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Even still, I braced myself as his lips hovered beside my ear. His breath sent gooseflesh up my neck and down my arms.
“I have files, Detective. They will tell you everything the media could not. When you move onto campus, you and I will have an evening together, understand?”
I nodded softly.
He retracted, and I pretended like his proximity hadn’t rattled me at all.
As if on cue, a man entered the weight room. He looked like a statue of some Greek god. Walked like one too. Even in a casual navy sweater and tailored jeans, he could have easily just stepped off the runway.
How did he get his hair that gold?
“Professor Karah,” he said in a deep baritone. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Razai replied, “Professor Clave! I’ve been hiding.”
The man’s proud brow lowered. “Unprofessional as always.”
“Stiff as usual,” he parried lightly. But his teasing was colder than I was used to. His posture still faced me, tilting away from the newcomer.
He doesn’t like Clave at all.
Clave said something in return, but my ears didn’t pick it up. And that was because of the overwhelming rush of my magic streaming toward the professor.
I took a stumbling step away, trying to manage the ridiculous surge.
What the hell was happening to me?
Clave’s crystalline blue eyes narrowed on me. His mouth moved again, and words trailed along. “… is this woman doing here?”
Razai gestured to me. “This is Isra Valence, our new community coordinator.”
Clave’s chin lifted as he surveyed me. “She certainly doesn’t look the part. Will she be wearing this homeless style on the job?” Then he caught the wrinkled, slightly unbuttoned state of Razai’s clothing. “Either way, I’m sure you two will become great acquaintances. Filth attracts filth, after all.”
“What a dick,” I observed, still fuzzy in the head from the sudden burst of my intuition power.
Both men turned to me, one with a delighted smile and the other with a disgusted sneer.
A few blinks later, I registered the meaning of their expressions. Whoops. “Did I say that out loud? I mean, it’s true, but that’s on you,” I said, hoping the man had short-term memory loss because what the fuck was coming out of my mouth?
“Good save,” Razai stage-whispered with a significantly brighter expression.
Clave smoothed the nonexistent folds in his sweater and lifted his chin like a proud horse about to trot across mud. “I see. So, this is the company our school is allowing to trample through our historical halls.”
He pulled out a folder from a black leather bag and handed it over to my companion. “Do try not to sully the grounds of this campus with ridiculous behavior. It lessens your worth and that of the land on which you stand on. I’ll expect more from the both of you. Razai, I will not make another set of copies.”
Razai gasped. “Clave. Your hair!”
The man’s expression went from disgusted to horror-stricken. He touched the golden curls styled flawlessly on his head. “What? What is it? Quickly now.”
Razai cocked a hip out and studied the man’s head like he was about to critique an art piece. “It’s completely flat on one side. I wouldn’t be caught dead with that embarrassing asymmetry. Better call the salon and get a refund.” He captured Clave’s arm and marched him to the door while the man patted each side of his hair, confused.
“Professor Karah, I don’t get perms. This is my natural hair—”
“Bye now.” Razai gently pushed him out the door and shut it with finality.
Even then, my magic urged me forward, begging me to follow the golden-haired asshole. “Oh, shitfucker,” I breathed.
“Bless you,” Razai replied, his brow lifted in question.
