Chapter 2

TWO

I gape, still standing where the asshole just peeled from the lot in his muscle car, spraying me with gravel as he went. Okay, so it was a nice one, not that I know much about cars, but even I could tell it was a sleek, restored number with a huge exhaust. The leather inside looked hand-stitched, and the bodywork was clearly custom, but still.

Fuck Alek, if that's even his name.

I mean, he was hot, but that doesn't give him the right to be an asshole. Even if he has a scruffy jawline sharp enough to cut you, eyes dark enough to drown in, and black curls on his head. Shit, yeah, they would be good to pull. His hair was shaved on the sides, which I don't usually like, but it worked on him. He was taller than me by a good few inches and so muscular I didn't even know where to look. He also had more tattoos than I could count. His nails were covered in dirt, as if they were stained from a job, not to mention the grease stain he had on his cheek—a cheek pretty enough to kiss. The man was hot as hell, but he clearly has an attitude problem and didn't like me checking him out or being here, but fuck him.

They make the best sandwiches here. I always stop by when I can on the way to my classes. Shaking my head, I head back inside, smiling brightly at the waitress as I place my order and wait. When she slides it over, she leans into me, her eyes twinkling like we're sharing a secret. "He's only an ass to certain people. He doesn't even speak to most people at all." She winks and turns away, leaving me staring after her with an arched eyebrow.

What does that even mean?

"Thanks," I call. Leaving a hefty tip, I tuck the food into my work bag and head out, my hands shoved into my pockets as I walk. I ache to put my headphones on, but I'm trying this new thing where I don't block out the world, even if they feel like a safety blanket.

The walk only takes about twenty minutes, but I soak up the summer rays and do some people watching until I get there. I picked this school since it was so far from home, far enough away from my small, judgmental hometown and family. Plus, it's one of the best, and if I want to become a photographer, then I need to learn from the best.

The best teach at Pine Valley College.

Most people think it's filled with rich folks, and yeah, there are a lot of well-off kids here since they can afford the high tuition, but there are scholarship kids, those who got in on talent, not because of their parents. I'm one of them. I didn't use my parents' money or their name to get in—not that they would have let me unless I picked a major of their choosing, like medicine or accounting . . . Oh, and stopped dating guys.

Yeah, they didn't like that at all.

I cried when I found out I got a scholarship for photography, and that very same day, I had my suitcase packed and I left. They have nothing over me, no way to control me. This is my life, and I'll live it how I want to. That didn't sit well with them, and they haven't spoken to me since. It hurts, even though we were never really that close, but they are still my parents. When I watched others moving their kids in and saying goodbye, I felt lonely.

Luckily, I managed to make some fast and loyal friends, like the pink-haired maniac skipping my way right now. Her bright eyes are enhanced by her thick-rimmed glasses, her wolf cut hair is styled to perfection, and her makeup makes me jealous. Wearing a short dress, fishnets, and boots, Laila, or Lally to her friends, is effortlessly cool—so cool I wanted to be friends with her when I saw her, and when she sat next to me in Introduction to Modern Art, I nearly cried. She looked at me and smiled and said we would be good friends, and I guess she was right.

We are joined at the hip, just two orphan kids who found one another.

"Evvie," she calls happily, stopping before me with a bright smile. "Are you ready to rock profile taking?"

"Not even close," I reply as I sling my arm around her, kissing the side of her head as we walk across the open campus to the art building. The grass is filled with people studying, eating, or playing. The trees on either side of the path blow in the breeze as we reach the giant, gothic-inspired building. It never fails to awe me with its beauty, and the fact I get to study here still makes me feel joy.

"Sorry." I hear a soft squeak, and I stumble as a blur of dark hair shoots past me and into the building.

"Anders again," Lally says. "She's always late, but she's nice."

I nod as we head up the stairs.

"Yo, Evan, you coming to the party tonight?"

There's a party every night.

"Sure thing, man." I high-five the jock named Liam as I pass. He's in my history class, and despite the way he looks, he's a big marshmallow inside, and when I randomly told him I was bi, he simply nodded.

"I get it. Chicks are hot, but there are some hot guys too."

