“You made it,” she says brightly, reaching up to adjust her long, dirty-blonde ponytail. “We need to organize the hand-outs before the students are here. How was your weekend, Sevan?”
Filthy.
Fucked up.
Just how I like it.
“Satisfying,” I tell her.
It’s only a few minutes before the first students start to file into the classroom. Dr. Sellwood and I have the handouts about the French Revolution ready to pass out, and I walk around the classroom, placing a handout on each desk before heading back to the front.
I see a fuzzy hoodie from my peripheral vision before I hear his voice.
That voice.
Acid pools in my stomach, and suddenly I’m wishing the paper in my hand was a brick, instead.
Weston just walked into the classroom, side-by-side with his Onyx Society buddy Noah. Next to one another, they look like day and night: Wes with his golden hair and hoodie, and Noah looking like a young blue-eyed Keanu Reeves, with black hair and a sleepy vibe.
They walk around like they know they’re hot, rich as sin, and untouchable.
Well, Noah, at least.
Wes is bashful and desperate under that stony, serious exterior, it turns out.
“Daggers guys are going to flip,” I overhear Wes saying to Noah.
My ears perk up.
He’s saying something about Double Daggers, but I can’t figure out what.
Weston walks into the classroom without looking toward me and the professor at the front. He takes one of the seats near the middle next to Noah, and the two of them chat under their breath about society shit.
Wes looks nothing like he did Saturday night.
His hair is fresh and pushed back like normal instead of falling over at one side of his head.
I can still remember what his cheeks looked like, flushed and hot for me. What his cock looked like, fucking dripping with precum after I touched him.
You wanted it so bad, Knox.
Dr. Sellwood finally closes the door and begins class, stepping toward the desk at the center and getting everyone to shut up.
Weston finally looks up and meets my eyes, and he freezes.
Just like he froze the other night. It’s that same deer-in-headlights look, right when he sees me.
My cock responds, hardening under my pants.
“Welcome in,” Dr. Sellwood’s saying now, saying she was happy with everyone’s midterm exam scores. “And since we’re in the second quarter of the semester now, we’re welcoming our new TA. Sevan is here to assist me in class and run discussions when we break off into groups. The French Revolution is a little messy, and the coursework will be challenging.”
Wes is looking at me like he’s got me in crosshairs, and for some reason it’s going straight to my dick.
He watches me like he wants to start a war.
Does he really think he can play with me like that? A big, muscular fucking thorn in my side, sitting there in a fuzzy Crimson College sweater?
You have no idea what you are doing, Weston.