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You don’t have any friends. Loser.
I like Charlene. She’s older than I am, in her early thirties, and a single mom with two young kids. She was a stay-at-home mom when her husband died in a workplace shooting two years ago. She’s using the life insurance money she received to go back to school to become a mental health therapist. Since we’re both in the psychology program, we’ve had a number of classes together.
As Charlene looks me over, her soft round face is etched in motherly concern. “I’m sorry about Sean. That must have been awful to witness.” Her eyes dart to Jason, then back to me. “Is everything okay?”
Loser. You’re a pathetic loser.
“I’m fine,” I say as I self-consciously raise my hand in an attempt to block my face from the sound of cameras snapping images in rapid-fire.
It looks like Gary caught up with us. “Layla, look over here!” he yells. “Hey, Layla! Come on, just one good shot of your face!”
I do my best to ignore him.
Charlene’s curly black hair is pulled back in a bun, but a few loose corkscrew strands have fallen free to frame her face. Her light brown skin is heavily dotted with freckles. “I was so worried when you didn’t show up for class the past two weeks.”
“I was at home… recuperating. But I’m okay now. Really.”
Charlene smiles apologetically at Jason as she squeezes in between us so that she’s standing next to me along the wall. We stand shoulder to shoulder. She’s close to six feet tall, nearly Jason’s height, and I’m used to her looking down at me.
She nods subtly toward Jason. “Who’s the new guy?” she whispers.
I smile, knowing that he’s listening to every word. “That’s Jason. He’s my new bodyguard.”
As she sneaks another peek at Jason, Charlene presses her hand to her chest. “That’s so not fair. I want a bodyguard, too.”
I notice Jason’s pretending not to listen in on our conversation, but his smile gives him away. He’s standing on the other side of me, leaning against the wall like the rest of us as he tries to blend in. He’s doing a great job. He looks like any other college student—well, except maybe he’s a lot hotter.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice several phone cameras are still pointed in my direction as students try to sneak pictures of me. Most of those pics will end up on Instagram before class is even over, along with #LaylaAlexander, #AmericanHeiress, #WhereHasSheBeenHiding.
I know Gary’s photos will end up online.
“Come on, Layla,” Gary calls. “Your fans want to see what you look like. Just one good pic, I promise.”
Yeah, show him your ugly face. You pathetic loser.
As Gary moves, so does Jason. He repositions himself so that he’s essentially blocking the photographer. As I gaze up into his face, my heart flutters. He’s clearly on high alert as he assesses everyone around us, his expression taut, his strong jaw clenched. He’s a strikingly handsome guy with his dark hair and trim beard. And based on all the girls eyeing him, I’m not the only one who thinks so.
Two more students approach to welcome me back to class. These two I recognize as they sit right in front of me in the lecture hall, although we rarely do more than just say hello.
“Oh, my god, Layla. You poor thing,” one of them says as she scans my face. I think her name is Andrea. “I can’t believe those monsters did that to you.”
The second one, a blonde whose name escapes me—I think it begins with anS. Sara? Sierra? Anyway, she eyes Jason curiously, then turns her gaze to me. “I’m glad you’re back.” Her gaze darts back to Jason. “Is that your new bodyguard? I read about Sean getting killed right in front of you. That must have been awful.”
Before I can reply, a guy from our class approaches. He’s big and blond, with a massively broad chest and thighs the size of tree trunks. He’s dressed in jeans and a sports jersey. I know this guy—everyone does. His name is Reese.
“Hey, Layla,” Reese says as he plants himself in front of me. I have to tip my head back to see his face. “You were gone so long, I was starting to think you’d dropped the class.”
“Hi, Reese. I was out on medical leave.” I’m not sure what else to say. I don’t know this guy personally, but I know of him. Everybody knows who he is. Reese Hendricks. I think his father is some local big shot. Reese sits in the back of the room with his buddies, but he’s never paid me any attention before now. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever spoken to me before.
He read about you in the news and looked up your net worth. You’re a rich bitch!
Reese eyes Jason a moment, then turns his gaze back to me. “Would you like to grab coffee after class?”
My heart stutters in shock.
Is he asking me out?
Like on a date?
