Page 88 of 4th Degree

I force a smile onto my face. “Thanks. I’m nervous, but I’m excited for it.”

“And you’ll have Coach there to coach you,” Remy says. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a jiu-jitsu tournament, but the coaches sit four feet away from you on the sidelines and can practically talk you through a submission from where they’re sitting. He’ll have your back the whole time.”

I hate that that’s not as comforting as it was ten minutes ago.

My brain isn’t as present as it normally is during class. I’m listening to instructions and following directions, but my body seems to be on autopilot and detached from my passion for it. Dominic notices and tries to catch my eye a few times, but I don’t return the attention. I just go through the motions.

I’m not on duty to clean the mats tonight, so thankfully, I don’t need to clear my jumbled head and have a conversation with Dominic about what’s bothering me. I do respond to his worried text, though, just to assure him everything is okay and that I’ll see him tomorrow.

I just need to get out of here and think.

I toss and turn all night, and I’m still distracted when I walk into my anatomy class the next day. So much so that I don’t realize when Craig sits down next to me.

“Hey, Sky,” he greets with a charming smile. “How’s your week going?”

I force a smile of my own. “Good. You know, busy. How are you?”

“You mean since your crazy coach threw me out of the gym? Nursing my bruised pride, but I’ll live.”

I wince. Shit. I forgot about that.

I don’t have to fake the guilty look on my face. “Yeah, about that… Sorry that made things awkward. I think he’s a little protective of his students’ safety.”

Craig hums a non-answer.

An ice-cold feeling of discomfort washes over me. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me right now.

He moves on from the subject in a way that’s way too forgiving for having brought it up in the first place. His eyes are sparkling with excitement when he starts to talk, but not in a healthy way. “Listen, I’ve been wanting to ask you something, but didn’t want to do it in the middle of your midterm craziness. Since, you know, I know how ‘busy’ you are.”

I hate the way he acts like I’m using “busy” as an excuse. But I hate even more that his tone makes dread drop like a stone into my stomach.

“But now that we’re in the eye of the storm between midterms and finals, I figured it was safe to ask.” He laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe try not to make a liar out of me.”

“Craig, I don’t think?—”

“Have dinner with me.”

I blink in surprise. I can’t believe he just came out and said it, when I’ve been trying to be gentle but obvious about the fact that I’m not interested in him. Why would he think I’d suddenly say yes? Did he think cornering me after midterms would actually work? That I’d suddenly find him charming?

“I appreciate the offer, Craig, but I’m not really interested in dating right now.”

“It’s one date,” he pushes. “Who doesn’t have time for one date? I promise I’ll make it a fun night.”

I can’t stop my wince at the creepy, sexual undertone of his comment. But he sees it, and suddenly, that dread starts to feel a whole lot like fear. Because his expression turns a little crazed.

“Go out with me,” he says again, taking a step closer. “I tried to meet you halfway at the gym, but your precious coach,” he spits the word, “wasn’t very welcoming. Take a break from your little hobby and your side jobs and have dinner with me.”

It takes a second for my mouth to form words. I’m frozen in place, stunned by what’s happening. I have no problem being firm in my decisions, or communicating my opinions, but I’ve never had to reject a guy. And Craig’s reaction to my no is filling me with an unease I’ve never felt.

“I said no, Craig,” I say carefully. “I’m sorry if that’s hurtful, but my answer’s no. I don’t want to go on a date with you.”

“Come on, Skylar,” he whines, sounding every bit his young age. “You know you want to. You’ve been flirting with me all semester.”

My eyes go wide at that, and this time I don’t care about preserving his feelings. “Are you delusional? I haven’t been flirting with you. I’ve just been nice to you.”

He takes another step closer, and now he’s entirely too close for comfort. I look up at him, forcing myself to hold his gaze, but my stomach churns with unease. His eyes are flashing with an energy I’ve never come face to face with.

“That’s what they all say,” he says with a manic grin. “I like playing the hard-to-get game as much as the next guy, but it’s getting a little old. You can stop playing now and give us both what we really want.”

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