Page 36 of Wicked Scorn
“Are you okay back there?” he calls over his shoulder, concern lacing his voice.
“Fine,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way my heart races in my chest. It’s not the bike or the speed that scares me; it’s the knowledge that I’m willingly placing myselfin his hands when I’ve been fighting so desperately for control.
As we pull up to the entrance of the building where my first class takes place on the other side of campus, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable stares and whispers that will follow us into the building. It was the same back in high school, being seen with a Blackwood guaranteed you were going to be the topic of conversation. The gaudy architecture looms overhead, casting long shadows on the cobblestone paths as we make our way toward my classroom. Jeremiah’s long arm swoops around me, tucking me against his side as if he knows what’s about to happen.
“I’ve never seen him with a girl,” a male voice snickers from behind us. I cringe inwardly, knowing that our arrival has not gone unnoticed.
“The Blackwood brothers don’t do public dates. She’s gotta be a cousin or something. No way they’re fucking, and he’d bring her out in public,” a female voice answers her friend. She’s half right.
“Shut your whore up or I’ll snap your neck in front of her,” Jeremiah says, and he stops abruptly to look back at the couple. The guy turns, walking away without a word or a backward glance at the girl with him. She scurries to catch up with him and Jeremiah glowers down at me like this interaction has set the tone for the whole day.
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I almost forgot how you guys are campus royalty.”
“Hey,” he says, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about them, alright? You’re here with me, but you’re not something to be gawked at.”
I nod, touched by his genuine concern for my well-being, even as I struggle with the weight of my dependence on him. Idon’t say anything, mostly because I don’t have the wherewithal to form any coherent thought about what’s going on with Jeremiah and me.
The classroom is in sight, and he must realize I’m in my head because he stops abruptly, grasping my jaw in his big hands, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t listen to anything you hear. I’d never keep you a secret. I will burn this whole campus to the ground to let every last person know that I am owned by only you,” he blurts out, and I’m unable to conceal the shock that is undoubtedly showing on my face. I wasn’t expecting him to say something like that to me, but his words hit me right in the chest.
Jeremiah must realize what he’s said in the heat of the moment, because he masks his expression with a more neutral one. “Come on, you’re gonna be late, bunny.”
As we enter the classroom, I can feel the gazes of my peers following our every move, their curious whispers filling the air like static. Ignoring them is impossible, but I focus on the familiar sensation of my pen between my fingers as I slide into my seat. Penn is already in his seat, grinning at me like he’s about to announce to the class that I’m pregnant and he knows which one of his brothers is the father. I would not put it past that funny fucker.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say quietly to Jeremiah when he makes no move to leave the room, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in this strange new reality.
“Anytime, bunny,” he replies, his hand resting on the top of my head for a moment before he drops a kiss to my forehead. The warmth of his lips lingers on my skin, igniting a flush that spreads across my cheeks. “I’ll be here to pick you up when class is over.”
“Damn, baby bro, I want a forehead kiss too!” Pennexclaims from a few rows back, causing the tension in the room to dissipate as laughter fills the air. The playful banter brings a smile to my face, momentarily easing the turmoil inside me.
“Get in line, pennywise,” Jeremiah retorts with a smirk, playfully flipping him off. For a moment, I almost forget about the lingering uncertainty and dread within me.
“Alright, alright, settle down everyone.” The professor attempts to regain control of the classroom. “If the Blackwoods would be ever so kind to wrap it up, we have a lot to cover today.”
As Jeremiah makes his way toward the door, he casts one last glance over his shoulder at me. I can almost feel the weight of his gaze, a look of protectiveness and desire that seems to anchor me to my seat. He offers me a small nod before disappearing into the hallway, leaving me both relieved and bereft at the same time.
I shift my attention back to the lecture, trying to focus on the professor’s words. But it’s no use; my thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and unanswered questions.
My hand trembles slightly as I scribble notes, the pen scratching against the paper like a whisper of doubt. I can’t help but wonder if accepting Jeremiah’s offer to ride with him this morning was a mistake, or if allowing him back into my life will only lead to more heartache. I don’t know who I’m trying to fool, heartache and the Blackwood name go hand in hand.
Like I had a choice. I roll my eyes at the thought. Jeremiah Blackwood is not easily swayed.
As the minutes tick by, the laughter fades, and the atmosphere in the room returns to its usual studious calm.Professor Whittier concludes his lecture and leaves us to quietly work on our assignment.
I glance up from my notebook, only to find the professor standing by the door, his eyes wide in surprise as he holds it open.
“Delivery for Oakley Ashford,” says the delivery person, a young woman dressed in a crisp uniform, her hands full with an extravagant bouquet of pink and white flowers.
My heart skips a beat at the sound of my name, and a wave of heat washes over me as every pair of eyes in the room turns toward me yet again. The weight of their gazes feels heavy on my skin, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” I stammer, raising my hand hesitantly.
“Looks like someone has a secret admirer,” Penn teases, his voice breaking through the silence. His playful grin is infectious, and I can’t help but smile back at him, despite the anxiety clawing at my chest.
“I have no idea who they could be from,” I say.
“Maybe Jeremiah’s just trying to outdo himself after that forehead kiss,” Penn adds with a wink.
“Alright, settle down everyone,” the professor chides, carrying the bouquet through the sea of desks toward me. My heart pounds in my chest, a wild rhythm that seems to mirror the chaos of my thoughts.
