Page 45 of Magical Academy for Delinquents
"When?"
"I'm serious about getting you into bed."
I shook my head and walked in silence until I made it to the third floor and my room, which was at the very start of the hall. "I'm probably gonna end up pulling your hair out or spelling you to have a giant rash someday."
"As long as you spare my dick."
"Why would I do that?"
"Remember, he chose you. That’s special."
“That’s about as special as the special sauce at McDonalds, which they hand out to everybody.”
“My dick’s insulted. He’s shaking his head at you.” Zavier swung his hips side to side.
I reached my door and banged my head into it several times. "Why am I such a glutton for punishment?" Why was I hanging around Zavier at all? Why wasn't I avoiding him, focused on my pity party and my goal? Why did I let him tag along like the Pokey Little Puppy?
Zavier's hand reached out before I could smack my head into the door one more time. "Hey, now, enough of that. You're a glutton because you can't get enough of me." He slid my key out of my hand and unlocked my door, letting himself into my room.
I stood in the hall and watched him go inside, glancing around at my bare walls before heading to my dresser. He set down his food on the bare dresser top and pulled open a drawer. Then he rifled through my things. He had absolutely no respect for my privacy. But I didn’t stop him. I just watched as he pulled open my underwear drawer and slid his finger through a bra strap, lifting it to check the size on the tag. When he realized I hadn't come into my own room, he dropped the bra back in the drawer and walked back get me.
I shook my head as I stared up at him. "But why?" I was still stuck on our earlier topic. Why did I let him annoy me and razz me and touch my underthings?
Zavier grabbed my hand and gently pulled me inside, shutting the door softly behind me. He snicked the lock into place. And then he hugged me to him, softly stroking my back before he answered. But when he did, molehills became mountains, splinters turned into trees, drops became oceans. “I like you because you’re quick-witted and hot as fuck but not obsessed with your looks. I like you because my chest does a happy dance when I see you.”
My heart felt like it was sparkling. Like it was a diamond and it had just been pummeled with light and rainbows were streaming out of it. Then Zavier leaned down and whispered into my ear in his dirty, flirty voice, "You like me, because you're the saddest girl I've ever known. And I make you laugh."
I sucked in a breath. How did he know? How did he see that? No one ever saw the real me. The masks, the bitch face I wore, the clever little quips—everyone only every recognized the surface level, things I chose to show them. How had Zavier, Mr. Fluff and Tease, Mr. Playful—how did he know?
For once, Zavier didn't laugh or bounce or giggle. He didn't make crazy eyes at me. He stroked my hair with his hands and folded me into an even deeper hug, like he was trying to crush me.
I felt like a piece of laundry that had been drying outside, cold and wet and caught in a time warp from a different era, flapping in the wind—completely exposed to the elements. But when he put his arms around me, he pulled me off that tight, thin rope I'd been clinging to and instead, I clung to him.
The silence stretched out, an admission in and of itself on my part. But I let it stretch too long. Because I didn’t know what to say. Yes, I liked him. More than liked him. But … I was me. I wasn’t this girl who fell for guys. I was someone on a mission. And I didn’t know what to say without hurting both of us.
Then, like always, Zavier’s silly side returned and ruined the moment. “Grab the phone and call Emelia. We’ll make it a threesome.”
I smacked him.
He curled away, lifting his hands and one knee in the air defensively. “Hey! Hey! I meant for movie night! Let’s ditch the tournament and hang out here!”
“Can we ditch the Sunday tournament?” I asked. It appeared like a course on my class schedule.
“Well … depends on how naughty you feel like being.”
I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t have time to mess around and get on the shit list of all the professors here.
Zavier sighed. “Fine. We’ll go to the tournament. But I expect a naughty pillow fight after.”
I grabbed my phone out of my purse. “You keep dreaming about that.”
Zavier walked over and plopped down on my bed. He snuggled my pillow. “Oh, I will.”
Chapter 19
When we walkedinto the big gym for the tournament, I hardly recognized it. Blue lights lit the walls and gave everything a strange spacey-looking vibe. The bleachers were pulled out and full, and professors roamed the wooden basketball floor. The goals were gone. Instead, what looked like a giant glass sphere, fifteen feet in diameter, was suspended twenty feet in the air. My eyes flickered over it, and the two silver ladders on opposing that rose to a platform just beneath it.
I’d heard the tournament was a brawl—Zavier had explained that much on our walk over. Everyone was required to fight twice a semester. But most of the fights were done by volunteers—guys who wanted to get out their aggression. The tournament had similar rules to cage fighting—no eye or nut shots, permanent injuries, all that. I saw two mean-looking guys at the base of the ladders. Each wore a black outfit similar to a karate kartegi and one golden, magical-repression glove on their right hand.
