Chapter Two

Lakelyn

Bad Boys and Even Worse First Impressions

The four remaining jocks stand stock still, their faces a perfect replica of what I’m feeling on the inside. Shock. Confusion. Wariness. Anger. I see every emotion flickering across their palling faces as the tension-filled seconds tick by. That’s what happens when you live in a world of silence laced with fear. You get incredibly good at reading people.

The massive man, towering well over six feet, stands protectively over me, facing off with the bullies. His chest heaves with each angry breath, causing his muscular back to ripple beneath his black hoodie. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, the silent threat hanging heavily in the air as he locks eyes with the group of jocks.

I steal a quick glance around the campus, taking in the random clusters of onlookers. They point and whisper to their friends, but no one moves to help, or leave for that matter. I even catch a few with their cellphones out. My head snaps away, my entire body flushing in humiliation.

But before I can truly register their presence, the mountain of a man before me takes a menacing step forward. In unison, the jocks jerk backward, abandoning their blonde-haired friend as he struggles to pull himself up from the ground.

I lean to peek around my protector's thick, tree-trunk legs, catching sight of the man still glaring in my direction. A tiny, silent squeak escapes my lips, and for the first time, I'm thankful that no one can hear it.

“Don't look at her!” the long-haired man growls, his voice resonating with a deep, commanding timber that sends a shiver down my spine, one that has nothing to do with the cold.

The jocks, still recovering from the shock of the unexpected punch, heed his warning and avert their gazes, their bravado diminished in an instant. They exchange uncertain glances with one another, seemingly at a loss for words.

Finally, the red-haired man jerks a nod, slowly dragging his gaze toward the guy between us. He runs an agitated hand through his short locks, his jaw ticking.

“Sorry, man. We didn’t mean anything by it.”

Internally, I roll my eyes, but on the outside, I’m as stoic as ever.

Mountain Man scoffs, clearly agreeing with my thoughts. “Right. And you just happened to stomp on her belongings as utter shit tumbled from your pathetic lips. Remind me never to hire you as my lawyer, Travets, because you’re a shitty liar.”

People chuckle, but the guy, Travets, turns bright pink with embarrassment. “Jesus, Ozzy. It’s not that fucking serious, man.” He scoffs, shooting me a sly glare. “She tripped. We were just helping her up. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

In my head, I gag.

When silence meets his question, he moves to step around the wall between us, but the man, Ozzy, blocks his path.

“Come on,” Travets hisses, his fists balling at his sides. “Tell him we were helping you.”

I can’t respond to his lies, not that I’d want to, so I ignore him and remain hidden behind the protective shield of my savior, feeling a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. Who is he and why would he come to my rescue?

As tension hangs in the air, my thoughts take a darker turn.

What does he want in exchange for this whole white knight act? Because if life has taught me anything, it’s that nothing in this world comes for free, and no one is without ulterior motives.

“No. You were just about to get the fuck out of here,” Ozzy shouts, his voice echoing through the courtyard. The jocks scramble to assist their fallen friend, dragging him up from the ground before hastily retreating in the opposite direction.

A small wave of satisfaction washes over me at the sight of bloody pavement where their leader had been moments ago—a well-deserved bloody nose, no doubt.

I hope it’s broken.

A feminine giggle suddenly hits me, and Ozzy’s head snaps to the left, his profile coming into view. His strong, cleanly shaven jawline is all I can see, but it's enough to leave me gaping in shock.

“What are you waiting for? A handwritten invitation? I know that’s all your privileged asses can read but try reading the room for once. All of you. Fuck right off!” he barks, his commanding presence enough to send everyone else scattering like frightened mice.

I seize the opportunity, scrambling to collect the rest of my scattered belongings from the ground, blindly shoving them into my backpack. At this point, they could be broken and destroyed for all I care. All I want is to run, to hide, to disappear. I never should have come here. I should have chosen option B and dealt with the consequences. I should have—

My thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a large shadow descends upon me, blocking the clouded sunlight from my view and casting me into darkness. My heart skips a beat, and I slowly look up, my eyes widening as I take in the full form of the man who came to my rescue.

Ozzy.

