Page 2 of Ruthless Rose

Never mind. Those kinds of thoughts will get me nowhere. Last year, on my very first day as a student at Rosehaven Academy, I’d been almost excited to see him … but then he’d shown me exactly what he thinks of me.

Nothing.The guy practically looked right through me as if I didn’t exist. He doesn’t remember me.

With a quick glance at my phone, I see that it won’t work to wait Micah out. The secretary had been very specific when she asked me to come in at 7:30 a.m.

Glancing down at my feet in my favorite pair of Vans, I cross the office, hit the hallway, and somehow keep myself going.

I can be pretty quiet when I want to be. When I’m about three feet away from Micah, his head finally snaps up, his gaze connecting with mine and pinning me in place. His dark eyes bore into me like I’ve given him some reason to be upset. A cold shudder rolls through me.

It takes me a few seconds to find words. “Um, is the headmaster in his office?”

“See for yourself,” he grunts, rolling his eyes.

What the hell? I blink, not understanding what his problem is. I feel his eyes on my back as I pass him and approach the door to knock. Goose bumps pebble along my skin.

“Come in.” The gruff voice of Headmaster Gilmore sounds on the other side of the door. With a quick side-eye in Micah’s direction, I twist the knob and push the door open.

My eyes bounce from the headmaster to … the head coach of the football team, Coach Roland. I try to school my features, but have a hard time doing it because now I’m really lost. A tight line forms down the middle of my forehead and blood rushes to my cheeks, making my head pound. I have nothing to do with the football team. I’d even go as far as saying I have an aversion to football players. Some of them are okay, but a lot of them fit right into a certain stereotype: big, rough, full-of-themselves, bullying jockfaces.

“Have a seat, please, Miss Davis. Thank you for coming in this morning.”

I open my mouth to say something, but the headmaster nods hastily toward one of the chairs at the side of the room, so I sit, crossing my feet at the ankles and smoothing my skirt over my thighs.

Headmaster Gilmore’s head bobs once at the other man, which I guess is Coach Roland’s signal to … Oh, no. He’s not going to … Why? No ...

Coach Roland’s voice is forceful as he barks out, “Micah. Come in here, please.”

My eyes widen, and I try to hide it by looking down at my hands, which are twisted together in my lap. I’m a bundle of freaked-out nerves, and I don’t know what to do with myself.

At six-foot-three and two-twenty—give or take ten pounds—Micah’s big body practically fills the doorframe when I look up to see him standing there. I have a random thought about where on earth he must have to order his blazer from to find one that actually fits him.

Holy shit.Can he see my hands shaking? I clasp them tightly together in an effort to disguise my nerves.

“Micah, have a seat, son.” His coach gestures to the chair right next to me.

He gives his coach a hard look, shakes his head, mutters to himself, then stalks over to sit down. His shoulders take up so much room I have to shift my chair over to accommodate him. It’s either that or be smashed together, arm to arm.

I struggle to breathe while I’m stuck here trying to plaster some sort of smile on my face as the coach and headmaster both turn to me. It’s like Micah’s sucked all of the air out of the room with his very presence.

The headmaster folds his hands atop his desk as he studies my confused expression. “So, Daphne, I hope we didn’t throw your schedule all out of whack this morning by asking you to come in to see us.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I just— I have no idea what I’m doing here.” My throat works to swallow, but it’s difficult, given my mouth is bone-dry.

His head bobs. “Of course, of course.” His gaze slides to Micah for a moment, who has slouched in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His legs are sprawled out in front of him, his body stealing all the remaining physical space in the office, just like he’s already taken up all the air. The headmaster gestures to him. “Micah’s having a bit of trouble in a few classes and while we applaud his athletic ability, we also expect our athletes to reflect well on our school academically.” He clears his throat. “That said, when Head Coach Roland told us one of our key football players was in need of some assistance, we thought the easiest thing to do would be to find someone in similar classes who would be capable of tutoring him. We need his grade to come up to an appropriate level in both Spanish II and Physics.”

Micah shifts in his seat, sitting forward. His elbows rest on his thighs, and his hands scrub through his short brown hair as he sighs deeply.

In my peripheral vision, his arm muscles bunch and flex, barely contained by his blazer. His whole body is stiff with restraint. He’s like a storm cloud ready to burst, unleashing a torrential downpour. A bomb on the verge of exploding.

Coach Roland looks sternly at Micah before he focuses on me. “When we asked around, we found you were highly recommended by your teachers, Daphne.”

I glance at the headmaster and then at Micah’s coach. I wet my lips and try to swallow again. “Do I have a choice?” My voice is tremulous. I kind of hate it.

“Yeah.” Micah sits up, smirking. “Do I have a choice?”

Wow.

Coach Roland presses his lips together, staring at Micah, his rising anger evident. He tamps it down before he speaks. “If you want to maintain your spot on the team, no,you don’t have a choice.” He gives his head a quick shake. “And I have to say, I don’t like your poor attitude. We’re trying to help you.”

I suspect if they were on the field, Micah’s coach would be right in his face shouting at him that he’d better learn some damn respect and manners.

I sneak another glance out of the corner of my eye. My shoulders immediately tense. Oh, man. Micah makes me uncomfortable on a daily basis, especially since I’ve had to be around him a little bit now that Scarlett is dating one of his best friends. But shoot, the disgruntled, raw energy radiates from him in a way I’ve never noticed before.

Headmaster Gilmore gets my attention. “You certainly have a choice, Daphne, but this can be beneficial for you, too.”

I frown. What?

He rubs his hands over his dress pants. “You’ll be hearing from your guidance counselor later today on that.” He glances briefly at Micah before returning to me. “I’m sure you’d prefer to have that conversation in private.”

My mouth opens, and I blink before closing it again. “Um, okay…” I huff out a breath and nod. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

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