Page 2 of Quiet Rage (Wicked Falls Elite #5)

Tamson

I stepped foot on campus five minutes ago, and I already know I don’t belong here.

“You’ll see, Tammy.” I can hear Dad’s happy, hope-filled voice in my head as I walk around feeling like an alien who just landed on a new planet where everybody wears designer clothes and looks at me like I’m a hobo.

“Wicked Falls University. This is your big break.”

I’m glad he feels that way. I’m not so sure. There has to be something wrong with me, since everybody who heard about my scholarship acted like it was the best thing that’s ever happened to anyone.

I only know that right now, I’m wishing there was no scholarship paying my way through school, because I can’t imagine feeling this way all the time.

I guess it will get better, right? I won’t be a fish out of water forever.

People will get used to the daughter of a convenience store owner walking the same campus as they do and breathing the same rarefied air.

Right?

Then again, what do I care? A flash of something hot and determined heats up my chest and makes me walk a little faster while I raise my chin.

To hell with them. I’m here to get an education.

Let them scoff at me or roll their eyes at each other.

I recognize some of them—they come to the store, buying snacks for parties and stuff like that.

I guess they never figured on having to share their precious campus with the checkout girl.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll go to class, keep my head down, do my work. That’s what I’m here for. I’m not trying to win a popularity contest.

Somehow, it doesn’t matter how many times I say that to myself as I walk across campus, the sounds of laughter and excited conversation ringing in my ears, floating my way from all directions. It seems like everybody knows everybody else. They’re all friends.

“I heard you got lucky last night… It’s amazing you’re alive after everything you drank… She could suck a golf ball through a garden hose…”

An icy finger full of discomfort travels up my spine when the guy who made that last charming remark glances my way as I pass by. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before, but that doesn’t stop him from looking me up and down like he’s figuring out whether I’m worth approaching.

I hate when guys give me those looks. I get them all the time at the store. It’s like they can’t just exist and let me do the same. They’re always assessing, considering.

And in this case, I clearly didn’t make the cut, since he only scoffs before turning back to his friends. Message received. Not that I wanted him to approach me or anything like that, but I could do without the dirty look.

My grip tightens on the strap of my backpack, slung over my shoulder, and I lower my head a little before continuing on my way. I don’t need to be friends with any of these people.

Even though I wish I could be. Admitting that, even to myself, makes my heart sink, because let’s face it, I’m never going to be one of them.

That’s what Dad doesn’t understand and never will.

When you come from this world, you’re not exactly tripping over yourself out of eagerness to invite others into your circle. That’s not how it works.

But then, he honestly thinks that just because people are kind to him in the store, it means they see him as an equal. They don’t, not in this town where money and status mean everything.

We’re the working class. People who are fine to talk to if you need to know where to find the dog food or toilet paper.

Otherwise? We might as well not exist. That’s why he couldn’t understand why I wasn’t overjoyed when I broke the news that I would be attending Wicked Falls University.

To him, this brings me one step closer to living the kind of life he’s always wanted for me.

His heart is in the right place, but his blindness to the truth leaves a bitter taste in my mouth just the same.

My first class is in the liberal arts building, straight ahead.

I made it a point to study the campus map over the past few days so I would know my way around without having to ask for help.

Just one more way for me to look like an outsider.

That means I can walk with confidence in the right direction, like I belong here.

I just have to remember I belong here as much as anybody else does.

Still, once I reach the right classroom for my American Literature lecture, I basically retreat to the back corner of the room where an empty desk sits.

I'm not trying to hide. I’m just…keeping to myself.

That’s all. There’s nothing cowardly about that, right?

Sitting back here, I can observe other people filtering in from the hallway, teasing each other, flirting…

all the stuff I don’t expect in my own life.

I have to force myself to stop paying attention to these strangers.

They only make me feel bad about myself.

I’ve made up my mind to block them out when an absolutely massive guy walks in.

I’m surprised he doesn’t have to duck to make it under the doorframe and he almost has to turn sideways to fit his shoulders through.

He doesn’t seem threatening, at least not right on the surface, but there’s something about him that makes me watch his every move just the same.

So when he walks my way, my pulse picks up speed and my palms go slick all of a sudden. From under his lowered brow, his eyes are trained directly on me, too. He’s looking at me like I did something to personally offend him, and I can only gulp loudly once he comes to a dead stop next to me.

