Page 16 of Of Pranks and Passion

“Mr. Warner,” she snapped, her tone bristled.

Sitting up slowly, I ignored a few snickers from my classmates. I had no idea what the hell she wanted from me, and she looked like she was about to split hairs about it when Gary nudged his notebook closer to me, pointing at a note he’d written me.

“Small businesses make up 90% of global companies,” I droned.

Irritation flashed across her face, and she turned her glare on Gary. “Next time, let him answer it himself. He needs to be paying attention.”

Gary flushed bright red and ducked his head. The way she spoke to him irritated me, and I turned to face her with a glare.

“Maybe if the class wasn’t just a repeat of the material you force us to read, I’d pay more attention. Don’t take it out on him.”

“If you can’t be bothered to pay attention in class, then why bother showing up?” she snapped.

“If a good portion of our final grade wasn’t attendance, I wouldn’t bother,” I countered. “If it’s just reading the book and then going over the reading, then are you really necessary?”

“Mr. Warner, that’s enough. If you can’t be respectful, you can leave my classroom. There are plenty of others here who value their education and want to be here.”

My annoyance swelled, and I pushed to my feet, but Gary stopped me, dragging me back down. “Don’t,” he whispered harshly. He turned to the professor, giving her a pained smile. “Sorry, Professor. He’ll pay more attention.”

I shot him an incredulous look, but he just shook his head, practically pleading with his eyes for me to stay quiet. I growled in irritation and crossed my arms but stayed silent.

The rest of the class passed with a heavy level of tension. The professor was smart enough not to call on me again, but she kept shooting me dirty looks. My temper roiled under the surface, and I considered more than once getting up and walking out. It was Gary’s damn puppy dog eyes that kept me in my seat. Any time I moved too much, he looked at me like he was afraid I was going to leave. It was annoying, and I didn’t have a clue why I stayed anyway.

When class was finished, I considered stopping to talk to the professor. I was still pissed, and she needed to be knocked down a peg or two. Gary actually pushed me out the door, and when I spun on him in the hallway, he flushed red and grimaced.

“You need her for your major requirements. You can’t afford to make any enemies. No one else covers the material she does.”

Well, fuck. He had a point. But that begged the question, “How the hell do you know what my major is?”

He blinked a few times and frowned, tipping his head. “Aren’t you an accounting major? You’re in a few of the same classes as me, so I assumed…”

Ah. He made an assumption, and here I was, ready to jump down his throat for knowing shit he shouldn’t. I guess I was still suspicious of him.

“No. I’m a business major. But there’s some overlap.”

A flash of disappointment crossed his face before he mustered up a smile. “Then maybe I’m wrong. I thought you had the same major as me. I have at least two more classes I have to take with her for my graduation requirements. Sorry.”

I still didn’t get him. He reacted differently than I expected at every turn. He stood up for me, protected me from pissing off a professor I needed later, and from what I could tell from following him, he didn’t expect anything in return. What was it about this kid? It was driving me nuts.

“I’m going to the library. I’ve got another test on Wednesday. I’ll see you later?” He looked hopeful when he asked.

Technically, now that the group project was done, we didn't have to interact with each other, but I wasn’t done with him yet. Not until I figured out why he was so distracting. I nodded.

“See you later. And text me if your roommate has another movie night you feel obligated to go to. We can hang out with my friends instead.”

He smiled brightly and walked away, while I stood frozen in the hallway. Did I really just invite that kid to The Hideout? Out of our entire group, I was the last person to invite strangers into our space. Jesus, what was happening to me?

And because I couldn’t fucking help myself, I followed Gary to the library. I knew what he’d do. It was always the same. I didn’t need to follow him around anymore. Yet I followed him anyway. I stood at the end of the aisle, watching him as he set himself up at his favorite table. He took off the hoodie, since thelibrary ran warm, but carefully folded it and put it beside him, like he cared about how he treated my stuff.

I was trying to convince myself to walk away when someone stepped in front of him, blocking my view. Irritated, I moved closer, catching the tail end of Gary’s response to the guy.

“I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about. I’m not–”

“Don’t play coy,” the asshole snapped. “I know that's what you’re into, but I don’t have time for games. The stacks are right there. I’ve got somewhere to be, so hurry it up.”

What the fuck?

My footsteps were silent as I walked around the guy to get a better look. I didn’t recognize him, but the look on Gary’s face set me off. He looked fucking terrified. His face was pale and his hands shook so badly he dropped his pencil. He looked ready to throw up. Just like the day of the test. That wasn’t a reaction to testing anxiety. He’d had a confrontation like this before. And that fucking pissed me off.

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