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I look down and see the red mark from his hand. Great.
“Well, after that, he’s a hairy wart-filled asshole.” Addy crosses her arms over her chest with a scowl.
A laugh escapes my lips, and I shake my head. “The picture you just put in my head. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him and not give myself nightmares.”
Addy and I continue eating our lunch until we have to leave for our studio class. My mind can’t stop replaying the interactions I’ve had with him since I got here. I was wrong to bring up his mother; I know that. But he has it out for me because of what my mother and his father decided to do. Two grown ass consenting adults who simply loved each other and wanted to get married.
I’m not leaving Texas. Now, it’s just a matter of principle. No, I’m going to stay here, graduate, and make sure I piss Xayden off every step of the way.
Congrats,stepbrother. You’re now in my crosshairs.
Chapter Eight
AURORA
“Over there.Let’s get those two tables against the walls.” Addy starts to head over to two of the studio desks that are in the corner of the room.
I look around the giant space; skylights scattered throughout the ceiling to provide natural light, giving the grey cement walls a brighter look. Florescent lights hang over the desks, and the old wooden tables have decades of wear and tear to them.
The studio is huge. And it looks like it holds a couple different years in one large open space. But those other areas remain empty when ours fills up with students for this studio session.
I saunter up to the table in the corner and throw my bag on top. Addy grabs the desk in front of me, plopping down and letting out an excited squeal. Sifting through my bag, I take out my laptop as I hear a plunk of another bag on the desk to my left.
I look over and fight the urge to gawk with my mouth open.He is fucking gorgeous.
His dark brown hair is swept back, his sides shaved clean. Skin that’s bronze and sunkissed. Both his arms are covered in tattoos, his tight white shirt hugging him in all the right places.
With the muscles popping out of him, how the fuck is that shirt not busting at the seams?
Oh, and let’s mention his cargo shorts and how they fit so very nicely around his ass. What a fine fucking ass it is, too.
So, basically, he’s molded from perfection. And I get to sit next to him in studio for the rest of the semester.
Fucking. Super.
His head turns to me, his lips tipping up as he grins. He stands up and walks toward me, and suddenly I’m forcing myself to look away from him.
He clears his throat. “Hi, there. My name is Damien.”
I look up at his hand extended out toward me. Slowly I reach up and place my very small hand into his giant one. I can feel the calluses on his hand, the roughness, the warmth.
He must play a sport or work with his hands a lot.
I’m sure I’ve got something he can work with those hands.
Oh my God, I’m a hussy.
“Uh, hi. I’m Aurora, uh, but call me R-Rory,” I stammer.
He beams. “Hi, Rory. I guess we’re neighbors for this coming semester.” He places his hands on my desk, and I swear my heart rate is picking up. And when he smiles, holy hell, I’m a goner.
“I-I guess we are. Are you from around here?” He shakes his head. “No. Transferred.”
My eyes widen further. “Oh? Where from?”
“Chicago. Was at Northwestern out there. How about you?” he asks.
“I’m not from here,” I say sheepishly.