Slowly, he drops to his knees before me, his movements careful as though he's concerned about how I might react now that we're alone. My already dry mouth turns to ash as I get my first unobstructed view of his face. From the side, he was undeniably handsome—sharp, masculine, and strong. But from this angle, full-on, with only a foot separating us, he's so much more than that.

He's...beautiful.

Before me is a man that radiates pure, unadulterated sex. Clearly of Asian descent, his sultry eyes are a rich, honey color, framed by thick black lashes and dark brows that accentuate their intensity. His chocolate brown hair falls gracefully to his shoulders in thick, loose curls, which catch natural highlights when the meager sunlight hits them just right. It's as if he walked straight out of a hair commercial, each strand perfectly placed.

My gaze stays locked on his, taking in every feature, absorbing it, memorizing it, as though I’ll never get another chance. I know I have to look stupid gaping at him like this, but for the life of me, I just can’t stop. I don’t know if I’ve ever met a man that’s so beyond perfect in my life.

Despite his striking features, he still has a youthful charm with his rounded cheeks and eyes that crinkle at the edges, as though he spends all his time laughing. Simply looking at him nearly forces an involuntary smile from my slack jawed face, a feeling I haven't experienced in years.

He’s beyond gorgeous, and I haven’t even really gotten a chance to take his entire body in yet.

Yet? What the hell. You don’t even know this guy.

In an attempt to shake myself from the web he’s caught me in, I bite my lower lip hard enough to make it bleed.

Ozzy’s eyes drop to my mouth, tracking the movement. He stares for a long second…and then, he smiles . And somehow, the asshole gets hotter.

Two deep dimples pop out on his cheeks, making my breath stall in my lungs. It's a smile that radiates warmth and kindness, a stark contrast to the intimidating presence he displayed just moments ago. As our eyes lock and his breathtaking smile envelops me, I find myself at a loss for words.

My face burns from his attention and I fight the urge to look away.

“Hi.” His grin grows.

And with his one simple word, I lose the battle, letting my gaze fall to the ground. The very cold ground I’m still sprawled out on.

I internally facepalm. Can this day get any worse?

It’s not even noon and I’ve already spent five hours on a plane, an awkward thirty minutes in a car with creep number one, been the victim of a ridiculous bully encounter from another group of creeps, like a scene from a bad teen flick and now…well now, I’m just practically rolling in my own destruction with a neon sign that says ‘I’m new. Please destroy what little self-respect I have left.’

“Uhh,” he continues, his voice quiet and gentle, almost soothing. “Are you okay?”

Ignoring his question, because I can’t even fathom how to answer, I shove my backpack over my shoulder and finally push to my feet, my eyes still locked on the ground. My jeans are wet from the cold cement, damp from rain, but it’s the least of my problems.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him standing when I do, but he doesn’t move away, his large frame towering over me. If anything, he leans in closer. My entire body screams at me to back up, to run, to protect myself. Instead, I stand there like a frozen idiot, locked in place, just like I had when the jock-asses had their fun with me.

For once, I’d like to be the person who doesn’t cower in the midst of confrontation. I’d like to be someone who stands up for themselves, who shouts back against the vicious verbal attacks and swings instead of simpers. I’d like to be the person I see in my head instead of the one my body’s convinced me to become.

I’d like to be the old me.

My eyes flit from my shoes, to his, taking in the black, heavy combat boots stretched around his massive feet. Christ, his feet have to be the biggest I’ve ever seen. An uneven breath slips from my lips, the sound the closest I ever get to laughing, as the joke rolls across my tongue. Men with big feet, and all that.

“You’re kind of freaking me out.” He chuckles awkwardly as he slides his hands into the pockets of his ripped, fitted jeans. “Seriously. Are you okay?”

Unable to bring myself to do anything, I simply shrug. I just need him to leave. Maybe then, I’ll be free from the prison I’ve found myself in.

“Do you need the nurse or something? This campus has a med facility, but it’s like, five buildings away, and if you’re hurt, I don’t want you to walk that far.” He makes a choking sound. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

Before I can respond, not that I would, his fingers are wrapped around my chin. I jump, my eyes snapping up to meet his as he drags my jaw upward, forcing my neck to arch. Blinking rapidly at the unexpected touch, I find my insides once again at war. He’s so kind, so pretty, so…comforting? I shouldn’t feel that way. He’s a stranger. A violent one, if the way he laid blondie out, is anything to go by.

