Page 125 of Almost Rotten

Panic flares to life in my chest as I scan the room, searching for her. When I find her, I swear my heart stops.

She’s dressed in a short plaid skirt, patterned tights, and one of those goddamn sweaters that’s fighting for its life to stay closed over her tits.

Fuckin’ A.

I look away quickly. I don’t need to draw any more attention to myself, and a bulge in my pants would definitely do that.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Tremblay,” Eden says. “Please find your seat.”

There’s not an ounce of contention in his tone. If anything, he sounds chipper.

That’s the moment I know.

She let him touch her. Fuck her. She willingly submitted to him in a way sheneverhas for me.

I stalk toward the empty desk, my sights set on the goddamn bane of my existence.

When I reach him, he rises.

I freeze, my body on alert, certain he’s going to hit me.

Instead, he regards me with a puzzled look, then holds out his hand to indicate I should sit.

Turning, he tells the class, “Ms. Davvies will lead us today and Wednesday in preparation for the big event. We’ll use this time to review the logistics and volunteer packets, as well as all the intricacies that will help make the night a success.”

“Thank you, Professor Eden.”

Her voice stirs up a flurry of emotion in my chest.

As Sawyer shares her laptop screen on the projector at the front of the class, I throw down my bag and take my seat.

Rather than move back to the front of the room or head to the podium to join my girl, Eden slinks into the empty desk beside me, focuses on the white screen ahead, and murmurs, “This is your one and only warning. Leave her alone.”

His directness unlocks a twisted form of amusement in me.

He knows I’m a threat. He thinks I’ll acquiesce to his demand.

I wasn’t sure how to handle being met with civility and cordiality. But Eden slipped, he showed his cards. He’s cracking, desperation dripping from his every word.

Smirking, I pull out my phone.

With a couple of taps on the screen, I determine he has AirDrop enabled and that I’m in range.

A thrill rushes through me.

I send the video.

I set my phone on my desk, face down.

In my periphery, he subtly checks his device.

He bends low over it, and then his body goes rigid.

Quietly, I turn to him. “What do you think, Professor? Should I AirDrop this to her computer while she’s presenting?”

Eden glares at me, nostrils flaring.

“I wonder who else might be keen on seeing this. Do you think we’re in range of the dean?” I muse.