Page 85 of For Crosby

“Take down the asshole.”

She dropped my wrist, knowing enough to let me do what I needed to do.

The sight of Jeremy laughing with his friends had pushed me over the edge. I strode across the room, weaving around crowded tables as my heartbeat pulsed in tandem with my steps. I stopped at Jeremy’s table.

Sensing me hovering over him, he looked up.

“Can I talk to you, Jeremy?” I asked, fighting the urge to jump across the table and claw out his eyeballs.

“You’re talking,” he said, all snide and pompous.

Some of his friends snickered.

“I guess I am,” I said, feigning ignorance while wanting nothing more than to hurt him the way he’d hurt Crosby and me.

He looked purposefully around the room. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Jeremy snorted. “A girl like you gets around then, huh?”

Again, his friends snickered.

I looked each of them dead in the eyes and smiled. “Laugh again and I’ll kick you so hard in the balls you’ll be limping for the foreseeable future.”

Their faces sobered.

My focus retuned to Jeremy. “I think you misunderstood me, so I’ll say it again. I need to talk to you.”

He huffed in annoyance. “You’ve got three minutes.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

“It’ll only take two.” Asshole.

We weaved our way around the tables until we stepped outside. Jeremy stopped by the short brick wall in front of the building and sat on it, his arms crossed as if already bored with our conversation. “Speak.”

“I know I was a pawn in this vendetta you’ve got against Crosby.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to. It was clear when you asked me out. Then again when you grilled me about my meeting with the dean. Then again when you sent me to Crosby’s room instead of yours. Should I keep going because the list seems to be growing by the hour?”

His eyes drifted to the students moving around campus. “Did he send you here?”

“Why would he send me here?”

“To get me to back off.”

“Back off?” I cocked my head. “You admitting to something?”

He scoffed as his eyes followed a pretty girl who passed by us.

“Your bracelet said, ‘Potters never give up.’ Is this what it looks like? Is this what your parents would want?”

His eyes flew back to mine, darkness flashing in his expression. “What did you say?”

“I know Crosby’s parents hurt your family.”

His stare narrowed coldly. “So, he does know?”

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