Chapter 3
ETHAN
D ante Romano is sitting across from me in the library.
Not across the room, and not even across from me at a long table, but within arm’s distance at a small two-person table. His dark hair is even more inky in the dim lighting of the library, and his piercing blue eyes seem to brighten as he stares at me from just a couple feet away.
I can’t help but look at him as he unzips his backpack. His fingers are long, thick…even his knuckles are tattooed.
Why am I thinking about his hands?
I try to pull myself out of it by remembering that I’m supposed to be working on research for an essay. But I spot something dangling from his bag.
“The tag’s still on your bag,” I tell him.
Dante looks up, then back down. “Huh?” I watch as he adjusts his bag until he finally sees the thin plastic loop with a paper tag attached to it.
“Oh. Must’ve forgotten,” he mumbles, then rips it off. The tag comes off, but not the plastic loop. He tosses the tag back in his bag before finally setting his things on the table.
Forgetting to take the tag off and ripping it off instead of cutting it—two things I would never do, much like the knuckle tattoos and shaggy, unkempt hair.
But considering his designer jeans, leather jacket, button-down shirt, and expensive boots, I’m pretty sure what he does to his hair is on purpose.
“Right. Well, there’s a plug free like I mentioned.” I wave again toward the plug on the floor, and then turn my attention to my laptop.
I’ve struggled not to think about our interaction over the last few days, even while hanging out with Lena, watching a movie and cuddling.
Now that Dante is sitting right in front of me, focusing is nearly impossible. I don’t understand why. He’s not threatening me. He’s not bothering me. He’s just sitting across from me like anyone else would.
He’s not like anyone else, though. He’s dangerous, according to his reputation as being part of a crime family. He’s big. Strong. And an airhead, if you believe the rumors. I’m not sure I do.
“You’re a business major, right?” I ask, feeling like my voice is louder than it should be in the quiet library.
“Bis Ad,” he replies casually.
I blink, silent for a moment. “Oh, business administration.” I’m not sure why I’m bothering to talk to him; we should both be focusing.
But neither of us does. He’s looking at me…and I’m looking at him, and there’s something in his eyes that tells me maybe him being here wasn’t an accident.
“You’re biology?” he asks in return, and leans closer to me across the table. He tilts his head to the side, causing several strands of his hair to fall over his forehead and along his temple.
Saliva pools in my mouth. My stomach is hot.
I’ve never felt like this before.
“Huh? Oh. Yes. Biochemistry,” I reply. I don’t expect him to be interested in hearing about that, as most people aren’t, so I don’t elaborate. Besides, we don’t even know each other.
“Was that your first choice?” he asks.
I look at him, studying his face for a moment. I know why he’s here, even if I don’t want to admit it. It can’t be a coincidence.
“No, actually. Marine biology was,” I admit. “But it’s not as lucrative, and the marine biology course here is one of the lower-ranked options.”
“Marine biology…so sharks and whales?” he asks.
I can’t help but laugh a little. “That’s simplifying it, I suppose. It’s all marine life—their structure, how they procreate, how they function, why they function. How they’ve evolved.” Just talking about it makes my chest tingle all the way to my forehead.
“That sounds more interesting than biochemistry,” Dante replies.
His lips are pulled up into a smirk, his gaze still focused entirely on mine.
The way he leans in closer and places his hand near my notebook makes me feel so…
special. Like his full attention is on me, and he cares about what I’m saying.
It’s easy to want to fall into.
“Do you even know what biochemistry consists of?” I ask.
“Not really. Why don’t you tell me, hm?” His voice is low, smooth…and it sends a shiver up my spine.
My throat feels a little tight, but I can’t look away from him, and I can’t resist speaking. The words just fall out of my mouth.
“It’s in some ways more vague than marine biology, as it’s the study of all living matter, but it’s more specific in that it’s about getting down to the microscopic level.
Not just studying how, why, or what, but seeing how the very molecules of a piece of matter from a living being look, how DNA is connected, how disease and vaccines affect it.
While I might do some work with matter from marine animals, I’ll most likely be working with human cells and researching treatments for diseases,” I explain as simply as possible.
Still, the look on Dante’s face tells me he doesn’t completely get it. But his fingers inch closer to mine on my notebook, and his tongue darts along his lips.
“You’re very passionate,” he tells me. His voice is like a shot of top-shelf bourbon. “It’s cute.”