We've been friends ever since, and even though I'm not affiliated with sports, I seem to be invited to all the football parties, which Lally and my other friends love since I bring them along so we can openly ogle all the muscle and hot chicks who hang all over the football players.

"He's so pretty," Lally murmurs as we pass.

"Eh." I shrug.

"Not your type." She smirks. "You like them brooding and damaged. "

"Do not," I mutter as we navigate through the busy halls.

"There was the starving artist Michelangelo. Oh, and then the nerd with daddy issues named Cynthia?—"

"Okay." I cover her lips as she grins, licking my palm until I shoot her a look and let her go. "At least I don't exclusively date closeted girls, or not exclusively since you don't date."

She winks. "They are fun to play with."

Another thing Lally and I bonded over was that our parents didn't approve of our sexual orientations. Unlike mine, Lally's folks actually had her sent to a camp to try and "fix her," as if it were an addiction or a habit she could kick and not how she was born.

Fucking idiots.

"I don't know. I think it's a shame you two don't have the same type. You could share them." Tommy, another of our friends, pops up before us with a bright grin, paint smudged across his face.

"Ew." Lally smacks him. "Bad male. Down, dog."

He chuckles as he steps back. Wearing oversized overalls and a small beanie and carrying his ever-present notebook, he's an art major cliché, but he's also a good guy. "Just kidding, maybe, but Evvie, man, stop collecting all the art dick."

I raise my eyebrows. "I've barely dated since I've been here."

He points in my face. "That doesn't matter. They are all too busy drooling over your model-looking ass to notice. It's hella annoying," he grumbles. "I swear, if you weren't so pretty, we wouldn't be friends."

"But then who would you draw and play COD with?" I taunt as I wrap my arm around him and steer him toward our class.

"Still, not fair," he grouches. "It's always, ‘Oh, Tommy, you're roommates with Evan Shaw, right? Can you introduce us?' Boy, girl, teacher, it doesn't matter."

Lally and I stop, our heads swinging his way. "Teacher?" I blurt.

His eyes narrow again. "Not yet, but you never know, and digital arts hottie is mine."

"Mr. Ford?" I exclaim. "Dude, he's a total asshole, and that's coming from me. "

"But he's so pretty." Tommy sighs wistfully. "Right, better go or Mr. Ford will have my ass, and not in a fun way. Tonight?"

"Tonight." I nod as we watch him grab his board and run out the door, hitting it as soon as he's outside and running straight into Mr. Ford, whose coffee goes all over them both. "That boy is hopeless."

"So are you, now that you mention it." Lally takes my hand, tugging me inside the auditorium. "Seriously, Ev, what's up with you? You haven't been on a date in ages."

I shrug as I sit, pulling out my notebook, but I can feel her impenetrable gaze on the side of my face, so I sigh as the rows start to fill up. "I'm just bored, you know? None of them excite me. I don't want to be worshiped. I want to be loved, flawed and dirty."

"See, you like walking red flags. That, my man, is a problem." She sighs.

"Then we are problem children together." I chuckle, nudging her side as she slings her leg over her chair.

"Together." Lally winks as she turns to face the front. "At least you might get some dick tonight."

"Doubtful." For some reason, my thoughts turn to the dark-haired asshole from the diner.

He was totally my type.

Shame.

I drag my ass out of the art building when the stars are shining. I'm going home to change before we head out, but fuck, I'm exhausted, not to mention the meeting I have tomorrow.

Another thing about this university is the number of clubs—so many fucking clubs.

I'm just wiping my face when I squint into the darkness, making out the figure huddled in the path. Dark-haired and short, she's familiar .

"Anders?" I call, noticing two burly bastards blocking her path. My eyes narrow, and I stop at her side. "Problem?" I ask her.

She turns her big, haunted brown eyes up to me, eyes I swear I have seen before.

"No, get going," one of the guys responds.

"I wasn't asking you," I snap at him, and then I glance at her, softening my voice at the scared doe expression on her pale face. "Are you okay?"

"They won't let me pass," she admits softly in a smoky voice, as if she doesn't speak much.

I lift my head. They are big bastards with arrogant smirks. It's obvious they are trouble, but that's never bothered me. I step in front of her, crossing my arms. "Move and let the lady pass."

"Lady?" the one on the left scoffs. "We aren't finished with the lady yet."

