Chapter 53 Tytus
Chapter fifty-three
Tytus
Iwaited until the locker room was empty before I finally peeled myself off the floor, showered, and booked it to class.
I’m two minutes late, which pisses me the fuck off. I should have been here early. I should have been here waiting to intercept her when she arrived.
As I stalk in, every eye on me, the room falls silent.
I scan the front row and stumble over my own feet when I discover Professor Eden sitting in the seat Sawyer usually occupies. The seat beside mine. The only seat, I realize, still vacant.
Panic flares to life in my chest as I scan the room, searching for her. When I find her, I swear my heart stops.
She’s dressed in a short plaid skirt, patterned tights, and one of those goddamn sweaters that’s fighting for its life to stay closed over her tits.
Fuckin’ A.
I look away quickly. I don’t need to draw any more attention to myself, and a bulge in my pants would definitely do that.
“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Tremblay,” Eden says. “Please find your seat.”
There’s not an ounce of contention in his tone. If anything, he sounds chipper.
That’s the moment I know.
She let him touch her. Fuck her. She willingly submitted to him in a way she never has for me.
I stalk toward the empty desk, my sights set on the goddamn bane of my existence.
When I reach him, he rises.
I freeze, my body on alert, certain he’s going to hit me.
Instead, he regards me with a puzzled look, then holds out his hand to indicate I should sit.
Turning, he tells the class, “Ms. Davvies will lead us today and Wednesday in preparation for the big event. We’ll use this time to review the logistics and volunteer packets, as well as all the intricacies that will help make the night a success.”
“Thank you, Professor Eden.”
Her voice stirs up a flurry of emotion in my chest.
As Sawyer shares her laptop screen on the projector at the front of the class, I throw down my bag and take my seat.
Rather than move back to the front of the room or head to the podium to join my girl, Eden slinks into the empty desk beside me, focuses on the white screen ahead, and murmurs, “This is your one and only warning. Leave her alone.”
His directness unlocks a twisted form of amusement in me.
He knows I’m a threat. He thinks I’ll acquiesce to his demand.
I wasn’t sure how to handle being met with civility and cordiality. But Eden slipped, he showed his cards. He’s cracking, desperation dripping from his every word.
Smirking, I pull out my phone.
With a couple of taps on the screen, I determine he has AirDrop enabled and that I’m in range.
A thrill rushes through me.
I send the video.
I set my phone on my desk, face down.
In my periphery, he subtly checks his device.
He bends low over it, and then his body goes rigid.
Quietly, I turn to him. “What do you think, Professor? Should I AirDrop this to her computer while she’s presenting?”
Eden glares at me, nostrils flaring.
“I wonder who else might be keen on seeing this. Do you think we’re in range of the dean?” I muse.
He shakes his head and through gritted teeth says, “I’m warning you, Tremblay—”
“Did she tell you this version has sound?” I ask, cutting off his threat. “Did you know she says your name seven fucking times in the course of four and a half minutes?”
The man lets out a too-loud guffaw. Then, with a look around to make sure the students near us aren’t listening in, he whispers, “Do you really think you can blackmail her into wanting to be with you? She’s my girlfriend.”
“She’s my wife,” I snap back.
Sawyer clears her throat at the front of the room, catching our attention.
Professor Eden turns and offers a placating smile. I watch, willing her to look my way, but her sole focus is on him. When she looks away, it’s to resume her presentation. Like I don’t even fucking exist.
Shifting my way again, Eden resumes his diatribe. “She’s not your wife. She told me everything. You’re delusional. You need help. This is the final warning. Leave. Her. Alone.”
Snickering, I lean back in my seat and stretch my arms out wide. “Sorry, Prof. That’s not an option. That woman up there?”
I raise my brows, giving him a moment to sweat it out.
“She’s mine,” I say when he squirms almost imperceptibly. “She’s a part of me. And no matter what she tells you, no matter what she tries to convince herself of, I’ll always be a part of her, too.”