Shame (Ruin #3)(39)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

The movement was familiar, oddly so. I narrowed my eyes, truly looking at him, examining Jack, because something about him didn’t make me feel safe; it made me feel… wary, afraid.

“What?” He smiled, his big toothy grin making me feel a bit better. “You think I’m speaking from experience?”

“Are you?” My throat went dry at the question.

“Maybe.” He nodded slowly. “Then again, how would you know?”

I reached into my satchel and gripped my mace tightly with one hand.

“And that…” he chuckled and took a sip of coffee. “…is my point. Geez, stop looking so serious. I just want an A, okay? And if lover boy wants us to dig, then we should dig, cool?”

I released the Mace, feeling a bit stupid. My spider senses had always been off when it came to people. I mean Taylor had been Exhibit A, so I really shouldn’t suspect a guy like Jack was anything but nice and studious.

“Right.” I took another sip of coffee, feeling better. “Let’s do it your way.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

We worked for the rest of the hour, and then I made an excuse about needing to stop at the mail room before class.

I still had an hour, but I wanted to check and see if I had any more threats. My hands were shaking by the time I turned my key and unlocked the little box.

Nothing but spam.

I released a tense breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and quickly shut my box.

“Boo!” Someone gripped my shoulders.

I screamed and reached for my Mace again.

“Whoa!” Jack reared back. “Was totally not planning on you getting ready to karate my ass!” Laughing, he shook his head. “I think my stories about pizza wars and coworkers getting beat up are going to give you nightmares. You just forgot your notebook, that’s all.” He held it out.

“You could have given it to me in class.” My heart was still hammering against my chest when I took the notebook from him and shoved it into my bag.

“Right.” He winked. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.”

I gave him an annoyed look.

“Or maybe I want to get impaled by one of your sharp nails.” He grimaced. “Alright, see ya later!”

He ran off.

And I was tempted to slump against the wall. He was right. I was being ridiculous and jumpy, and it wasn’t his fault I’d left my notebook.

With a huff I vowed to go decaf for the rest of the week and slowly made my way toward the social sciences building.

I made it to class with twenty minutes to spare. When I walked into the room, Tristan was already sitting at the desk reading some brown book. He still hadn’t looked up, so I slowly made my way toward him.

The book appeared to be a journal. It had angry red writing on the pages and a few things crossed out. There were pictures, but I wasn’t close enough to see what they were of.

“Didn’t take you for the type to read your own diary,” I joked.

Tristan swore, dropping the journal to the floor, then bent and picked it up and shoved it into his desk. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I would apologize, but I kind of like the fact that I caught you unaware and out of control.”

His sexy grin had me wanting to both retreat and maul him.

“Lisa, if you want to see me out of control, all you really need to do is crook your little finger. I’ll be at your mercy in seconds.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hell yes, it is.”

“I never back down from challenges.”

“I hoped you’d say that.”

“I could lock the door.”

“I’d really appreciate the door being locked.”

I grinned as he took a step toward me. The room was thick with tension. He held out his hand. I took it.

“Then again, if we leave the door open, there’s always that rush you get when you think about getting caught.”

“You want me to get fired over you?”

“Like they’d fire you.” My smile was so wide it hurt. “My guess is your company donates just as much money as Wes’s does.”

“Ah, and she puts puzzles together well. Damn. I love that smart mouth of yours. The mind’s not so bad either.” He tilted my chin toward him. “But, sadly… now we only have fifteen minutes.” He released me from his hold and stepped back. “And I would really hate to rush anything that has to do with my mouth on your body.”

I gasped.

“You’re not shocked.” His eyes narrowed. “But I can damn-well tell you’re a bit excited, which, in turn, gets me way too excited if I’m supposed to be talking about sociopaths today.”

I giggled.

He reached into his desk and pulled out an envelope. “Open it after class when you’re by yourself.”

“What’s this?” The envelope wasn’t really heavy, but there was something rattling around in it.

“Guess you’ll find out after class.” He nodded. “Now go find your seat. It seems today you’re so early you can get a head start on pulling out your notebook. I imagine it’s the first time you’ve had that exciting feeling.”

“I’m seriously shaking with nerves at the thought,” I said dryly.

“Me too…” He winked. “But it was a different thought.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I had a month before she left. A month to damage her life, a month to plan. Then again, I’d been planning for a while. So really, all I had was a month to enjoy her before things went black. It honestly pissed me off — you have no idea how much it pissed me off, that tiny sliver of a feeling that tried to push through the darkness. I think it was guilt? Or maybe just a bad case of indigestion. I ignored it and pressed on. Funny, because if it was guilt it, just made me that much more determined to ruin her, to ruin a life that had such a bright future, whereas mine had been damned the very second I was born to the wrong family. Dad had called that day, asking about which pills I was taking. Honestly, they all ran together I wrote down any physical symptoms, like getting a rash on my ass, as well as if they made me feel suicidal. Actually, every pill I was prescribed made me feel suicidal, but that feeling was always paired with what I’d like to call a god-complex. Yeah, I may want to die, but, man, in my death I’d still be a god. I was untouchable. Totally untouchable. —The Journal of Taylor B.