Jordy #2
“Okay, but… Why are you here?” I asked again, both confused and completely creeped out that he would even come up with a plan to get me alone after everything that had happened. “You don’t even like me, you said so yourself yesterday. So what’s the point of ambushing me like this?”
“You’re right. I don’t like you. I thought I did,” he tacked on, somewhat thoughtfully. “I thought you were different.”
“I told you I’m not,” I reminded him, struggling to keep any of the nerves or revulsion I felt for him out of my voice.
Provoking him with my disgust probably wouldn’t be the move at that particularly precarious moment.
“I’m just a normal person. I’m not especially sweet or helpful or whatever you thought. ”
“You don’t have to tell me,” he assured me. “But none of that has anything to do with why I wanted to meet you here.”
A meeting implied that both parties were aware that they’d be in each other’s presence, but I bit down on that particular thought.
“Then why did you want to?”
“It’s not really about you,” he continued on. “Now it’s more about that overly aggressive man-child you’ve been clinging to like a pathetic little whore.”
“Leave him out of this,” I said automatically. “You don’t even know him.”
“Oh, I do know him,” he corrected me quickly. “I’ve known so many alphas like him. They’re all the same. And the omegas that spread their legs for those alphas are all the same, too.”
He was talking crazy again, like he’d started doing the day before at the truck. I didn’t know what to say to make him move out of my way so I could leave, but denying his claims didn’t seem to be working.
“So if I’m a whore that spreads my legs for an evil bully alpha, then why are you so desperate to talk to me? Why’d you wait here for me?”
“I didn’t wait here to talk to you. It’s not about you. I said that. You’re not listening.”
“You want to fight Kieran or something?” I asked, my brows furrowing together.
That wasn’t going to go very well for him.
Not that I was going to let Kieran get mixed up in this stupid bullshit, anyway.
He would be way too eager to beat the hell out of this creep, like he’d wanted to do since seeing him pin me against the couch at that stupid party.
“No,” he said. “Fighting is for animals. I want to hurt Kieran.”
“How do you plan on hurting him without fighting him?” I blurted out, annoyed and frustrated with the entire conversation, as well as the cold, fearful sensation squirming around inside me.
I was annoyed with myself. I should have complained to someone higher up about his behavior before it had escalated this far, but I hadn’t wanted to cause problems. And now I was stuck in a room alone with a guy who hated my guts for rejecting him.
He blinked, tilting his head and giving me an expression like he was appraising me and the prognosis wasn’t good. “For being so successful academically, you really aren’t that bright, are you?”
He watched me watching him, the silent seconds ticking by slowly and dreadfully until finally awareness dawned on me, and true fear, not the sly licks of anxiety and nerves I’d felt up to that point, raced up my body and gripped me by the throat.
He was going to hurt Kieran by hurting me.
My hand flew into my pocket, tugging out my phone and my fingers trembled as I punched in my lock screen code.
He let out a guttural, angry cry as he charged at me, and I pivoted to the side to dodge him, desperately trying to navigate to my keypad so I could call for help.
He charged at me again, this time knocking the phone out of my hand so it clattered to the floor, and shoving me into one of the glass walls.
The side of my skull smacked it, just hard enough to daze me for a second.
He had me pinned, his larger body keeping me from wiggling free.
But when his hands moved down to his belt, the scrape and clack of the buckle ringing out and echoing in my head like an alarm as he tugged it open, adrenaline ramped up to clear my brain.
I was small, but I wasn’t a frightened little mouse that would freeze at the sight of a predator diving toward it.
Wrenching my arm out from between his body and the wall, I reached over to the bookshelf next us. My fingers closed over the closest thing I could grab, a metal paperweight. It was heavy, the weight lending it some momentum as I slammed it down onto his face.
I winced, turning away as blood sprayed out from his busted nose, hoping none of it had landed on me. He backed up several steps, howling as his hands flew up to his face to grasp at the source of the pain.
“Fuck!” He spit the word out through his fingers, his voice bubbling with anger, his eyes looking even more unhinged than before, like a raging bull with just one target in mind. Me.
I didn’t hesitate to kick out with all the power I could muster, the sole of my shoe landing squarely on his crotch and sinking in for a moment before I pulled it back.
I had strong legs from running track. He folded in half like a napkin, sinking down a bit as he shifted his hands to clutch between his legs.
Open your belt buckle now, I thought, slightly hysterical with the idea that he’d even tried to do that.
With my thoughts racing frenetic circles in my brain, I tried to focus on the room in front of me.
Andrew was hurting, incapacitated for the moment, but his body was still blocking the direction of the door.
If I ran around the desk I could avoid passing by him, but that was the long way around, and if he realized what I was doing, he could definitely beat me there.
The phone he’d knocked out of my hand was only a foot or so to our left, so I dashed toward it.
Dropping the paperweight, I had to scramble to get down low enough to the floor to scoop it up.
My breath tore out in small panting gasps as I fumbled with it, somehow managing to bring up the keypad.
Before I could dial anything, Andrew reached out and closed his fingers over my wrist, squeezing so hard I yelped and my hand spasmed, releasing the death grip I had on my phone.
He snatched it away, slamming it onto an edge of Sandy’s desk, like a drunk guy in a bar would shatter the top off a beer bottle to create a makeshift knife.
My phone didn’t turn into a makeshift weapon, it only cracked through the middle with a sickening crunch of plastic, the light of my screen blinking a few times before going black.
“You’re not calling anybody,” he said, a nauseating mix of hate and excitement rumbling through the words.
His words came out stuffy and nasally, because of his busted nose.
Thick streams of blood oozed down from his nostrils, over his lips, to drip off his chin.
Despite everything, I was slightly worried I might have broken it.
The bridge looked crooked and swollen already.
When my eyes darted toward the door again, he picked up on it and shook his head, smirking a bit sadistically, before shoving me back against one of the walls again.
There was nothing in reach for me to grab to defend myself, and my body was already too restricted to be able to rear back for a good punch or kick.
Shrinking back against the glass, I squeezed my eyes closed and waited for what he would do to me.