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The crowds of students have already departed, and there are only a few stragglers. Megan hasn’t noticed me, but as I get closer to her, I see that her right cheekbone looks bruised, and her hair is not purposely styled wildly but is a little disheveled.
“Did you lose a fight or something?” I ask, as she nearly jumps once she notices me.
“W-What?” She stares at me uncomfortably. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because this is where I go to school.”
I ignore her words as I use my hand to tilt her chin up, studying her face. Megan’s got a delicate facial structure with expressive eyes and high cheekbones, one of which contains a purplish-looking bruise.
“Did you at least win?” I ask her slowly, not totally understanding my irritation at the sight of the mark.
She looks at me with an obstinate look in those luminous eyes of hers. “This is nothing.”
I study her.
Her reaction is so familiar it’s almost startling. It’s what I used to say to people after I got my ass handed to me when I was a kid.
“So, you didn’t just get into an altercation?”
“No.” Her cheeks betray her and are colored in embarrassment. “Now, will you please let me go? You and your friends really have to stop showing up here. It’s borderline stalkerish.”
Even with all her sass, the size of Megan’s entire face is comparable to the span of my hand and it reminds me just how young and petite she is. It would be so easy to break her.
“So, who was it?” I ask, deciding not to let this go. Normally, I wouldn’t concern myself with people’s personal issues. Hell, I basically just told one of my best friends to fuck off this morning, but there’s something about this fiery art student that I just can’t ignore.
She struggles with her backpack, and I can see that it’s difficult for her to walk and carry it at the same time. I don’t hesitate to wrench it from her and throw it in Parker’s direction, who’s followed me out of the car.
“Hey!” Megan protests in alarm. “That’s my bag.”
“Put it in the car,” I order Parker, and when he walks away, I turn my attention to Megan. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?” She asks in a distracted manner, her eyes on her bag. Her tone is almost mournful as she mumbles, “My sandwich.”
“What?”
She glares at me. “My sandwich is in the bag. I was going to have that for lunch.”
She’s upset over a sandwich?
Now that I look at her, I see that she has curves in all the right places except on her face. Her cheeks look a bit hollowed.
Does this girl eat?
“Who hit you?” I force her to pay attention. “I won’t ask a fourth time.”
“Oh, good,” she says sarcastically. “Because it’s annoying when you repeat yourself.”
“I’ll go find out myself.”
Megan instantly grabs my forearm and it doesn’t escape me that this is the first time she’s initiated any physical contact with me.
I like it.
“Look, it’s just a small matter between friends. Things like this happen all the time. I’ll cover it with makeup so nobody will see it at work. I promise not to ruin the Blue Whiskey brand, okay?”
It makes sense that she thinks I’m annoyed because I don’t want her bruise on display at the club, but the sight of it bothers me…period.
