Page 43 of Whirlwind

My chest aches at her anger, but I know I deserve it. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting since last night. You don’t deserve it, and neither does Joey.”

Finley blinks at me, her shoulders easing but her lips still curled in her anger. “You’re right, we don’t.”

I keep gentle eye contact with her as I continue. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I don’t know how to act around you after…well, everything.”

She drops her arms at her sides and sighs. “So your solution was to be a jerk and act all weird?”

I rub my jaw. “I know, it was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

Finley’s gaze darts to my lips before connecting with my eyes again. “You’re drawing attention to us, Ryker. The exact opposite of what you wanted.”

My stomach sours. “Has someone made you uncomfortable?” My automatic thought went to Joey,wondering if that’s why they were in this bathroom moments ago. Maybe he was asking her about us instead of coming on to—fuck, I need to stop thinking shit like that before I explode.

“Besides you?” Finley snaps.

I pause and press my lips together. “I deserve that.”

“Yes, you do. Just because we slept together doesn’t mean you get to act like an asshole. You can regret it all you want, but I’ve earned my place on this chase, and I don’t like the way you’ve been toward me. It makes me think you chose me to get in my pants, and now that you have—”

Bile rises from my stomach. “Is that really what you think?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. We were fine before yesterday, but now you’re different with me. Acting like I’m some fragile doll, asking me if I’m okay in front of Joey. Do I seem traumatized to you?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. Like Joey said, you were acting off, and I was concerned. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The bathroom goes silent, and I fall still under Finley’s analyzing gaze. Her eyes are wide, and her breaths come out short as she takes me in, likely trying to determine if I’m telling the truth or not.

“Why did you pick me for this chase, Ryker?”

My name on her lips settles in my bones, easing me for a moment before I realize what she’s asking. My eyes narrow, and anger spikes in my gut. “You’re the most qualified—my best student if not one of the best our department has ever seen. Have I made you think otherwise?”

Her chest heaves as her breaths get shorter. “After yesterday, I’ve been questioning if maybe your choice has been colored by”—she waves between the two of us—“whatever this is between us. It doesn’t help that you bought me a brand-new camera. I shouldn’t have accepted it. Maybe I shouldn’t even be here.”

My chest cracks in two, and anger flares hot, making me lash out. “Stop that right now.” The command comesout in a bark, one that has her jumping at the tone of it. “I may be an asshole sometimes, but don’t ever think that I would do that to you. You should know me better than that, know yourself better than that. Don’t ever question why you’re here or if you should be here. You earned this spot, and that’s that.”

“Ryker…” She trails off, her tone still defeated.

Even though I know I shouldn’t, I step into her space, backing her toward the far wall of the small bathroom. “Do you really think I would bring you here this weekend if you didn’t deserve it?”

“I don’t know.”

I chuff. “What do you think I do? Fudge your grades? Give you an advantage?” My voice gets harsher now. “You take all of your tests online except for finals, which are still checked by a scanner. Your lab grades are not something I would ever fudge nor would I want to. You know the work we do is too important to me. You’ve earned every A and opportunity you’ve been given. Do I make myself clear?”

“I—”

Our chests brush together, and the warmth of her body seeps into mine as I stare down at her. “Do I make myself clear,Ms. Buckley?”

Finley licks her lips, a long pause passing between us before she says, “I hear you.” But her voice is quiet and too meek. I don’t like it—I don’t like it at all.

I stare deeper into the brown depths of her eyes, our bodies even closer now. We’re close enough that I swear I can feel her heart pounding in her chest, beating in time with mine. “I mean it. Tell me you don’t think so little of yourself.”

“Ryker, I…” She trails off again.

“Tell. Me.” I punctuate the words. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I don’t think so little of myself,” she breathes out, the warmth of her breath puffing against my cheek.

“Say it again, louder.”

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