Okay, just a little creepy. What did I do to deserve this?

He doesn’t keep me waiting for long. “This is my seat.” He even points to it like I wouldn’t know what he was talking about otherwise.

His seat? It must be the nerves that kept me up half the night, but something about those four words strung together makes a breathless, disbelieving laugh burst out of me before I even know it’s coming. I mean, what is this? Grade school?

It doesn’t take more than a heartbeat to know he’s not kidding. “Sit somewhere else,” he growls in a voice so deep, I swear I feel it vibrating inside me.

On top of that, everybody’s paying attention.

I feel them staring, I hear their soft laughter.

So much for blending in so no one notices me.

I’m too overwhelmed to say a word so I don’t, rushing through getting out of the chair and taking another desk two rows over.

My whole body burns with embarrassment by the time I drop into the chair.

He couldn’t have been much more rude if he had tried. And he had to make sure everybody in the room knew how annoyed he was, too, and now they won’t stop looking at me. How about he paints a target on my back while he’s at it?

Who the hell is this guy? What makes him so special that he gets a reserved seat? Why did everybody act like it was some kind of a big deal? Like they were expecting me to get my ass kicked or something. Just my luck, getting on the bad side of a bad guy.

I should be paying attention to the professor, but it’s like there’s an elephant in the room.

How am I supposed to ignore him? Especially when he stared down at me so menacingly.

When I look his way from the corner of my eye, all I can see are his long legs jutting out from under the desk.

Slowly, I turn my head, sizing him up. Even if he’s the sweetest guy in the entire world, which I somehow doubt, there’s no way his build doesn’t work against him when it comes to first impressions.

I mean, he’s like a walking building—at least, according to me.

I might as well be a toddler next to somebody that big.

Somebody whose head snaps around so he can glare at me just as my gaze lands on his sullen but handsome face.

Shit! And what’s the one way to be sure somebody knows you were looking at them? Looking away all at once.

Which is of course what I do, snapping my head around hard enough to leave a twinge in my neck. I need to forget this guy exists if he’s ever going to do the same for me. I very much want him to do that. Otherwise, he might squash me like a bug, the way he’s looking at me.

Instead of looking at him for the rest of the class, it’s the clock I focus my attention on. I have to get out of here the second class is dismissed. There’s too much risk of the big guy in the back catching me otherwise. I doubt anybody would stand in his way. They might get run over.

Come on, come on . I’m poised, ready to bolt, holding my breath in anticipation by the time I hear the words, “See you all on Wednesday.”

Thank God. I jump out of my chair like it’s on fire—but then, so does everybody else.

This is what I get for not taking the desk next to the door.

There’s a sea of bodies in front of me before I know it, blocking the way.

For one insane moment, I see myself jumping out a window.

Anything to get out of here before it’s too late.

But it’s already too late.

I feel him behind me. Looming over me. Breathing down the back of my neck. His voice moves through me, deep and full of danger. “Why were you staring at me?”

It’s not the question that makes me shiver.

It’s the menacing way he delivered it. Some guys might take a girl looking at them from across the room as a sign of interest. Flirting.

I’m not going to pretend I’m anybody’s fantasy woman or whatever, but I’m not exactly ugly.

I wouldn’t imagine a guy being insulted by me looking their way.

But he seems more than insulted. He’s pissed off, or at least suspicious. “I wasn’t staring,” I whisper, wishing everybody would get out of my way so I can make a run for it. What is it with this guy?

“Yeah, right,” he growls, and I shiver again as he leans down, making me shrink back no matter how much I want to stand up to him. He doesn’t need to raise a hand to me for the threat of violence to hang heavy between us.

The slight tugging at the corners of his mouth tells me he knows the effect he’s having. His nose twitches before a menacing smile slowly spreads and chills my blood. “I can smell the fear on you, little dragonfly.”

He might as well have hit me, since I’m reeling and a little dizzy by the time he effortlessly moves through the crowd and out of the room.

Dragonfly ? It doesn’t make sense at first, until I realize he was talking about the dragonfly I got tattooed on my right wrist after a drive-by shooter took my brother away last year. My quiet way of keeping him with me.

I’ve never wished he was here more than I do right now.