Dirty Curve

I grin.

She has friends and is capable of smiling without hiding it like normal people do. Who knew?

I chuckle when Bianca squeezes her cheeks and plants one where her hand just was before shimmying into the building.

Quickly breaking away from Echo, I jog up the steps to where Meyer holds back.

She’s leaning against the rock wall, so I sneak up behind her.

“What up, Tutor Girl, I see you’re still alive and breathing.”

Her upper body spins to face me and she pulls her phone into her chest.

“Didn’t know you knew Bianca.” I grin at the large stone building. “Your next class in here?”

“Tobias, hey,” she says in a hushed rush, putting on a tight, fake smile for the assholes who slip by us. “What ... can I do for you?”

“Wow, it’s like that?” I cross my arms, scowling down at her. “All business, huh?”

Her brows pull in and she quickly glances around.

Again, with this hideaway shit?

Fuck that.

I put on a smirk. I’m talking full blown, gonna get me some smirk, and take a small step forward, internally laughing as her features grow tense.

Her head pulls back slightly, her eyes tightening in suspicion, and rightfully so.

“Come on, baby,” I purr, laying it on thick and a bit louder than necessary. “Just last night you were calling me Daddy, and now today I’m already back to Tobias?” I tsk, taking another step until her back meets the wall. She tries to get away, but there’s no escape.

“Stop,” she hisses, turning to avoid sharing the same air as me.

Too bad for her, I crouch to meet her height.

“I believe your words were don’t stop.”

“Oh my god,” she whispers, dropping her chin to her chest as the others around us pretend not to be circling, hoping to catch some dirt flying.

“I think I need a redo, Tutor Girl.” I run the back of my pointer finger down her arm, but that fucker freezes right where it’s at, on the soft underside just above her elbow.

Meyer’s eyes briefly close at my touch, and my brows snap together. Again, with that little mouth part small gasp she tends to give, but hold on ...

I look where my touch rests.

Are those ... goose bumps?

No fucking way.

I prepare to do it again, tugging my head back slightly so I can catch every little move she might just make, but before I get the chance, she rolls her shoulder back and my hand falls to my side.

“Go.” She shakes her head, refusing to look at me.

She wants to brush me off, as if she’s not responding to my touch when she so clearly is.

I don’t get it and I don’t know what to do with her blatant disregard for me as a person, so I do what I’m used to. What I know.

What everyone expects.

I play with her some more.

“Yeah, a redo’s what I need ...” I keep going, step more into her, and speak even louder. “Maybe I didn’t quite leave my mark, huh?”

Her eyes squeeze shut, quickly flicking open and narrowing in on me. There’s a heaviness behind them that has me slowly easing up.

Unsure of what’s happened and why she’s caging up even more, I’m about to call a truce. Despite what she’s likely convinced herself of, I’m not trying to hurt her. I’m just playing with her.

But Tutor Girl does what not a lot of girls can. She surprises me.

Meyer pushes off the wall, the little ball on her head bouncing with the sudden jolt and erases the space I gave back to her. She lines her body up with mine, a sudden hint of anger tightening her features.

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” she says with conviction and a dash of sultry taunting, but I got a feeling that’s for show. “I couldn’t forget our night together if I tried.”

She shoves past. Gone is the flirty sexiness her posture and voice held for a whole five seconds and in its place is a resolute chick ready to dish it.

Tutor Girl whips around, and volcanic eyes sear mine. “And believe me, I’ve tried.”

At that, the people around can no longer pretend they weren’t eavesdropping, and laughter quickly follows.

I smirk and shrug it off, because who the fuck is she and what the fuck was that?

A fake performance I basically pulled from her.

I try not to stare as she storms across the yard, those hips swaying in wrath, that ass, that I can’t see but can picture just fucking fine, taunting me as she heads who the hell knows where, but I can’t help it. My attention’s fucking glued to her.

She’s not even supposed to be here. No tutoring or classes in the morning, that’s what I was told. That’s what she keeps saying. It’s probably lies.

Meyer stops to adjust her bag, so I pretend not to be staring at her, waiting for her to find a reason to glance back and see if I’m still standing in the doorway where she left me, but she doesn’t.