It had taken a few minutes since that girl Evelyn departed my office, and look at me now, strutting down the halls of the university like a fool, going straight for the infirmary.
Why? Well, I seemed to have a knack for coming up with bad ideas.
No amount of trying to concentrate on my work was going to make me forget the picture of that idiot's battered condition. His face smeared with blood, the welts, the fact that he simply stood there and absorbed every blow without defending himself—it was a broken record playing in my head. Why the *hell* was he living in my head rent-free?
I detested him. He was arrogant, irresponsible, and utterly disrespectable. He was the last one I needed to be thinking about. And yet, there I was, unable to banish the nagging worry that had settled in my chest. I had to go see him.
I walked, attempting to justify it.
It's professional concern. He's my student, for crying out loud. I'm not doing this out of concern for him. I'm doing it because it's my responsibility to ensure my students are safe. That's all.
But I knew deep down that was a lie.
I got to the doorway of the infirmary before I could be talked out of it. I stood there in front of it, my heart racing, and my hand rested on the doorknob.
Just go in. Just check if he's alive. Then get out. Easy enough.
But before I could think about it longer, I had heard a firm voice from inside the room.
"Don't you dare do that!" Billy's voice, an odd combination of begging and threatening.
This was followed by the sound of a thud, as if something—or someone—had fallen onto the floor.
My heart bounced into my throat, and in a flash of instinct, I opened the door, fear surging through me.
And then I stopped dead in my tracks.
The situation inside was… not what I had anticipated.
the real hell that I was staring at?
The room was a mess. No one is in room expect for two.
Billy and Celeb were knotted together on the floor in what was best described as a disastrous mess. Celeb's shirt was half open, his silver hair totally disarrayed. Billy was stretched out on top of him, his arms clasped around Celeb's waist, his legs knotted awkwardly between Celeb's.
The infirmary bed was pushed halfway across the room, the rolling medical tray was overturned, and an bottle of antiseptic was on the floor.
Celeb was holding mobile aloft over his head like a trophy. Billy, on the other hand, was frantically flailing at him, his hands perilously close to Celeb's chest in what could only be called a very compromising position.
The whole thing appeared to be something out of a badly written romance novel.
Billy and Celeb both swiveled their heads in my direction simultaneously, their faces changing from struggle to raw, unadulterated horror.
A heavy, smothering silence fell on the room.
What.
The.
Hell.
My brain for one second simply refused to cooperate.
And then, before I could even process the thought of trying to hold myself back, I let out a harsh exhale and remarked, "Wow."
Billy flinched in reaction.
I pinched my nose bridge, taking a deep breath through my teeth before settling both of them into a dull stare. "Sorry to intrude on your..... romantic moment." My voice was even. Controlled. Empty of emotion.
"Wait, no—this isn't—!" Before Billy could get another word out, I shut the door infront of me quietly.
What in the actual hell did I just see?
I closed my eyes, but sadly, my mind would not wipe away the visual. The destruction. The limbs all entangled. Billy's sheer desperation.
It didn't take a mastermind to add two and two together.
So, Billy's not only just into females. Celeb's always stuck with him for a reason, huh?
The door slammed open behind me with a loud bang, and before I could move one more step, a panting voice shouted.
"That's not what you think!"
I spun around in time to see Billy blundering into the hallway, chest gasping. His hair, slick with sweat, clung untidily to his forehead, and his shirt hung clingily about him as if he'd dashed outside in a panic.
"I was only into you!" he exclaimed, voice raw.
I stilled.
…Me?
I turned to him slowly, deliberately, raising a brow. "Me?"
Billy's already-bruised face contorted with frustration. "I mean—I am into girls!" He groaned, running a hand over his face. "Damn it, that came out wrong."
A tiny hum of amusement escaped before I could catch it. Watching him flustered was. surprisingly entertaining.
But then I let my eyes slide past him—truly take him in. The bruising stained his jawline, red and dark. There was a stitched laceration creasing his forehead, lips pulled apart with dried blood still cracking the edge. The bandaging on his cheek was new but couldn't conceal the destruction below.
And still—somehow—it was just infuriatingly how unevenly handsome he seemed.
I clucked my tongue, shutting my eyes in revulsion. Why am I doing that?
