Chapter 3 #2
She answers him without taking the earbud out, mouth barely moving, face flat in that way I’m starting to recognize. He laughs anyway, like her indifference is cute, like he’s used to getting scraps from her and calling it a meal.
My hand flexes at my side, and yeah, it’s ridiculous. I fucking know it is.
He’s just some lanky little art-school stray with eyeliner and bad posture. A friend, maybe. Someone from class. Someone who knows which coffee she orders and probably thinks that means he knows her.
It doesn’t.
He shifts closer when the barista sets Alice’s coffee on the counter, reaching past her for a napkin he doesn’t fucking need, shoulder almost brushing hers.
Alice takes the cup before he can make a thing out of it, tucking it beneath the edge of her umbrella while she looks at him, calm and unimpressed.
Whatever she says wipes half the smile off his face.
Good.
It still doesn’t stop the ugly thing crawling up my spine, because he’s close enough to smell her coffee. Close enough to see the rain caught on her lashes. Close enough to look at her like he’s already imagined being allowed nearer.
And I don’t fucking like that.
Not from him.
Not from anyone.
The guy tries one more time, leaning in with that easy little grin still fighting its way back onto his face. Alice doesn’t give him much. A few words. One lifted brow. Flat enough to make it clear he’s wasting both their time.
His smile finally dies.
He huffs a laugh, embarrassed enough to pretend he isn’t, then pushes wet purple hair out of his eyes and steps back with his skateboard under one arm.
Alice doesn’t watch him go. She just adjusts the strap of her camera bag and keeps moving like he was a puddle she chose not to step in.
I wait a few beats before moving too, letting the rain and the crowd swallow some of the distance between us. Close enough to keep her in sight. Far enough that I don’t look like some desperate asshole chasing after a girl because she said my name once and broke something loose in my head.
I wait a few seconds before moving too, letting the rain and the people between us make it look less obvious.
Close enough to keep her in sight.
Far enough that I don’t look like some desperate asshole chasing after a girl because she said my name once and apparently fucked up the wiring in my head.
Or because some purple-haired prick at the coffee cart stood too close to her and smiled like he had a right to.
Which is not jealousy.
Obviously.
Jealousy would be fucking insane. Possessive would be worse. I barely know her. She’s a girl with a camera, a smart mouth, and a talent for getting under my skin like she signed a lease there.
That’s it, that’s all.
Still, my jaw hasn’t unclenched since he leaned over her shoulder like he was allowed to breathe her air.
Fucking annoying.
She cuts through the old courtyard instead of taking the busier path beside the student center. Her boots splash through shallow puddles, but she steps around the deeper ones without slowing. She has one earbud in, but she isn’t checked out. Not even close.
Alice pays attention.
Windows. Doors. Reflections in the glass. The path ahead.
Careful.
Not scared.
There’s a difference, and yeah, unfortunately, I know it well.
She passes the chapel garden and slows near the covered walkway between two older buildings.
The roof keeps most of the rain off, but water still runs in thin streams down the stone edges.
The lamps along the wall are already on even though it’s barely afternoon, making the whole spot look darker than it needs to be.
Which is another fucking thought I do not need to be having.
She steps beneath the walkway.
Then turns around.
I stop about ten feet away, rain sliding off my hood and down my jaw.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
She just looks at me, and I look back, still thinking about that guy’s shoulder almost brushing hers. His fucking purple hair. His stupid goddamn grin, and how easy it would’ve been to step between them and make sure he understood exactly how little space he was allowed to take up near her.
Which would’ve been crazy.
And I’m not crazy.
I’m annoyed.
There’s a difference.
Alice pulls one earbud free, her eyes dragging over me like I’ve already pissed her off and she’s deciding whether I’m worth the energy.
“You lost, Cutter?”
My mouth curves before I can stop it. “No.”
“Interesting. Because you’re standing outside the visual arts building in the rain, and unless you suddenly developed taste, I’m guessing this isn’t about the architecture.”