I am too tired for this shit. "Yes, you are, and if I see you messing with her again?—"

"You'll what?" the one on the right growls, stepping closer. He towers over me, trying to intimidate me with his size. If only he knew I climbed men like him for fun, he wouldn't be so sure of himself. This one, however, doesn't want to play. He wants to fight. It's in his eyes. His anger isn't necessarily directed at me, but at anyone.

The campus is empty at this time of night, and despite what it may look like, I'm no stranger to a fight. You don't grow up bisexual in a small town without learning how to take a hit or two and throw a few punches. I don't like to start shit, not after training for years in martial arts, since my hits could do some serious damage. I have to think carefully, so instead, I warn them.

"Make sure you can't," I finish, too tired to verbally spar for once. "Now go."

"Look at this idiot. Fine, we'll play with you first." I see his fist coming and sigh as I sidestep it. Instincts kick in, and I kick out, knocking him backwards as I turn to his friend and duck under his attack before capturing his fist midair, slamming it into his face. He stumbles, shaking his head, so I do it again, and he goes down hard.

"Anders, get back—" I turn to her just as I'm hit from behind. I land on the pavement hard, scratching my arm and face, but I quickly roll us, bringing his arm up behind his back.

"Keep moving and it will break," I warn, my voice cold, but I hear a scream, and I jerk my head up to see the other guy grabbing Anders.

Releasing the one I have, I get to my feet and advance on the second guy. He tosses Anders away and comes at me as I redirect their attention. I stumble under a punch and have to hold myself back. I'm just about to retaliate when a whistle cuts through the air, and then I stumble back as a blur of muscle hits the guys attacking me and Anders. I stare, slack-jawed, as the tattooed wall of muscle beats the shit out of the two guys.

It's brutal as the guy snarls, relishing the blood he spills as he pounds both of the idiots into the ground. He doesn't even stop when they are unconscious.

When he stands, his chest heaving in his leather jacket and his hands dripping with blood, something in my heart kicks. My jeans swell with the pressure, with the beauty this guy just displayed. It was stunning, horrible, and vicious but beauty nonetheless.

Standing, he brushes his curls back and looks at me, his eyes narrowed, and that's when I realize who he is. It's none other than the asshole himself. "You," he hisses.

"You," I respond with a groan. Seriously, could my night get any worse?

Alek, wasn't it? That's where I've seen those eyes—on him.

We glare at each other before he tugs Anders to his side. "Are you okay?" he asks her gruffly. "Is he messing with you?"

"No, he was helping me." She elbows him, seemingly more confident now that he's here. "Thank you, Evan. I mean it."

"No problem." I stick my split knuckles into my pockets with a wince and glare at Alek, my eyes flitting between the two. Curiosity gets the best of me, even though I should just walk away. "Is this your boyfriend?"

"Ew, no. He's my older brother who really needs to stop assaulting people unless he wants to be arrested again," she snaps at him .

Alek stares at her and then me. "You helped her?"

I nod, and he grinds his jaw. "Thank you." It's clear he hates saying that.

I shrug and look at Anders. "Get home safely, okay? If you ever need someone to walk you home from a late class, grab one of us from the photography room. We are always there."

"Thanks, Evan." She smiles brightly, unlike her brother who is glaring daggers at me and pulling her closer like I might snatch her away despite what I just did to protect her.

"You don't need to do that. Just stay away from my sister," Alek warns.

I roll my eyes as I step closer. "Why? Worried this rich prick will defile her?" I taunt him because his disdain for me is clear.

His nostrils flare as I keep moving until I'm pressed against him. Something about him really makes me want to push back.

"Or maybe you're just a backwards homophobe?" I feel his heart racing in anger against my chest, and I know his sister is looking from me to him. "Don't worry, asshole. I won't corrupt your sister, but you on the other hand? Well, you are just too much fun."

I step back as he reaches for me, no doubt to beat the shit out of me for daring to flirt with him because that's exactly what I was doing without realizing it.

I nod at him and grab my bag, getting out of there before he pummels me into the ground.

I might be fast and trained, but Alek? Shit, I've never seen anyone move like him.

He was pure fury, and Lally was right.

I do like red flags.