Chapter 4 – Reese
I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS
REESE
Istared up at Dakota, my heart hammering in my chest as he watched me with a piercing intensity that made me feel like there were bugs crawling under my skin.
He held my gaze without blinking, and now that we weren’t beneath a cloudy sky, his eyes were cold and dark. They slid slowly down my body as he tilted his head, then flashed quickly back up to mine.
“How’s your leg?”
His voice was low and rough, like his vocal cords had been damaged somehow. Or was it just naturally like that?
Then I remembered he’d smelled like cigarettes. Just how much did he smoke to make his voice sound like that, though?
I took a step back. “What are you doing in here? How did you get in here? Get out of my room!”
Dakota’s lips curved upward at one corner, and he tilted his head a bit. “Well, it’s not just your room, is it?”
When he took a small step toward me, I realized just how tall he truly was.
It had been easy to dismiss his size out in the open, but here in these cramped quarters, he towered over me.
His head almost hit the top of the doorway and his broad shoulders actually brushed either side.
He wasn’t heavily muscled at all, but rather lean.
That didn’t detract from his intimidating demeanor, especially with eyes that were so unnervingly sharp.
It was like being watched by the cold eyes of a viper.
“It is my room and you—you’re trespassing!” Did he have some kind of universal keycard because he was the dean’s son? “Can you just—please just leave. Please.”
Dakota took another step toward me, forcing me to tilt my head to keep holding eye contact.
“Oh, now you can ask nicely? Well guess what? It’s my room, too,” he said, and this time, both corners of his lips curved up in a close-mouthed smile, lifting his cheeks and distorting the scar.
I was certain if he showed his teeth they’d be sharp and dripping with saliva.
Or venom, more like. “So you’re not even gonna thank me for saving your life? ”
Saving my life?
Then his earlier words hit me hard.
It’s my room, too.
“What?” I breathed, feeling every ounce of the fight going out of me. But it was quickly replaced with the most horrific apprehension that squeezed my chest and made me feel like I’d throw up. “No. No, I’m—I mean, you’re the dean’s son, you—”
“So? That doesn’t mean I get special treatment.” He raised a brow, turned around, and headed back out into the room. “That doesn’t mean anything at all, really.”
“But—”
Dakota waved a hand over his shoulder. “We’re sharing a room, Reese. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
I immediately followed him out into the main room, watching as he fell heavily onto his bed and tucked an arm behind his head. He picked up a book that was lying facedown on the covers and started reading.
How did he know my name…?
I wanted to scream in frustration. Or agony. Maybe both. Because the idea of sharing a room with this guy—this enigmatic, apathetic, self-centered asshole—was nearly incapacitating.
A veritable nightmare.
“You just gonna stand there and stare at me all day?” he asked without looking at me.
This from the guy who was staring at me in the administrative office. The guy who blew me a fucking kiss.
I ripped my eyes from him and moved to my side of the room, sat down on my bed near the headboard, and crossed my legs. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back until it hit the hard wood, wondering just how in the fuck I’d landed him as a roommate.
This couldn’t be a coincidence. But even if it was, it didn’t matter because there was nothing I could do about it.
He could maybe request a new room since his dad was the dean, but me?
I had zero power here. I had to just suck it up and go with the flow.
If I upset Dakota, who was to say he wouldn’t complain about me to his dad and get me kicked out?
I was just a lowly scholarship student, it’s not like they’d be losing any money with me gone. Nobody but me would give a shit.
“What are you thinking about?”
I cracked my eyes open to find Dakota sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at me.
His long legs were spread wide, elbows resting on his thighs and hands hanging in the space between them.
They were nice hands; wide palms with long, slender fingers that looked like they’d flow nimbly over a keyboard or look pretty plucking strings.
Was he here for music? It was an arts academy, so he was here for some kind of creative endeavor. But he didn’t seem like a musician at all. No, he seemed more apt to smash an instrument than to play one.
Dakota waved those beautiful fingers at me, pulling me from my thoughts. “Hey. What were you thinking about? You’ve got the same look on your face that you did earlier, like you were ready to just give up.”
Good god he was so offensively blunt. His hoarse, throaty voice kept raising goosebumps all along my arms and dragged an uncomfortable warmth across the back of my neck. The fact that he was so close to the mark was unnerving, too.
