Page 9 of Manhattan Tormentor

“Try not to mess with a teacher this late in the semester, you’re almost out the door.” I joke. Not even Lachlan would go there.

He winks and strides off.

Every pair of eyes watching him go.

Lachlan is theseenFierro.

I’m the invisible one.

At least to everyone but one.

I see his eyes almost immediately when I look up.

He’s at his usual table with his unnoticeable crew. He lifts his hand and makes a gun, making a show of cocking it back.

I roll my eyes. If he thinks he’s intimidating, he’s doing it wrong. I hold his stare, drop my head to the side, and then I wind a crank to my middle finger.

Bring it the hell on, Maverick.

I’m done with his shit.

If he wants to play, then I know how to mix the right chemicals to make an almighty mess.

Chelsea finds me as I’m ready to leave. I sling the messenger strap over my head, letting it hang around my back. “You heading to Algebra? I’ll go with you. I need help.”

“I’m not doing your homework.”

She clicks her tongue and hip checks me. She smells of strawberries today because of the red sucker she has in her mouth.

She could be with the popular crowd, I still don’t understand why she clings to me.

“I don’t want to cheat, you shit. Just making sure I have the right answers.”

It’s then I hear.

“Aw, look, Damsel got himself a beard. What’s your name, beard?” Finn asks, blocking our path. He poses the question to Chelsea, but his eyes are all over me. He’s wearing three quarter denim shorts, a pair of white Nikes and a sleeveless muscle shirt clung to his torso. It shows off his one sleeve tattoo. I know he has another piece of ink on his stomach.

I hate how I’ve retained that piece of useless information. He’s always yanking off his shirts, not my fault if I take notice of what my eyes see.

As always, there’s a backward cap on his head holding back his midnight hair.

Today he has a dusting of stubble on his face.

I roll my neck back and glare at him. Putting my hand on the bottom of Chelsea’s back. He’ll torture her over my dead fucking body. “Get out of the way, Maverick.”

“Look at this, protecting his beard. Can’t she speak for herself?” He simpers with a grin that would wet panties a mile away.

“I can speak. Whether I want to speak to you is another thing.” She deadpans and I turn my head to grin at her. “Get the fuck out of our way.”

“Feisty beard.”

“It’s Chelsea. And you are dickhead. I mean Maverick. Now we all know each other, mind getting out of the way, we have places to go and it doesn’t include looking at you.”

Though it’s Chelsea who mouths off to Finn, it’s me he focuses on.

Not a surprise.

Being under his scrutiny feels like he’s put a match to my skin.

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