Page 75 of When Hearts Collide

“S-Sorry, Millie. Sorry, class.”

My exhales are ragged as I give him the barest of nods. My eyes flicker over to Ryland again, finding him staring at me, the same intense pools of gray right before he hauled me into the shed and kissed the ever fucking daylights out of me. The same eyes boring into mine in my dreams when I’d wake up sweaty with an unrelenting ache between my legs.

Are you okay? His gaze tells me if I answer anything negative, he’ll burn the world for me.

I flash him a trembling smile. I am. Because of you.

His eyes skim over my features in a gentle caress, even though we’re standing several feet apart amidst a classroom full of people. But in this moment, nothing matters. No one matters except for him.

My heart throws itself against my rib cage, wanting to escape and hurl itself toward him. The seconds freeze in time and everything begins to fade around us.

“And you were saying there’s nothing going on?” Chloe whispers in my ear. “You guys are having a full-on conversation without words.”

I don’t respond to her, because my voice is frozen, my breath is stolen by this intimidating man in front of us, and if he is my jailer, I’m willing to walk into his cage.

Chapter 29

“So, I just had the most interesting conversation with Chloe,” Belle comments from her spot on the corner of the sofa as the girls and I lounge in our living room, watching a chick flick playing on the flat-screen hanging over our brick fireplace.

It’s another regular girls’ night in our apartment where we gorge on ice cream and junk food—chips for the Peyton sisters, gummy bears for me, and cookies for Belle—and movies or TV shows. The logs crackle and pop, a fire burning in the hearth as the temperatures turn icy cold with the heavy rains pouring outside.

While I took care of the rooftop garden, Belle had taken the helm at decorating the interiors of our swanky SoHo apartment using her impeccable fashion sense.

At first glance, it’s an overwhelming burst of colors—soothing aquamarine walls decorated with colorful Andy Warhol and other avant-garde art prints, a long, lavender velvet sofa backed up against the wall, a clashing mustard-yellow armchair nestled in one corner and a teal ottoman pouf in another. But somehow, it all works together.

I swallow a sigh and stuff my mouth with a big bite of Choco Madness ice cream to buy myself some time. The explosion of chocolate mixing with swirls of thick, gooey fudge and tiny brownie pieces almost has me forgetting the incident this morning in the JEAP committee meeting.

Almost.

“What did you hear?” Feign nonchalance, Millie. Don’t twist your fingers. Don’t even look at her.

I keep my eyes pinned on the TV, which is showing the classic love triangle between a regular girl, her warm werewolf friend, and the mysterious cold vampire classmate of hers. I’ve always felt for the girl—she’s so normal, just like me, but is stuck in some shitty circumstances and trying to make the best out of her situation. Now, which man to pick…that all depends on my mood.

Right now, my mood is leaning toward stabbing the sparkling cold vampire in the heart with a stake.

After defending my honor, so to speak, Ryland went back to being his mercurial asshole self this morning—ignoring me for the rest of the class and darting out the door at the strike of the hour. I ran after him, not caring I attracted the attention of the students loitering in the halls.

“Seriously, are we back in high school?” I gritted out as I looked surreptitiously around us, the crowds of students moving around us like we were large boulders in rapid waters.

“Ms. Callahan, if you don’t have questions regarding class, I need to run to an appointment.” Civil, no-nonsense response and tone. Cold, hard eyes. A facial expression chiseled into stone. Unemotional.

“What are you doing, Ryland?” I whispered.

“It’s Professor. And that’s all we’ll ever be. Professor and student.”

“But, what about what happened—”

“Ms. Callahan.” He raised his steely voice. “The past is in the past and cannot be undone. We can only choose to make the right choices for the future. Now, excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

He stalked away, all clenched muscles and coiled strength.

Anger churns in my veins as the events of this morning play for a hundredth time in my mind.

“Just a certain someone has something going on with a certain handsome professor, who is at the helm of a certain famous family, who—”

“Oh my God, Belle, shut it with the ‘certains’ and tell us who the fuck you’re talking about,” Taylor, our negative energy “take no bullshit and no prisoners” goddess rolls her eyes, her lips twitching in amusement.

“Do you want to tell them, or should I?” Belle asks me. As if sensing my indecision, she follows up with, “It might feel better if you let it out, Millie. We won’t judge.”

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