Page 104 of Bad for Me

“You know what goes on at that university.” His voice lowers, and I sit up a little as if that could help me hear him better. “Secrets. Lies. All of it buried by the Order.”

“Of course I know.” I glance around even though I’m alone. If there’s anything I learned here, these stone and mahogany walls can talk. And from the tunnels below to the whispering pines outside of Graveston’s impenetrable gates, you never know who’s listening.

“Then you know I’m serious when I ask you to protect her at all costs. Keep an eye on her, Woodrow. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“No.”

“‘No?’What the hell do you mean, ‘no?’”

The answer was so automatic and from my gut that I almost didn’t register that I said it. But I stand and yank my notes out of my messenger bag, more certain than I’ve ever been as I ready myself for the end of this conversation and the beginning of my first class of the year.

“I mean I’m not babysitting that spoiled brat. She shouldn’t even be here, and you calling me right now proves that you don’t think she can handle herself at an elite university and all of the good and bad that comes with it.”

“Graveston isn’t just aneliteuniversity, Woodrow, and you know it. There are things that go on there that can skyrocket you up into the stratosphere, but they can take you down just as quickly. Iwon’thave that happen to my baby girl.”

His baby girl. As if she’shisspawn with the blonde succubus instead of whatever unsuspecting victim actually fathered her.

I shrug. “I’ve said my piece. I’ll protect her by sending your precious ‘baby girl’ where she belongs. A state school where she can party to her heart’s content and use her mother’s gold-digging ways on some idiot there rather than poach frommyuniversity.”

“Woodrow—”

“I’ve said my piece,” I interrupt what I know is the beginning of his tirade. “Goodbye?—”

His burst of laughter stops me from hanging up.

“You can try, Woodrow, but I was serious when I said she can give you a run for your money. You’ve made it a point to cut her out of your life, so you don’t know Everly. She’s not that troubled teenager anymore. That accident changed her, and she earned her way into Graveston. You might as well be a good brother and protect her, because your stepsister won’t leave without a fight.”

My lips curl at his threat—hischallenge.

“You’re right about two things, Dad. I don’t know Everly, but Iamher stepbrother. Siblings fight, and I know where she came from, which means I knowexactlywhich buttons to push to send her packing.”

“Woodrow…” The way my father grumbles my name is music to my ears, and I can practically see his light skin purpling and his Teddy-Roosevelt-era mustache twitching with anger.

“Goodbye, Dad.”

I smile as I tuck my phone into my pocket and open my door. A new sense of purpose makes my feet light as I stride up the stage stairs to my podium.

The students flood into the room as Trinity Chapel’s bell rings throughout the campus, chiming the start of the first lecture of the day. I scowl as I scour each face, searching for the one that I just declared as my arch-nemesis for the next four years. Or four minutes, if I have my way.

I see the big, burly kid that ran into me earlier. The briefest of smirks lifts his lips right before he goes back to scowling at the world as he lounges in his seat. I wouldn’t have pegged him to be smart enough to skip 101, but the Order has a way with putting its members where they’re needed.

But I don’t see her, and it dawns on me that the girl I’m looking for likely no longer has braces, glasses, and a mop of barely controlled, dirty-blonde hair. The lasting image I still have of her is from the few minutes that I met her and her mother before storming off and never looking back.

Except…

An image of Everly—hair wet and slicked back with rain and sweat, skin bruised and deathly pale under fluorescent lighting—jolts me like an electric shock before I can shove it back into the dark recesses of my mind.

Fuck.

I can’t think about that right now.

No… What I need to do is start this first class off with a bang. Figure out some way to throw her off guard so she’ll immediately realize she’s out of her depth. But how will I even know it’s her unless she draws attention to herself?

Irritation heats my cheeks and I shuffle my papers to ensure no one sees my fair skin redden. The roster peeks out at me from behind my lecture, but before I hide it out of habit, I curse myself for being so dense.

Grades matter to me, not attendance. Despite what my father may believe, I am a college professor, not a babysitter. My philosophy is that if a student decides to skip class, then the grades will decide whether that was money down the drain or time well spent elsewhere. So I’ve never called roll before… but I will today.

With the paper in hand, I face the class again and clear my throat. They go silent immediately. Excellent.

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