Chapter Twenty-One

After chatting a bit more througout lunch, I learn that Serene loves cats is a vegan feminist, and has a girlfriend named Cicily. She even showed me a picture of the two of them with her black cat, Wilfred. When I asked why she decided to name her cat a human name, she shrugged and said, “I let him choose his own name out of a box.”

Once we’ve caught up with Adrian and finished our lunches, Serene leans back in her chair, patting her stomach contentedly. She and Adrian exchange equally ornery looks towards each other, and she begins to stand up.

“Well, I have your number so I’ll shoot you a text later so we can make a game plan for shopping,” She says, grabbing her tray from the table. “I have to get to my next class. See you around!”

I smile and wave as she does, noticing the assortment of enamel pins on her tote bag as she does. One of them looks like her cat Wilfred, and the one right below it looks like a pentagram, though it’s hard to tell from so far away. Neither of us brought up religion in our conversation, but I could honestly guess that she was Pagan or something like that. She seems like a good person.

What I turn to look at Adrian, I can see that he must think otherwise, though. He’s glowering at her back as she exits the cafeteria as if she’d run over his puppy. He catches me staring and fixes his face, his eyes softening a bit. “Sorry,” He says, making me expect some sort of excuse for his behavior. He doesn’t continue though, just stacks our trays together and begins to stand up, waiting expectantly for me to do the same.

I stay seated, folding my arms as I stare him down in defiance. “You’re not going to explain yourself?”

Adrian rolls his head back as if his neck feels stiff. Maybe it does from all of the glaring he’s done today. He sighs heavily and opens his eyes again, zeroing in on me. He looks like he’s about to resume his annoying facade, but the disobedient look on my face makes him smile, taking me by surprise.

I’m not trying to be cute.

Seeing my scowl, Adrian sighs again and sits back down, reaching to take my face in his free hand. “I said I’m sorry,” He says again, sounding unapologetic. His thumb strokes my cheek gently, making me wish he would stop touching me so I can stay grumpy at him. It’s felt like forever since I’ve seen this side of him again though, and I really don’t want to ruin his good mood again.

I look up at him, purposefully making doe-eyes at him. “Are you just trying to prevent me from making friends? Why are you acting like such a dick all of the sudden?”

He presses his tongue against his cheek as he thinks about his answer, moving his hand to the back of my neck and resting it there, continuing to draw circles on my skin with his thumb. “People here are… different,” He says after a long moment, eyes scouring the crowded dining hall.

I follow his gaze to look at the other students. They all seem fairly normal to me, aside from their scared looks when they accidentally get caught looking at us. If anything, Adrian seems to be the strange one, since they’re all so wary of him. “They look fine to me,” I conclude, turning back to him.

“Some of them are,” Adrian’s gaze lingers somewhere across the room, so I decide to look to see what his problem is now.

There is a particularly full table a few rows away from us, and I notice that none of them flinch away from Adrian’s attention. They all laugh at something one of them said, seeming to genuinely enjoy their lunch break. The guy at the head of the table seems to be the ring leader, commanding the attention of the group when he opens his mouth to say something, his eyes flickering to me.

The rest of the group follows, turning to hold our gazes without wavering. The ring leader has white-blonde hair and confident air about him that confirms my suspicion of his high respect in the group. His gaze flickers from Adrian to me, and a smirk reaches his lips. They part as he begins to say something again, and even though I clearly can’t hear from so far away, it feels odd like he’s saying something to me specifically. I furrow my brow as I try to read his lips, but Adrian brings his fingers to my jaw, forcefully turning my head back to look at him before I can tell what the self-assured guy is trying to say.

I stare up at Adrian, confused as to why he made me look at him. His eyes peer into mine as if searching my face for something. Finding nothing but perplexity written there, he lifts his gaze for a moment to shoot a glare at the table of confident friends in a silent warning that I don’t understand.

“Just trust me,” Adrian says, turning his attention back to me, expression softening again. “There are some people here that you don’t want to befriend. I’m not trying to control you,” He cuts me off as I open my mouth to protest, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’m just doing my job and looking out for you.”

I let his words sink in before responding. My father wouldn’t knowingly send me somewhere that there were dangerous people, right? Come to think of it, he’s the one who insisted on a bodyguard, though. I thought it was for his own peace of mind, but maybe there really is a good reason why he appointed Adrian to protect me. When I was attending school in Florida, I didn’t have a bodyguard. That’s why that was able to happen…

I shake the thought from my head, forcing myself back to the present. “Okay. I trust your judgment, just don’t be mean to everyone, okay?”

“I’m not mean,” He says defensively, only to prove himself wrong as he shoots daggers at someone who passes by the table. When he turns back to me and sees my pointed look, he cracks a small smile. “Okay, I see what you mean. I’ll try,”

I reach to pinch his cheek, matching his smile. “Thank you. Let’s get going then. What’s our next class?”

“Introduction to fashion history,” He says, sounding very enthusiastic as he takes my hand as we both make it to leave. I don’t miss the particularly curdling look he makes over his shoulder as we deposit our empty trays near the garbage cans, looking towards the group of boys again.

I reach to smack him on the shoulder like scolding a puppy, reminding him of the conversation we just had. “The history of fashion is interesting,” I say, trying to convince him not to revert back into a bad mood so soon.

He gives me a guilty look and wraps his arm around my waist, guiding me back into the hallway. “Maybe not, but two history classes on the same day is torturous.”

“At least we only have those two today,” I retort. “What should we do afterward?”

I’m glad to see him making a conscious effort to keep his expression neutral as passing students look at us, and I reach to give him a firm pat on the ass as a reward. It’s very muscular and round, making me smile. My boyfriend has a nice ass.

Adrian shoots me a look before pressing his fingers into my side, making me jump away from him. He has no trouble keeping me in place though and looks down at me with a grin. “You’re not ticklish, are you?”

I give him a withering look that doesn’t seem to faze him and shove his chest. I keep forgetting how strong he is. “Yes! Don’t touch me.”

He looks down in amusement but lowers his touch to the small of my back again. “I’m glad to have finally found your weakness.”

For the rest of the day, Adrian makes no attempts to hide his boredom for the length of the last lecture. By the time it’s over, he practically drags me out before I can try talking to anyone that sat around us, hardly giving me enough time to breathe as his long strides take us outside.

I recoil at the air that hits my face, having almost forgotten how cold it was. Adrian looks my outfit over, eyeing my skirt in particular.

“What kind of jacket has no pockets?” He asks, reaching to pat me down. “Why does the fashion industry hate women?”

I swat him away and pull the Burberry closer. “It has pockets, but they’re too small for anything useful. That’s why we need more women in the industry.”

He nods in agreement as he shucks off his own coat, handing it out to me. “Luckily, your boyfriend will always have a better coat for you.”

Butterflies flit around my stomach at his words before I remind myself harshly that he’s only my partner out in public. I take his coat anyway, grateful for the preheated material. I resist the urge to bury myself deep inside of it and drown in the smell that clings to the fabric.