Bad Boy Ink (Get Ink'd #5) - Ali Lyda Page 0,18

the tingles began to shift into something almost like embarrassment. I hated it.

That was the thing about Bryce, wasn't it? He made me feel things that I wasn't ready to feel. That I had no reason to feel. And I certainly didn't have time to feel.

He was too happy. He was annoying as fuck. He was determined, and at ease, and entirely too comfortable with himself.

He was a lot of things I wasn't.

I forced myself away from the window and continued my walk to the apartment. This time, though, I was no longer enjoying the stroll. Instead, I made my way at a determined clip, ready to be in the safety of my apartment.

Once I was inside, I immediately went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate with one of those things that most people only drink in the fall and winter, but I drank it year-round. When I'd grown up, I'd had a nanny who had made me fresh hot chocolate each and every morning. It didn't matter what else was for breakfast, or what had happened the day before. I always had that comforting cup to look forward to.

In fact, I was pretty sure that was one of the only things I thought of with fondness for my childhood.

I took my steaming mug of hot chocolate to the dining room table and flipped open my laptop. My skin was buzzing as I began my work. It began with social media profiles—you could mine terrible amounts of personal information from social media. Take, for example, James’s mother’s name. A quick search led me to her maiden name. He also had several pets in his photos. There were two security questions answered right there. Fucking child’s play.

When I felt like this, like my skin was stretched tight, struggling to keep all my emotions inside, I knew that I would need to find an outlet. Predatory men and controlling men were triggers for me, and I needed to excise them from my consciousness. Otherwise, it became too much, and I started to really hurt.

I wasn't interested in hurting.

“James... Let's see what your bank accounts look like...”

Before I could really dive into his finances, though, I received an instant message notification through the school's network. It was from Bryce.

When are you free to work on the project?

I felt myself frown as I stared at the message. I hated the constant reminder that the case wasn't mine to solve but instead ours to solve. I cracked my knuckles before typing: We don't need to meet up to discuss the case. We can just send notes through this system.

Bryce: I'm not interested in using the system. I’m only using it now because I haven’t been able to get through to you in person. But it's a team effort and we need to be a team.

I sighed heavily before responding. I really don't think being in the same room is going to make a difference.

There was a part of me that was embarrassed by how much I was pushing against this. I knew it was childish, and while I didn't like to admit it, I knew that if I had been paired with anyone else in class, I wouldn't be trying so hard to avoid spending time together. But Bryce managed to get under my skin every time we were near each other, the way no one had in a really long time. I didn't want anyone under my skin or in my mind or infecting my life. And that's what Bryce was doing: becoming an infection or a parasite. Latching on and making himself known until I couldn’t ignore him.

His response came quickly. Could you please get your head out of your ass? I get that you don't like me. I'm not stupid, I can pick up what you're putting down. But I'd like to get an A, and in order to do that, we need to work together.

Realistically I knew he was right, and if for no other reason than the grade that I really needed, my resolve caved like a mine after dynamite. I'm free tomorrow afternoon.

Bryce: Good. Why don't you meet me at the shop, and we can work together over an early dinner?

Now he wanted dinner, too? This was moving closer and closer into uncharted territory. Like a date or some bullshit. Well, if he thought dinner would win my affection, I had a long list of jilted sugar daddies who would be happy