“Who was he?”
That wipes some of the amusement off her face.
Good.
Her fingers shift around the coffee cup beneath the umbrella. “Who?”
“The guy with the purple hair.”
Alice’s brows lift. “What guy?”
I take a step closer, slow enough to let her decide whether she wants to move back.
She doesn’t.
“Tall. Lanky. Looked like he thinks eyeliner counts as a personality.” My gaze drags over her face, catching the little twitch at the corner of her mouth. “Looked at you like he was someone to you.”
Alice’s smile sharpens. “So you’re following me now?”
“No.”
“No?” She tilts her head, rain dripping from the edge of her umbrella. “You just happened to see me talking to Milo, then followed me under a covered walkway to ask about him?”
“Milo.” I say his name like it tastes bad.
Her mouth curves more. “Careful, Cutter. That almost sounded jealous.”
“It sounded annoyed.”
“It sounded like you don’t like him.”
“I don’t know him.”
“And yet, very strong feelings.”
My jaw ticks and she catches it.
I step under the covered walkway where the rain can’t reach us, close enough now that she has to tip her chin up to keep looking at me. “Is he?”
“Is he what?”
“Someone to you.”
Alice watches me for a second, eyes bright under all that black makeup. “You asking because you care, or because you’re about to start acting insane?”
My mouth curves. “Depends on your answer.”
Her breath catches.
“Wow,” she says softly. “That was almost honest.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I look down at her, still thinking about Milo’s stupid grin and how close he stood. “Answer the question, Alice.”
Her smile turns meaner. “Say please.”
A laugh slips out of me, low and short. “No.”
“Jealous men usually do.”
“I told you, I’m not jealous. Jealous is what people feel when someone touches something that doesn’t belong to them.” My gaze drops to her mouth, then lifts again. “That’s not what this is.”
Her eyes narrow. “Then what is it?”
My smile goes slow.
“Territorial.”
The word lands quiet and mean between us.
Alice’s throat moves and my eyes track it.
Her voice comes out steady, but her body already gave her away. “That implies ownership.”
“It does.”
“You don’t own me.”
“Not yet.”
Her breath catches. If I wasn’t watching so closely, I would’ve missed it, but I am.
I’m watching everything.
“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a girl who barely knows you,” she says.
“No.” My voice drops. “Dangerous is letting me notice you liked hearing it.”
Her chin lifts a little higher, stubborn as fuck, but she still doesn’t step back.
She should. She knows she should. I can see the thought move across her face, quick and quiet, buried under all that attitude she wears like armor.
Still, she stays.
Rain ticks against the roof above us. Her coffee steams between her hands. The campus moves around us in blurred shapes and wet footsteps, but none of it gets close enough to matter.
“He’s a friend,” she says finally.
I smile before I can stop it.
Alice’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Jagger.”Fuck.
My name in her mouth is a problem. A real one. Especially when she says it like that, half warning, half challenge, like she already knows I’m about to say something that should make her leave.
I tilt my head, letting my eyes move over her slow enough that she knows I’m not trying to hide it. “Just wondering if he knows that.”
Her brows pull together. “Knows what?”
“That he’s a friend.”
“Milo?”
My jaw tightens.
“Don’t.”
Her mouth curves. “Don’t what?”
“Say his name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m supposed to enjoy hearing it.”
“You asked about him.”
“I asked who he was.” I step closer, voice dropping with me. “Doesn’t mean to keep hearing his name coming out of that pretty mouth.”
That shuts her up, for once.
Her lips stay parted like she had something ready and lost it halfway there.
Good.
My hand lifts before I can talk myself out of it, and Alice goes still as my thumb brushes across her bottom lip. Slow. Light. Just enough to feel the warmth of her mouth and make every bad idea in my head sit up and pay attention.
“Jagger,” she whispers, and it comes out wrong.
Too soft.
Too fucking warning.
Almost a fucking whimper.
My whole body goes still.
Fuck me.
That’s the sound.