But, he’s also the only person who stopped to help me. To protect me. To take care of me.

No one has done that since…

No. Shaking myself internally, I shut those thoughts down.

Ozzy’s eyes slide across my face, taking in everything, and seeing far more than he should, but instead of it feeling like daggers destroying my thin skin, all I feel is a warm flush fill my body, making heat surge throughout every cell.

“Wow,” he breathes. I blink, my brows furrowing. His fingers tighten, reminding me he’s still holding my chin, and for some reason, I don’t want him to stop. “You’re beautiful.”

My already flaming cheeks grow impossibly warmer at his declaration. I feel my throat bob, and against my will, my lips curve up slightly. Not a full smile, but a hell of a lot more than I’ve felt in a long time.

His eyes light up at the tiny movement and his thumb shifts, sliding up my jaw until it’s tracing the arch of my mouth. It’s strange, having this unknown man touch me, especially when I typically never allow anyone to get this close. But, I find myself leaning into it, soaking up the heat from his skin and his attention like a person starved of human connection.

Maybe because I am.

His movements are reverent in a way, only dragging me further down the rabbit hole he’s created.

The longer it goes on, the faster everything disappears.

The campus. My morning from hell. The jocks. The driver. The flight. Every little thing that led me to this exact moment. It all turns to ash and silence, leaving just me and him behind.

His fingers are rough and calloused against my skin, the feeling reminding me of someone from my past. A sharp stab of pain shoots through my chest, making my knees shake. But then, Ozzy’s dimples pop out, distracting me, and everything disappears once more. When he speaks, his voice is tinged with something resembling nervousness, maybe confusion.

“This is out of nowhere, and I can’t believe I’m asking before I even know your name, but do you maybe want to—” Before he can finish his thought, a loud, deep voice crackles through the air, the sound so sharp, we both jolt. His hand drops from my face as though he’s been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar and he steps away a second later.

Everything inside me turns to ice at the loss of him.

“Let’s fucking go, man!” The voice barks. “We’re late.”

Ozzy slowly drags his gaze from mine and runs a hand roughly through his hair, fucking up it’s previous perfection. I follow his stare, finding three men halfway across the courtyard, their postures tense, their faces lined with irritation. Before I can really take them in, Ozzy responds, pulling my attention back to him.

“Yeah, alright. Fuck.” He swallows hard and quietly murmurs something that sounds like, “ fucking cock blocks. ”

He glances at me, frustrated resignation etched across his handsome face. His eyes lock onto mine for a moment, searching for something I can’t place. My hands ball into fists at my sides. What’s he going to do? Is he going to finish whatever he’d been about to say—to ask? Do I even want him to?

No. No. This is insane , I berate myself. You don’t even know the guy. Besides, this isn’t why you came here. You came—

“Ozzy!” Another voice cuts across the campus, this one as sharp and lethal as a knife. It sends shivers down my spine, but not the good kind.

Everything inside me goes on high alert at the sound. It’s the kind of voice meant to eviscerate people where they stand, turning them to nothing more than a pile of bones, left to be forgotten and buried. I hate it. More than that, I hate what it does to me. In a single instant, the faceless, nameless voice forces every wall Ozzy had successfully penetrated right back up where I usually keep them.

Suddenly, the moment we’d shared seems as ridiculous as it probably looked and the urgent desire to flee rears its ugly head again.

Choking back a brutally cold breath of air, I take a step away from him. From the entire situation. Then another, and another, until my legs bump into the harsh plastic of my suitcases.

Ozzy must take the distance for exactly what it is—a much needed escape from him, from whatever that was, because his shoulders slump and his dimples disappear. His Adam's apple bobs in his perfect, thick throat before he jerks a nod.

“Hope your day gets better.” His hands slide into his pockets as he walks backward in the direction of his friends who are still shouting their impatience to anyone who will listen. His lip tips up in a panty-melting grin that does stupid things to my traitorous body. “I’ll see you around, beautiful.”

A shiver races down my spine. Why did that sound more like a threat than a promise?

And why did I like it so much?