Billy, half-nearly dead and somehow still confident, caught the change. His smirk came back, lazy and maddening.
"Wait." I scrunched up my eyes. "Can you read minds now?"
"Perhaps only yours," he retorted. That smile—damn him—spread.
I blew out through my nose, folding my arms. I should've let Marcus splinter his other leg.
"I guess you know how much I despise you, yeah?"
Billy laughed, his voice rough. "Oh, very much. Enough to want to kill me."
"Exactly," I said nicely. "So shut the fuck up and keep quiet."
But naturally, Billy Scott never listened.
"So," he drawled, shifting his stance—only to wince slightly as the movement pulled at his injuries. His voice dipped into a teasing lilt. "What exactly were you doing here, Professor? Checking up on me? That's kinda sweet."
I scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just making sure you weren't dead." My lips curled slightly. "Though I have to admit, I wouldn't have minded too much if you were."
Billy let out a breathy chuckle—then winced again. "Damn, you're cruel."
I hummed. "Oh, you haven't seen cruel yet. Just wait until class."
His brows furrowed slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I ignored that and turned my head toward the infirmary. "And what in the world were you doing in there with Celeb? Looked rather… intimate."
His smirk faltered—just a little—but he recovered. "It's personal."
"Looked like it," I whispered.
He had his mouth open—most likely to utter another quip—but my curiosity got the best of me. Before I could even think about it, my hand rose, fingertips brushing the bandage on his cheek.
It was reflex. Curiosity. Nothing else.
Billy yelped.
"Ow! What the hell, miss Anderson?"
I blinked, taken aback for a moment—then smirked. "Oh. My bad." My voice was dripping with mock-innocence. "Did that hurt?"
"Obviously!" He glared, but there was a glimmer of something else—confusion? Embarrassment?—hovering beneath.
I shrugged, having a wonderful time. "Huh. I thought someone who let himself get pummeled wouldn't mind a little poke."
He growled something under his breath—definitely a curse—while I cocked my head, examining him one last time.
Take care of yourself, Billy," I told him, then added with a wicked grin, "And don't you dare cut class from now on."
His suspicious expression was too easy to relish. "Why? You want to see me every day or something?"
I took a step back, my grin growing. "Because I've got something special in store for you."
Billy hesitated. ".That doesn't sound good.
Oh, it won't," I said, spinning on my heel. "Hope you're proficient at crying."
His shocked silence was delectable.
I didn't look back—but I could sense his eyes tracking me. Heat tickled the back of my neck.
Concentrate. He's just a stupid student. A stupid, arrogant idiot.
And tomorrow, he'd find out exactly what it meant to cross me.
{Billy's Viewpoint}
I leaned in the doorframe, observing her walk away.
I had always thought it was only her face that was beautiful—those sharp angles, that precisely curved brow, those cold blue eyes that could slice a man to pieces with a single look. But now? With that short blonde hair pulled back in that tidy ponytail, waving effortlessly with each step… and that suit? That skirt?
Yeah. I was mistaken.
The way the fitted material skimmed her, the way the pencil skirt hugged her hips—damn. I didn't anticipate that. Didn't want to notice. But I wasn't blind, and hell if my eyes didn't rest for a beat longer than they should have.
Dangerous. So dangerous. And yet… couldn't help but keep watching.
"Miss Anderson," I said, voice smooth and slow.
She froze, shoulders bracing, before she looked back over her shoulder. Those icy, blue eyes met mine—a glare that shouted hate. Challenging me to speak. Threatening me not to.
I grinned. Yeah, like that ever succeeded with me.
"You're looking too good today," I drawled, my voice slow on purpose—then let my eyes dart down for a brief moment. "Especially from the back? Dangerous."
The impact was immediate.
Her back stiffened ramrod straight. Her hand darted behind her as if she might be able to protect herself—even though that skirt covered a lot—and that flush rose up her neck, staining her pale skin a delectable pink.
"Idiot," she snapped, voice tight and breathless.
And then she whirled on her heel, storming away—heels clacking faster down the floor, ponytail swinging, as if she could outpace my words.
I smiled, seeing her go around the corner.
Yeah. Way too much fun toying with her.