Emma is headed toward Davis Hall at a fast clip. Her head is held high, and her hands are on the straps of her backpack. She’s wearing a pair of white shorts, and her legs are more shapely than they were in high school, long and lean.
Been working out, have we?
I have to admit her body looks amazing, even though it was amazing back in high school as well. West and Reese are both pretty tall, but I’m the tallest, and I always enjoyed the feeling of towering over her petite form—which I’m about to do again with no less enjoyment than before.
“Well, well, well. Emma Holloway,” I drawl, and she jumps at the sound of my voice. It sets off every predator instinct in me, and I step smoothly in front of her, cutting off her path. “Going somewhere?”
Reese flanks me on one side and West on the other. Working together, it’s easy to block her, and from the deer-in-headlights look in Emma’s eyes, I can tell she’s intimidated by our size. Our wall of intimidation brings a pleasant familiarity with it, making me grin.
“Yes. I have to go to class.” Emma refuses to meet my gaze, looking past me at the large building beyond the quad.
I try to keep my tone as smooth and casual as possible, but I can’t seem to hide the bite in my voice. “How about having a chat with old friends before you go?”
“Been a long time,” Reese says, his lopsided grin proving he’s just as happy as I am to see her. In an extremely fucked up way.
West remains quiet, which is standard.
“I would appreciate it…” Emma begins to say, then throws back her shoulders and stands up tall. When she speaks again, her voice is hard, and her words are a demand, not a request. “Leave me alone.”
I pause for a moment and stare at her, then watch as her gaze moves up to meet mine, her chocolate eyes flashing.
“I’ll think about it,” I reply, cocking my head.
Baring her teeth, Emma steps to the right to get around our physical barrier, and without missing a beat, West steps out to prevent her. Reese laughs, and a look of fear breaks through the stony expression on her face.
“Get out of my way,” she says to West, obviously trying not to sound afraid.
“Let her go,” I finally say, jerking my chin at him.
That’s enough for one day. Or at least, one morning.
West steps out of the way and Emma walks at a feverish clip toward Davis Hall. My friends and I turn to watch her go, and the sight of her round ass swinging fast from side to side floods me with a surge of desire.
Fucking Christ. Why the hell can’t I let go of this? Of her?
I can literally have any girl I want, and Emma isn’t like those Barbie doll kinds of girls who are always gravitating toward me. Emma is natural—untouched.
That’s probably why I want her so badly.
I also have to admit that it stirs something dark in me to see Emma so vulnerable, like she was when we all stepped in front of her. She puts on a show of strength, but the truth is, she’s like a lamb awaiting the slaughter.
You never should’ve come back, Emma Holloway.
3
Emma
Walking away as fast as I can, I hustle toward Davis Hall. I don’t bother to turn around and look behind me, although I’m pretty sure the three Icons are still watching me. I remember how in high school, it was like the three of them were constantly watching my every move.
The Icons. I don’t know where that name came from—it was what everyone at Amundsen called them—but it fits. They always seem a little larger than life, as if they’re the descendants of gods or something.
As I reach the building, someone pops out from behind a pillar near the large front doors, and I nearly scream.
“Oh, my God, Emma!” Leslie says, her eyes wide with surprise. “Are you lost too?”
I put a hand over my chest, trying to contain my racing heart. Leslie is my new roommate, a computer science major who’s a freshman too. We only briefly met at orientation, and she seemed very cool and vivacious at the time. I got the sense we’ll be good roomies, but we haven’t seen each other since that first brief meeting; Leslie wasn’t around when Dad helped me move into the dorm.
“Yes, I… I am lost,” I manage to say, noticing for the first time that my throat is bone-dry.