Page 12 of Desert Heat

The door to my back office slammed shut behind me.

I needed to maintain my street cred even if I looked like a punk ass bitch frat boy after my mini makeover.

“Fuck,” I swiped a hand down my cleanly shaven face, feeling the smooth skin. A growl erupted from my throat as I caught my reflection in the cheap wall mirror.

I looked young.

The skin on my face was paler than the rest of me once I was shaved so the woman made me go into a frigging tanning bed. I smelled like coconut cream and perfume since the three of them all had their hands on me in one way or another while they held up clothes against my frame to see if the fabric colors were ‘good with my skin tone’ or some shit.

“Yeah?” I turned my head at the knock. “The fuck did you do?” My eyes widen as Rogan ducks in.

He’s dressed in all athletic apparel with a ball cap turned backwards on his head. He didn’t shave off his beard but trimmed it short. “I’m playing football. You didn’t think I was gonna let your ass crack all those college girls without a wingman?”

“No. We’re too exposed if you go to.”

“I’ve got to watch my Prez’s back.” He tossed me a set of keys. “Look out the back.”

I whistled. “No shit.” A perfectly restored Ford Bronco sat proud. The chrome glistening under the fading sun. “What year?”

“1990, I rebuilt her from scratch. Took me about five years and lots of fucking sweat. She busted my balls but rides like a good bitch. My bags already in the back.”

“Fuck, bro. You really want to go to Maine?”

“I’ve never left the desert. Never had much until the Club. I figure it’ll expand my mind and all that shit those teachers promised in school before I dropped out.”

“You realize you need to go to class and learn and shit.”

He shrugged. “I’m on the football team we get tutored and the tests in advance.”

“Fine. You can come as long as your ass does my assignments too.”

“Shit.”

I grinned for the first time in hours. “I’m still your Prez, whether we’re undercover or not. Got it?” He nodded. “Good lets fucking ride.”

CHAPTER 4

MID SEPTEMBER

“Stop it!”I hissed through my teeth. “Can you just sit still?” My fist clenched in annoyance as I tried to continue typing my notes. It’s my fourth classic lit lecture and there’s no way I would’ve missed the huge asshole sitting next to me if he’d been in the first two.

He keeps bouncing his left leg completely ignoring me. The movement causes the back of his seat to keep bumping into my leg, jostling the laptop, causing me to misspell words as my fingers hit the wrong keys.

He’s so big the tiny seat won’t fit his body. It’s cold as shit here in the morning and I’m already sporting a goose downed coat to my classes but the body heat radiating from this oaf next to me has me almost in a sweat.

His gray sport hoody is over his head but every now and then when he breathes in deeply, I catch a glimpse of his dark chiseled jaw and patrician nose.

He’s slouched in his seat filming the lecture with his iPhone in one hand while tapping his fingers on the back of the seat in front of him. Even his smell is getting on my nerves; warm cotton, fresh pine, and vanilla.

My eyes lower to his bare knee.

Of course, he’s in shorts. His body temperature must naturally be over 98 degrees.

“Stop checking me out. I’m not into all that.” He gestures to me without even turning his head.

“Excuse me?” Miffed, my shoulders straighten, and I flip my hair.

“You heard me.”

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