“Come with me.” Miss Hughes grabs my arm and drags me back into Mr. Decatur’s room. I cringe, a deep burn shifting into place on my cheeks. “Go take a seat, Miss Weston.”
Is she kidding? And yet, I listen to her. Hidden under the bubblegum pink cardigan, something about Miss Hughes screams business. There’s no way she gets pushed around in this life. A pit bull in stilettos, she can hold her ground with the best of them.
Miss Hughes leans over Mr. Decatur’s desk. Nothing but a low whisper can be heard, making it impossible to hear any of the words they’re exchanging.
“Got Miss Hughes to fight your battles for you, huh, Palmer?” Marek pulls his bottom lip with his teeth, luring me in like a damn fish on a hook. “You can pretend like you didn’t like my hands on you, but we both know that’s a lie. You’re curious.”
“Do you get off on tormenting people?” I sit down and face the front of the classroom.
Miss Hughes is already gone. Byron’s dark brown eyes burn into my skin, heating every exposed inch. With an angry glare, he grabs a stack of paper and begins handing them out.
“I only enjoy tormenting you.” Marek clenches his jaw, drawing my attention to the sharp edges of his stupid, perfect face.
“Because we all know you secretly love it,” Byron chimes in like he and Marek share a brain. He continues to the front of the class, standing with poise and a presence that is undeniable. He belongs here, and this is his playground.
“Better watch your back or else you just may become the teacher’s pet,” Marek whispers.
The remainder of class, Byron yammers on about this semester’s syllabus. Every so often, he checks my seat. There’s a fire inside him, and I have no choice to look away, breaking the spell he has me under. He knows he’s won, and I hate that.
“Miss Weston, please hang back for a second,” Byron calls out as the class comes to an end.
“What did I say?” Marek wiggles his eyebrows and slips on his aviator sunglasses. “Teacher’s pet.” His words come out like a gleeful song.
I lean back in my desk, acting natural when I’m anything but. A teacher shouldn’t look at a student like he is me right now. Byron waits for all the students to pass and only then does he push off his desk. He saunters over and sits on the edge of mine, crossing his leg over his knee. I start to stand, fight or flight taking over my body, only to be shoved back into my chair.
“I’m a student.” I gulp back the growing lump in my throat. “You can’t—”
Byron holds his hand up. “The exact opposite, Palmer. It’s because I’m a teacher, I can do whatever I want.” He rises, a pleased and domineering sway to his walk. He turns halfway to the chalkboard. “It would be better for you to remember that. Don’t ever undermine me in front of other staff members.”
What the hell is this guy trying to get at? I didn’t undermine him. Miss Hughes stepped in, not at my request. I would have been perfectly happy spending this past hour in the dean’s office.
“Afraid they’ll see you for what you really are?” I stand, holding my books close to my chest.
“And what is it you think I am?” He spins, his head tilting from side to side.
I’m not his student right now. I’m his prey, and he’s famished.
“You know what you are, Mr. Decatur, and don’t think for a single second, I’m not privy to information you try so damn hard to keep tucked away.” I bare my teeth, but the strength is a hoax. In front of someone like Byron, survival is my only option. He’ll chew the strongest up and spew them at the feet of their loved ones if it means he’s victorious.
I’ve heard the stories, folklore, passed between classes. He’s unapologetically cruel with zero regard for anyone else except himself.
“Reed had quite the imagination, Palmer. It’s best to not listen to the words of a dead girl.” He turns his back. His blunt dismissal doesn’t make him seem strong. The opposite is actually true.
“Hit a nerve, huh?” I whisper over his shoulder as I pass to the door.
A cool hand wraps tightly around my wrist. I’m spun around and slammed into the white brick wall next to the door.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The vein in his neck throbs. If I