of your Beamer? You lack the upper body strength.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here? Oh, wait!” I gave her a wicked smirk. If I couldn’t fuck her, I’d taunt her. “I already know. Come here a lot? How many degenerates have you fucked?”
Her nostrils flared. I was getting to her, but she managed to keep her voice even. “Hendrix, I don’t have time for this bullshit. What are you doing here?”
“None of your business.” I dropped any levity from my tone. If she wanted to get serious, I was ready to get serious. “I’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t own me. I don’t have to tell you jack shit.”
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t actually care. You don’t have to tell me anything, just . . . don’t tell anyone else either.”
There it was—she’d hung around to make sure I wouldn’t tarnish her perfect reputation.
She dropped her gaze, showing the first sign of vulnerability since she’d wriggled out of my arms, and pushed her sopping wet hair back with both hands. Taking a deep breath, she fixed me with an indecipherable look. “Listen, you have your reasons for coming here, whatever they are, and I have mine. All I’m saying is, let’s just pretend we never saw each other here and be done with it. OK?”
I cocked my head to the side. “Yeah, but I don’t actually give a shit if anyone finds out I was here.”
Her shoulders drooped in defeat, but she kept her gaze on mine. Brave little princess. “Please understand the gravity of what I’m about to say—because I think I’ve only said this to about six people my entire life. Hendrix, please, don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
I nearly cracked—nearly told her I’d do whatever she wanted before pulling her into a hug. But I was certain the affection wouldn’t be welcomed, so I just squeezed my hands into fists and sighed. “I’ve got no one to tell. You made sure of that, remember? No one would believe me anyway.”
She laughed, the sound low and devoid of humor. “You don’t understand what it’s like. Reputation is everything in my world. Even the breath of a rumor . . .”
“I understand better than you know.” Spoiled rich brats in California couldn’t be that different from spoiled rich brats in New York.
She eyed me up and down, the question clear in her gaze. Who are you? What’s your story?
But I wasn’t in a sharing mood.
She licked her lips. “So, what do you want then? What’s it gonna cost me?”
“I don’t need your money. My daddy has a platinum card too.” She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen my car; I went to the same exorbitantly expensive, pretentious school. But for some reason, I wanted to point out that we had some things in common, that I understood her better than she thought.
Now it was her remaining silent, watching me with a raised brow, waiting for me to fill in the blank.
There was only one thing I wanted from her—well, two, but there was about as much chance of me getting her to lift that skirt as getting Americans to use the metric system, so I went with the practical option.
“You already know what I want.” I shrugged. “Call off your attack dogs. I don’t need any friends here, but I’m not interested in making any enemies. And trust me, if I start swinging back, it’s going to get ugly. So do us all a favor and get this shit under control.”
“Done.” Her answer was instant. Part of me bristled, wondering if I should’ve asked for more, but that was the old me talking. More would only get me into trouble. I got what I wanted. Nothing else mattered.
With a nod, I turned and walked away, forcing myself not to look back.
Monday started in much the same way it always did. I got to school, parked, walked to class. As usual, some students made a point of turning their backs to ignore me, while others openly sneered in my direction. But I made it to my first class without anyone trying to prove he was a big man by shoving me. No one smacked my books off my desk in my classes; a few people even got out of my way as I headed to lunch.
I’d been planning to go off campus for lunch but decided against it, turning right toward the cafeteria instead of left toward the doors at the end of the hall. I hadn’t seen