I cleared my throat and said, “Nothing. Can we just not talk right now? Sorry, but I’m really tired.”
“Sure,” he replied, sounding completely unbothered. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Then he reached up and back and pulled his shirt off over his head.
My face started burning and I tore my eyes off his naked torso, reaching for my backpack.
What the fuck? Did he really need to take his shirt off right now? It wasn’t even hot in here.
I tried focusing my attention on my schoolwork; I’d already memorized my schedule, but it wouldn’t hurt to look it over again and then get a head start on my early morning class.
For a while, there was nothing but the faint sound of the chatter of excited students out in the courtyard below. I flipped through my philosophy textbook, carefully turning glossy pages and scanning various chapters.
I shifted slightly, then peeked at Dakota over the pages of my book.
He was half-lying, half propped on his pillows, one arm behind his head, one leg drawn up.
The muscles of his abdomen were bunched because of his position, and he’d set his book on his stomach, but I could still see a line of black hair that started at his navel and ran down under the waistband of his sweatpants.
I slid my gaze higher, to his chest. To the small pink nipple on his right pec.
My face heated as I stared at it, so I let my gaze drift higher to his profile, over his clean-shaven jaw, long nose, lips that were slightly pursed as he read.
His lashes were thick and black, his eyes barely visible as he looked down at the book.
He was so still right now, but there was some kind of energy humming around him that made me think of the stillness of a predator instead of any kind of languid laziness.
Those dark eyes suddenly flashed to mine, and my heart jolted.
“You can read it after me, I’m almost done,” he said with a knowing smile.
“No, I’m—no, thanks,” I said, looking back down at my textbook. I was annoyed I’d been caught staring at him and equally annoyed with his little smile.
I saw him get up out of the corner of my eye but kept my attention on my book.
“Is that a violin?”
I lowered my book as Dakota walked toward the foot of my bed. Did he not have any work to do?
“Yes,” I said, raising my book and ignoring him once more.
“Cool. What kind?”
As if he knew the different types of violins? Actually, maybe he did. Was that his instrument?
“It’s an Eastman.”
“Ah. Not bad. What type of wood?”
“Spruce and maple.”
“Nice.”
I finally looked at him over the top of my book, and the humor in his eyes made my stomach twist into knots.
I said nothing and went back to reading, hoping he’d do the same.
But of course he didn’t.
“So you’re a violinist. That’s cool. I heard you transferred here. Where’d you come from?”
He was leaning casually against the door now, still shirtless. His hands were shoved in his pockets so deep that it pulled at the waistband of his sweatpants, revealing a small sliver of his underwear.
I’d asked him if we could just not talk, he’d agreed, and now he was acting like that conversation had never happened.
I wondered what not talking meant to him, because it’d obviously taken on a different meaning than it did for the rest of the world.
I didn’t want to talk to a shirtless, privileged jerk that had probably never heard the word no in his life. He was about to hear it a hell of a lot.
Didn’t he have friends he could bug instead of me?
“Tagerton,” I said, ripping my eyes from all that annoying skin and trying to focus on my book.
“Is that the college in King’s Park?”
“Yes.”
“That’s really close. Did you not like it or something?”
I bit down on my bottom lip, then took a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. “No, I didn’t like it.”
“Mm. What year are you? I’m a junior.”
“Senior.” I was hoping my one-word answer would give him a hint.
Thankfully, his interrogation stopped and he pushed off the door and made his way back to his bed. I glanced up as he pulled his shirt on, then lowered my eyes when he turned around to face me.
“You wanna grab some food with me?”
I looked up at Dakota, then at the neatly made bed behind him, the books he had perfectly lined up on his desk, at the neatness of his side of the room compared to my side.
I hadn’t put anything away yet, and one of my bags was unzipped, clothes popping out of the opening like something had exploded inside.
I had three textbooks scattered on my bed, and my covers were already messed up.
I felt self-conscious as I compared our sides, then brushed it away, irritated with myself.
Except I couldn’t brush away this gnawing discomfort that pricked along my skin beneath the irritation, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of Dakota or something else entirely.
“No, I’m good,” I said. Then quickly—begrudgingly—added, “Thank you, though.”