Page 10 of Almost Rotten

“Sit down.” Tytus releases me and nods to the seat in the front row where I typically sit.

My hackles rise. I don’t know what he’s playing at or why he suddenly thinks he’s calling the shots.

Tone even but quiet, I say, “I need to check in with Professor Eden first.”

Dark eyes narrowed, he looks from me to the professor and back again.

When he breaks into a devil-may-care grin, I know for certain that Mercer is watching us.

With one brow arched, Ty drifts closer. He lowers his head so he can look me in the eye. When I try to turn away, he captures my chin with one finger and delicately redirects my focus. “If you don’t take a seat, I’m going to pull you into my fucking lap. Your pick.”

He sets my bag on the ground without waiting for a response, then takes his seat.

“Ms. Davvies,” Mercer calls out from the front of the room. His tone is clipped and authoritative. He expects me to approach.

But if I do, I have no doubt that Ty will make good on his promise.

Slamming down all the walls around my heart and my consciousness, I steel myself for the emotional damage that will pummel me the moment we lock eyes. Then I finally lift my head to acknowledge the man at the front of the room.

His dark brown eyes bore into me, silently begging for a clue as to what’s going on.

A storm of emotion swirls between us.

With a shuddering exhale, I give him the slightest shake of my head and send off a silent prayer.

Please let him get the message.

I’m certain I couldn’t keep it together if Mercer pushed.

In his current state, Tytus would dive in headfirst and escalate the situation quickly.

If the two of them can keep their cool until after class, then I can get Mercer alone and explain to him exactly what’s going on.

Thankfully, he reads me well enough.

With a dip of his chin, he says, “It can wait. Please take your seat so class can begin.”

As I lower into the seat, I breathe the deepest sigh of relief.

I’m barely situated before Ty clutches the back of my chair and loudly drags it closer to his.

I close my eyes tight, and when I open them again, I keep my head down. I don’t look back up at Mercer for the entirety of class.

Chapter five

Mercer

“Aword, Ms. Davvies.”

I let out a small exhale of relief, thankful my voice didn’t crack as I called out over the flurry of students gathering up their belongings and walking out the door.

She lifts her head for the first time in an hour, startled, as swollen eyes framed by sooty lashes clash with mine.

Since the moment she walked through the doors of the lecture hall, my skin has crawled with the urge to soothe her.

Something’s very clearly wrong, and I’ll be damned if I let another minute pass without knowing the source of her ire.

She rises out of her seat, and the Tremblay kid stands, too.