My balls tighten as blood rushes down and my stomach clenches.
Dante reaches farther, until his fingertips brush along my knuckles and I drop my pencil. My breath catches in my throat.
“Why are you here, asking me these questions?” I ask. His eyelashes are dark and brush his cheeks when he blinks, and fuck me…all I can focus on is the feeling of his warm fingers on the back of my hand. His hands are a bit rougher than mine…and larger than mine.
My eyes dart from his to the table. “Do you even have a laptop to plug in?”
He smirks at me. “I think you know why I’m here, Ethan,” he whispers.
His hand feels like it could swallow mine whole. I feel so small compared to him, and something about that makes my head spin.
“I don’t,” I insist. “What do you want from me?” I manage to pull my hand away from his.
“Oh, look at you with that look on your face. Blushin’ redder than a cherry.” Dante grins at me, his fingers grabbing mine again, harder this time. “What do you want, Ethan? That’s what I’m curious about.”
“Nothing,” I choke out. “I want to focus on my work.” I lean back, trying to get as far from him as possible while still sitting down.
“Oh, come on. I know that look,” he chuckles darkly. “You might be an uptight straight-A student, but even the best students need to get railed every now and then. Actually, probably a lot more frequently than that.”
My face grows even hotter, and my cock is half-hard in my jeans. I try to ignore it and tell myself it’s nothing. It’s a fear response. That’s it. It’s a perfectly natural response to a guy I don’t like, not even a little—because I don’t like men—flirting with me.
“If that were true, you would be a much better student,” I snap at him. The frustration boils over inside of me. I close my laptop and start to shove everything back into my messenger bag.
“Oh, where are you going?” Dante says, standing up just as I do. “I thought we were having a good little date.”
“Fuck off,” I tell him. “I have a girlfriend, and even if I didn’t, I’m not interested. You can take your bad-boy flirting act somewhere else, man.”
Just getting those words out feels like it takes a thousand breaths. I’m never this worked-up or anxious. Sure, I have some social anxiety, but usually even the most annoying jocks are easy enough to handle…except, they’re not ever flirting with me.
“You’ll think of me later,” Dante assures me.
He doesn’t follow me as I head out of the library, just like he didn’t follow me out of the coffee shop the other day.
But this time, I can’t handle the tension coursing through my body.
I need to talk to someone about this.
I meet Nathan at his dorm thirty minutes later. Thankfully my body seems to have calmed down by this point. I’m not sure what I’m going to tell him, because frankly I’m not entirely sure what happened…or why.
Usually, Nathan would meet me at my apartment, but I have to go hang out with Lena soon, and her dorm is closer to Nathan’s than my place.
“What’s up? I thought you were having a study date with Lena tonight?” he asks as soon as he opens his door.
“I am…but I went to the library first to get some work done before going over there, and—” Nathan cuts me off before I can finish.
“Before you go over? You think she’s gonna wanna focus on something else?” he asks with a smirk.
I sigh. “No…I mean, maybe. She needs more help with her homework than I do, so I’m often not able to focus on my own work as much as hers,” I explain as I step in and he closes the door behind me. I shake my head. “That’s not why I’m here, though.”
“Then why are you here?” he asks. “You want some coffee?” He steps over to the small coffee pot sitting on the shared dresser in the room. His roommate isn’t home, and for that I’m grateful.
“No, I’ll be up all night.” I wave his offer away.
“Exactly. Isn’t that your go-to?” Nathan chuckles as he pours himself some coffee.
I sit down on the edge of his bed and he sits down on the beanbag chair that’s low to the floor nearby.
“I need sleep this week. I have my early morning class and two exams. I can’t run on fumes right now,” I insist. With another sigh I brush several locks of my hair back into place, finding the feeling of them almost touching my forehead irritating.
“Damn, dude. You know you could slow down a little and still be at the top of the class,” Nathan reminds me. He sips at his coffee, and my eyes move to it—to his lips, his fingers on the handle. Looking at him doesn’t do anything to me like looking at Dante does. Not even remotely.
“I don’t think so,” I say quietly, distracted.
It’s silent for a moment before he speaks up again. “Alright, so tell me why you’re here instead of heading to Lena’s?”
I force myself to focus. “This weekend I ran into Dante Romano. Literally ran into him. I spilled coffee all over his expensive leather jacket,” I tell him. “He cursed me out and seemed like he was about to waylay me, but then…he insisted on replacing my coffee.”