Page 16 of Meeting Melody
“Are you trying to get me fired?” I keep my voice as even as possible.
He shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. No one is here.”
You’re here, I almost say. But I don’t. How did he know I was going to be in my classroom? Why did he even bother to check?
Because he’s obsessed.
Bordering on stalker.
We reach the elevator, and he finally does release my hand. Seconds later, the door slides open and reveals two giggling freshmen girls. They stare at Jacob for a moment, awestruck, and rush out of the elevator.
Leaving us alone.
I shake my head and follow him in. The hockey players on this campus are revered—especially in the winter. We’re intheirseason, and with the new starter breathing new life into the team, it’s no wonder they were awestruck. They’re akin to celebrities.
Jacob leans against the wall and smirks at me.
“What?” I snap.
“I like when you think about me.” His voice is husky.
I fold my arms over my stomach. “Well, I wasn’t.”
“Sure you weren’t.”
“I was just thinking how fucked up this school is, where everyone idolizes the hockey team. And how it gives you the false pretense that everyone will just cave to your demands.”
He snorts. “Yeah. Well, we can thank Devereux for our early winning streak. We may even make the national tournament this year.”
My expression must be blank—because I have no idea what that means.
“We’re six-zer0, Professor. Unbeatable.”
Huh.
“I’ll get you tickets to a game next semester. So you can see us in action.”
“If you don’t fail my class,” I mutter.
He pauses. The smile slips from his face, leaving a dark expression. One that, for once, I’m glad to see. Hedoesgive a shit about something. I mean—that’s what spurred on this whole thing, isn’t it? He wants to pass my class, but he seems determined to make me fail him.
The elevator chimes, the doors sliding open. He shakes his head and stalks out without answering, leaving me to follow him.
We’re on the parking garage level under the building. It’s dark and even more silent down here, save for a rattling hiss of an old generator. There are barely any cars here, on the commuter level. Just a truck backed neatly into a spot halfway down.
“You drove?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, songbird. A little snow doesn’t slow me down.”
“Did they cancel classes after you were already here?”
He doesn’t answer. He strides ahead of me, the lights on the truck flashing as it unlocks. He opens the passenger door and holds out his hand.
“Why do I feel like I’m walking toward my doom?” I shake my head and ignore his hand, hoisting myself up.
He grips my knee and pivots me before I can stop him, swinging my legs out. He steps between them and slides his hand up my thigh, holding my waist. He leans down and buries his face between my legs.
“Jacob,” I yelp.
