Until You (Westshore Series #2)

09 | Stealing Blankets from Babies for Fun

☾ Hailey ☾

We had been waiting for Professor Wilson in her office for over twenty minutes and I was getting antsy. What's worse about being called into your professor's office is when you are called in with a guy like Kenji. Someone who hadn't been doing well in the class until I started tutoring him. He must have done something wrong if we were both called in here.

"Would you stop?" Kenji hisses at me at the same time he bumps his leg against mine under the table.

"You quit it. I'm on my side, you keep your legs together." I hit my knee against his right back, even though I told myself I was going to be good and get through this meeting like a mature adult.

I shift my legs so that the inside of my thighs are pressed together and not touching Kenji, also so Professor Wilson won't walk into the middle of us arguing, I look around the empty office space and try to ignore the heat of Kenji's body, not even an inch away.

Then his lower thigh bumps into my knee. Again.

"Why are you touching me?" I whisper, barely moving my lips, eyes on the door.

"You're touching me," is his smart-ass—and stupid—response because he'd been the one to move.

I still don't glance at him. "Why are you sitting next to me? There is another empty chair!"

"Because I can."

"You're too close."

"I've been closer to you."

Kenji knocks his leg against mine out of the blue once more, making me glance back in his direction. He is making a face at me. "Stop doing that. You're making my chair shake."

Oh. I hadn't even realized I'd been shaking my knee. I stop and shove my hands under my thighs. Then I start bouncing my heels. Where the hell is she? She was definitely late.

A hand comes down on top of my knee. "Stop. It," Kenji mutters in that perfectly balanced voice that was deep but not too deep, just perfectly aggravating. "I didn't know you were even capable of being nervous."

I stop bouncing my heels and slide him a look out of the corner of my eye, taking in his flawless complexion. I don't think I've ever seen him with a single pimple, whitehead, or blackhead. Ever. Ugh. "I'm not nervous."

He snorts so loud I turn my whole upper body toward him. He is smiling. That lean face with its microscopic pores, high cheekbones, and angular, hard jaw are all lit up.

"I'm not nervous. I'm annoyed." I say, only partially believing my own bullshit.

"You're full of shit," he mutters back, shifting beside me so that his hip is pressed against mine.

I glance back at the door, "No, you're full of shit."

He laughs, and it catches me off guard again. "Tell me what your deal is before she gets in here," he asks.

"I don't have a deal." I huff, checking the time again.

"You have a problem."

"I don't have a problem. I'm fine."

"I've never seen you so squirmy before, and I don't know if it's annoying or kind of cute."

I stare up at him for using the c-word, but nothing on his face confirmed he said anything like that to begin with. I didn't think he'd use the c-word on me, at least not that c-word. Cunt, maybe. Cute, no way.

"We'll go with annoying," he goes on, still leaving that word in the open. "I'm going to keep asking you until you give me an answer."

I don't answer so he tries again, "Haybail."