Page 40 of Turmoil (Elite of Elmwood 1)

The big linebacker shrugged. “Walking to class.”

Fynn was an intimidating guy when he wanted to be. People gave him a wide berth as we walked by, stepping out of his way. It was almost like having the red carpet rolled out in front of us. I snuck a glance at him. “Do you even have class in this wing?”

His eyes bounced over the brick walls. “What wing is this?”

That was answer enough, but still, I replied, “The east.”

“Nah, I have Intro to Architecture with Mr. Schue.”

Specials were usually in the west wing. “Are you going to be late?”

He shrugged. “Mr. Schue is cool.”

I eyed him carefully, trying to figure out what his angle was. “You don’t have to do this. In fact, I’m trying to figure out why you are walking me to class. I can get there all on my own, you know. I wore my big girl pants today.”

Fynn’s lips lifted at the corners, eyes sparkling with humor. “They look good on you, the pants.”

“Thanks,” I drawled.

Fynn ran a hand through his curly locks. “You still haven’t figured it out. When Brock gives an order, you obey, no questions asked.”

I laughed, but then stopped when I realized he wasn’t joking. “You’re not kidding.”

He gave me an unblinking stare.

I paused outside the door to my English class. “Okay, that is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. Let me guess, if he told you to walk into oncoming traffic, you’d do it without thinking.”

Fynn opened the door for me as he said, “I trust him.”

Fine. Whatever. He was the leader of their little group. “So this is Brock’s idea. Got it.” Now I knew who to yell at. “Thanks for the unnecessary escort,” I said, walking into class with a wave over my shoulder.

* * *

After each of my morning classes, one of the Elite was waiting for me. Brock appeared to have given them all the same orders. I just didn’t understand why. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the pictures, but I meant to find out.

“Where is he?” I asked Grayson.

I had yet to see Brock today, but I’d had enough of being tailed or watched, whatever his damn order was.

Grayson’s scowl looked painful. “I’m not his babysitter.”

No. He was just mine. At least Grayson didn’t play dumb. He didn’t want to be here any more than I wanted him here, and yet, he came because Brock ordered it. “This borders on stalking, you know.” I shoved my laptop into my locker.

He gave an obscene snort. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not interested in you in any way, so don’t flatter yourself.”

Ouch. I winced. “Got it. You hate me. Join the club.” Between the slut coughs and obscene gestures I’d gotten today, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find a Facebook group dedicated to hating me.

His big brown eyes showed no remorse, and I wondered if Grayson had a heart.

Meandering around the unmovable Grayson boulder, I went to track down Brock without his help. It was my lunch period, the only time during school that the Elite and I were all together. I had a class or two with Micah, Grayson, and Fynn, but none with Brock.

Grayson shadowed me into the cafeteria until both our gazes landed on Brock. He let out a sigh of relief like he was finally relieved of Josie babysitting duties and went to sit down at the Elite table. My focus was zeroed in on one person or I might have made a snarky comment at Grayson’s swift departure.

I marched right up to Brock, put my hands on his chest, and pushed him back a step or two before he could sit down. “We need to talk, Taylor,” I hissed between my teeth.

The green hues in Brock’s eyes were more prominent than the blues as he glared down at me.

Not waiting for a response, I grabbed his hand and pulled him outside into the courtyard. I was shocked he didn’t resist as I dragged him. Brock gave a group of kids who were hanging by the gazebo a single glance, and they migrated back inside without a complaint.

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