Chapter 7
Guinevere
W hen I arrived at class on Wednesday, I half expected Ryker to skip out again, but much to my dismay, he showed up. Torn jeans, a black t-shirt, and his black curls sitting messily on top of his head. I don’t notice I’m staring until we make eye contact and Ryker smirks. I hate that smirk. I hate him.
Class seems to go by in the blink of an eye which is nice because the room feels a lot smaller and stuffier than usual.
Professor Whitely assigned a partner project and gave us until next class on Friday to choose. Obviously, Damian and I will be partners, there’s no one else we know in this course.
As I pack my things into my bag, I can feel the heat of a stare on my back, and it causes a shiver to run down my spine, but I refuse to look behind me. I already know who it is.
“Gwen, Ryker, could you stay behind for a moment, please?” Damian nudges my arm. His eyes are wide as he shoots me a quizzical look.
I shrug, indicating that I have no idea what this is about. He mouths “good luck” and walks out of the lecture hall, leaving Ryker and I alone with Professor Whitely like the traitor he is.
I grasp the strap of my bag over my shoulder as I walk down to the Professor's desk. Ryker makes his way down slowly.
When he steps up beside me, I breathe in a whiff of his cologne, which smells like vanilla and sandalwood, creating a musky scent that reminds me of walking through a forest.
Professor Whitely leans back against her desk, her hands flat on the surface behind her. She clears her throat, her eyes moving from me to Ryker who looks extremely uncomfortable and slightly annoyed.
“So, I’ll cut to the chase. I want you two to partner up for this project, and any future projects I assign.”
My eyes go wide, and I can automatically feel my face getting red. What. The. Hell. This is the last thing I expected her to say. Why would she even suggest such a thing? I thought she liked me.
Professor Whitely crosses her arms over her chest, slightly pushing her breasts up and exposing more of her cleavage. My eyes dart to her chest, and quickly back to her face. I’m no better than a man. Jesus.
I look over to Ryker who hasn’t said a word or moved a muscle. I don’t even know if he’s breathing.
“Professor, I don’t think-” she holds up her hand, cutting me off.
“I understand you both may have reservations about this arrangement, but I believe this could be beneficial for you. You both have such different views, and I think that will be useful for this project.”
“But-” This time it’s not Professor Whitely who cuts me off. It’s Ryker.
“I think you’re right, Professor. This could be really beneficial for us both. Thank you. We’ll get right to work.”
What? No. No, this is not a good idea. It will not be beneficial. It will be catastrophic, like a category five hurricane.
“Ry-”
“Right, Rebel?” Rebel? What is happening right now?
“Perfect. I’m so glad you both feel that way. I can’t wait to see what you come up with. See you on Friday. ”
With that, Professor Whitely gathers her things and walks between us and out of the lecture hall.
When she’s gone and Ryker and I are completely alone, I turn to him slowly. He’s already looking down at me with those mesmerizing green eyes, the muscles in his arms threatening to rip through the shirt he’s wearing as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“What the hell was that? Why would you agree?”
He takes a step toward me, until he’s so close I can smell the minty scent of his gum in his mouth.
My breath hitches and my body forgets how to move. He’s intimidating when he’s right in front of you. My grip on my bag's strap tightens, as if it can save me from the man two inches away from my face.
“Give me your phone,” he demands. Again with the demands. I wonder if he’s this demanding in the bedroom, the horny part of my brain overtaking the logical part. Wait, what? No. I’d never sleep with an Elite, especially not ones with green eyes and an ego the size of a whole planet.
Before I can tell him no, he grabs the wrist of the hand holding my phone and takes it from me.
I reach for it, but he holds it above his head which makes it impossible for me to reach, even if I jumped. I shove his chest, which does little to affect him at all. “Give me my phone!”
Ryker laughs at my futile attempts to get my phone back. He types something in, but when he’s done, he doesn’t immediately give it back. I pull on his arm, attempting to get my phone away from him.
“Ryker, give me-” Before I can finish my sentence, Ryker grabs my wrist and tugs me toward him causing me to crash into his hard chest. He holds my arm against him, gripping me hard enough to where I can’t pull away, but it doesn’t hurt.
His eyes bore into mine and his breathing shifts. My body reacts in a feral way, and I begin to attempt to pull back. His grip tightens on my wrist.
I’m so close to him, I can feel the heat of his body through our clothes. I can smell his aftershave, his shampoo. I can see the small black ring around the green of his eyes and the small freckle on his cheek.
“Calm down,” he says in a low, gravelly voice. He looks over my face once more before releasing his hold on me and taking a step back, handing me my phone.
“I put my number in and texted myself so now I have yours. We’ll make arrangements to get together to work on the project.” I am so utterly confused right now. “See you soon, Rebel.”
Ryker heads up the stairs and out of the lecture hall, leaving me standing here, completely stunned.
What the fuck just happened?