Page 21 of Trust Me
“Why are you here?” I whisper back while writing the date and title of the lecture.
“In this class, or sitting next to you?” he asks teasingly.
“In this class getting a degree when you don’t need one, and that too. Why are you sitting next to me?” I huff, trying my best not to roll my eyes.
He adjusts in his seat, which looks too small for a man his size, and leans in closer. His expensive cologne hits me, a mix of smoked wood and spice. It’s potent, making me want to nuzzle my nose into his neck and inhale it into every cell of my body.
Wait, what the fuck? Since when have I ever thought that about anybody?
Never.
“I’m finishing my degree because I don’t like to leave things unfinished. It’s an accomplishment and gives me the credentials I need to do whatever it is I want to do next,” he explains quietly.
His breath hits my ear this time as he speaks, sending a chill down my spine. “And I’m sitting next to you, dolcezza, because there’s no one else I’d rather sit with.”
I finally spare a glance at him, my eyebrows tucked in. “The feeling isn’t mutual. The front row seems more like your thing. Those girls will take all your notes and do whatever else you want. I’m sure.” The words I said don’t shock me. But what does is the jealousy I’m feeling.
Again, what the fuck?
A smile spreads on his lips, but he tucks it away before it blooms fully. “That’s exactly why I’m sitting next to you, because I know you’re not going to annoy me. You’re not going to try to talk my ear off or touch me. And if you think those girls could hold a fraction of my interest, you’re mistaken.”
My eyes lock with his for a beat, my body forgetting where we are as I get lost in the different shades of green I can see this close.
The professor interrupts the moment, his voice coming through his microphone to signal the start of the class. That’s when I notice Elio has no backpack. He only has his phone and a bottle of water on the tiny desk.
Before he begins, I quickly utter under my breath. “Don’t bother me either then. I need to focus. Got it?”
I expect a snarky reply, but all he does is nod before fixing his gaze on the professor.
For the next hour, I take notes on the lecture because he’s one of the only professors who actually teaches on the first day of class. My notebook is covered in annotations, highlights, and scrawls of my pen.
To my right, Camille’s Word document is somewhat filled with short bullet points. To my left, the only thing Elio has done is finish his water. He hasn’t taken any notes. Clearly, he doesn’t care about his education as much as he says he does.
Occasionally, I feel him staring at me from time to time, each one making me blush, and pray to God that he doesn’t see. I don’t know why my body’s doing this to me.
He’s attractive, so what? I’ve sat next to plenty of attractive men before, so why is Elio any different?
Once class wraps up, I can’t help but sarcastically point out to Elio, “You took a lot of notes for a guy who claims to care about his degree.”
Elio smirks, glancing at my notes, then back at my face. “I don’t need to take notes.”
I stifle a groan of irritation because of course he doesn’t. “Let me guess, you asked the professor to email you his notes?”
“Interesting that you care so much, dolcezza,” he muses, but before I can tell him to stop calling me that, he says, “Ask me anything from the lecture.”
I pin him with my gaze, not wanting to play this game of his.
Camille, however, does. “Give me a rundown of the main points.”
I flip over my notebook so he can’t cheat, which only makes him chuckle. Then he goes on to tell us every important detail from the lecture, along with some additional facts about the cases I didn’t know about.
This makes me want to get my notebook out because how the hell did he catch that and I didn’t?
“See, sweetheart, he pays attention,” Camille defends Elio.
Sweetheart?
I look at her quizzically, but Elio interrupts, this time looking directly at Camille. “Quando dovete tornare ai vostri doveri reali, Vostra Altezza?”