Page 47 of Born into Madness
I’m still pissed at myself when I finally drift off to sleep hours later. I wake to an empty room and an annoying headache that I’m guessing is from lack of sleep and the pissed-off energy that’s still hanging heavy around me. I can feel the tension working its way through my body, and by the time I get myself ready and haul my ass out the door, I’m still just as miserable as when I’d first woken up.
My Russian class is the last place I want to be for so many different reasons, and when I sink into my seat, my mind is everywhere but here. I’d thrown on an old pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that’s been washed so many times you can barely see the cute Chihuahua face on the front. I quickly decide that I’m going to get together with Sav later and burn my green dress. I’ll explain to her what an idiot I’ve been, and then we’ll light the damn thing on fire and I’ll put this memory behind me.
When I run my hand over my leg, I feel the small knife in my pocket and wonder why in the hell I’d felt the need to bring it. Sadly, I think it’s a mix of the way he’d taken the time to have myname engraved on it and the way his eyes had stared into mine as he’d made me promise to carry it at all times. He’d looked so worried, and it had felt real, not like it was just some line he was repeating.
My head is more of a wreck than ever when Professor Borzov walks in. He scans the room like he always does before his eyes fall to me and linger longer than necessary. I look away, like I always do, and pretend I don’t notice. My head is still down when I hear the door behind me open. I’m still flipping through my textbook when I hear one of the girls behind me whisper, “Oh my god, who is that?”
“My future boyfriend,” her friend quickly says before they both give a soft laugh.
I ignore them, trying to find the notes I took last week, but when I feel a very large presence hovering over me, I start to turn my head right as the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen takes the seat right next to mine. He’s tall, very tall, with muscular, tattooed arms and hands, and when I see the familiar tattoos on his neck I already know who he is before he even turns to meet my eyes. I know I’m getting my first real look at Sasha—no mask, nothing obscuring his face, just him looking openly at me.
“Holy shit,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
His mouth lifts up in the smile I remember so well, and my heart races at the sight of it. All my earlier worries fly right out the door when he leans in closer, so close I can feel the heat of his breath against my ear as he whispers, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back to you last night. I came as soon as I could.”
“Excuse me. Who are you and why are you in my class?”
My face heats up at the sound of my professor’s voice, but Sasha looks calm and not even slightly worried as he slowly turns his face to my angry teacher.
I try to hide my shock when he says, “I’m her Russian tutor.”
Professor Borzov looks ridiculously pleased with himself when he sits on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms over his chest. Giving Sasha a pointed, disbelieving look, he says, “Is that right?”
A large, tattooed hand lands on my thigh. He gives it a squeeze before saying, “Among other things, yes.”
My professor doesn’t miss what’s happened, and his haughty smile slips before he turns back to Sasha and lets out a long string of Russian. I don’t catch what he’s saying. It’s too fast, and all my attention is on the hand that’s gently squeezing my leg and the thumb that’s caressing my knee.
I hear a quick, deep laugh from Sasha before he answers Professor Borzov in what has to be perfect Russian. There’s a collective gasp from the rest of the class, a few awkward laughs, and I swear the girls behind me sigh at the sound of Sasha’s deep voice and the sexy Russian that’s slipping effortlessly from his lips.
My teacher looks like he’s about to explode. His face is an unhealthy shade of red, and I can see the bulging vein at his temple from where we’re sitting several rows away. When Sasha finishes, Professor Borzov clears his throat, looking equal parts stunned and put in his place, and when I chance a quick look at Sasha, he gives me a brilliant smile and a wink that makes my body instantly spark to life.
I can’t look away, not even when the professor loudly clears his throat, not when the girls behind us start whispering again, and not even when class starts and everyone else starts taking notes. Sasha’s light-blue eyes stay locked on mine, letting me look for as long as I want, and when I finally manage to look away, he gives my thigh another squeeze and leans in even closer to me.
He’s quiet while Professor Borzov lectures about adjective endings, but after a few minutes, he whispers, “You should drop this class and let me teach you. His Russian is terrible.”
I snort out a laugh and then cough to try and hide it. Sasha squeezes my thigh again, and just like that, every single worry I’d been having disappears like smoke in the air.
The rest of the class is spent trying to take my eyes off the man sitting next to me, but he makes it impossible to focus on anything other than him. His sheer size is enough to put the focus on him, but when you add in the muscles, tattoos, and intense blue eyes, well, I don’t stand a chance in hell. Judging by the women around us who keep stealing glances at him, I’m not the only one having a hard time concentrating on Professor Borzov’s lesson.
When class is finally over, I shove my books in my bag, knowing I didn’t learn a damn thing about Russian adjectives or the endings they should take. I look over at Sasha, still surprised to see him sitting next to me.
“I’m going to need you to explain today’s lesson to me at some point, because I didn’t catch any of that, and I was already having a bit of trouble with this chapter.”
He gives me the smile that makes my chest ache and reaches over to cup my face. His thumb caresses my cheek, and I feel a warmth bloom throughout my body before making itself right at home between my legs.
“I’ll help you with anything you want, Cyn.” While I grin like an idiot, he takes my backpack and slings it over one shoulder. Wrapping his other arm around me, he says, “We need to hurry or you’re going to be late for biology.”
“How do you know…” I start to ask and then stop when I remember he said he’s been following me around. Clearly he’s memorized my course load, and judging by the smile he’s giving me, he’s pretty damn proud of it. A memory flits through myhead. Last week I’d turned around while in class and briefly spotted someone I hadn’t recognized. I’d only seen part of his face and the Yankees baseball cap he’d been wearing, but there was something about him that had intrigued me, had made me wish he’d turn around so I could see him better. “It was you, wasn’t it? In the Yankees cap?”
“It was,” he admits as he leads me from class. “You’ll have to pay attention in that one. There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to help you with that homework.”
As we walk across campus to my next class, I start to wish I’d paid a lot more attention this morning when I’d gotten dressed. Every single girl we pass stares at Sasha and then inevitably their eyes go to me. I see the confusion in them, wondering why a guy like him is with a girl like me, and by the time we get to the science department, I’m feeling all kinds of insecure. He notices and stops me before I get to the steps.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, watching as another group of girls walk by, whispering and pointing at the tattooed guy in front of me.
Sasha doesn’t seem to notice them. All his focus is on me when he tilts my chin up and asks, “Should I not have shown up in your class? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
