2. Cornered prey.

I suddenly cannot take in a breath. I had failed to notice his beauty earlier, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

Copper blue eyes looking back at mine with a sick sense of humor behind them, long feminine lashes, thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, full lips, and a jaw that looks strong enough to withstand a punch from The Hulk, my breath catches and the water in my mouth goes down the wrong tube.

I try to hold the cough that wants to expel the unwanted visitor in my trachea in an attempt not to make a fool of myself, even as I feel the attention of the table turn to me. I break out into a fit of coughs, blood rushing to my face.

“Are you okay?” my brother's voice is filled with concern. His eyes ask me ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

He offers me his glass and rubs my back as I regain my composure, his hand a little too rough.

“I’m okay, thanks,” I mutter.

“Sorry,” I say to the table, my eyes fixed on my plate, and everybody gets back to their conversations in the same second.

“Maybe take a second to fix yourself up, you look red as a tomato.” Fiona is quick to point out, making sure our guests don’t hear.

I look down at my untouched food.

“You are right, I have a morning class, I should leave.” My voice is shaky from the coughing.

I stand up to leave, looking down the table to Aldrich.

“I’ll have to leave you,” I say, “I have to leave for school.”

“Oh, what a shame. Well, I hope to see you again.” His voice is deep and commanding.

I get the feeling he is used to giving orders. His eyes, which are as blue as Victor’s, bore into mine, accusing me of a crime I didn’t know I had committed.

Suddenly jittery at his scrutinizing gaze, I almost knock over a glass of water in my hurry to leave. Kate shoots me a pitiful look, my brother a glare and my sister amused at my embarrassment. I do not dare look at anyone else as I leave, carrying my full plate to the kitchen.

‘Why am I like this?’

My anger boiling from embarrassment, I almost smash the plate in the sink. Instead, I empty its contents into the bin and gently place them in the sink.

I stare at my hands, shaking with unreleased emotion, and ball them into fists. Tears sting my eyes.

‘I wish I was dead.’

“You didn’t eat your food.” Victor's voice pierces my skull.

I never heard him enter. How long has he been standing there? This would make it the second time in a day he has seen me in a way no one should. I shove down my emotions, blinking my almost spilling tears, and wear my poker face as I turn to face him.

“You lied to me,” I say accusingly, busying myself with tidying the kitchen.

“You never answer questions, do you?” there is a smile in his voice as he walks towards me and leans on the fridge to my right.

“I was so excited for my riding lessons,” I lie, ignoring his strong presence. My voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“We could still have them if you want… except, I don’t know how to ride. Do you?” His voice is thick with sexual innuendo. The skin on my cheeks almost burns off with embarrassment. He chuckles, the rich sound filling the room and sending little butterflies flying in my stomach.

‘Shit! I may have a crush.’ My heart hammers in my chest so loudly, I get the feeling he can hear it. I steal a look at him and as if reading my thoughts, he smirks. My knees almost give out.

“So, you like running naked in the woods?” he does not break eye contact as he asks, and the smirk on his face widens as my cheeks heat up.

I despise him, I despise everyone! Why won't my body listen to me?

“I have class,” I murmur, practically running away. He shouts something I don’t catch to my back. But I'm too far gone. If I had stayed a second longer, I would have done something there was no coming back from.

Despite all my speed and running around, I arrive on campus late, but I find that my best friend Greg has saved a seat for me beside him.

“Oh my god! Thank you!” I exclaim sitting beside him.

“When will it be your turn to save me a seat for once?”

“We both know I cannot promise you anything.”

Minutes later, there is a commotion in class, and I look up from copying Greg’s notes to see Ariel, president of the student council, and the sexiest creature I ever laid my eyes on usher an also significantly good-looking boy in the class.

She parts with him at the door with a flirtatious smile and a lingering hand on his arm. As he turns around to enter the lecture hall, my eyes roll almost to the back of my head.

Is he following me?

Still wearing the pants and t-shirt he was wearing this morning; Victor stops and looks around the class. Locating me, he smiles and begins to walk towards where I am seated. I look beside me, and roll my eyes even further as the girl beside me removes her bag from the empty seat between us to make room for him, smiling enthusiastically.

“What a douchebag,” Greg whispers to me.

“You have no idea!”

He settles in the empty seat, thanking the girl, then he leans toward me.

“You left me!” he says, with a hand over his heart. “You were supposed to show me around. Do you know how many times I got lost before, Ariel took pity on me and brought me here? Jesus! I didn’t know the county had enough money to make a campus this big.”

I ignore him.

“You know him?” Greg whispers.

“No!” I say, almost too defensive. “I only met him today and I don’t think he is capable of shutting up.” I make sure Victor can hear the last part. “Or taking a hint,” I add.

“Aw, thank you!” he smiles proudly.

The rest of the lecture goes on without a hiss, him flirting with the girl on the other side and me trying to concentrate on the class and not on what they are saying, while simultaneously being ready to laugh at Greg’s random observations and jokes and acting like I'm not bothered by the sensations from the point of contact where victor’s knee keeps touching mine every time he moves.

Is he doing it intentionally? Is there any way he would know that my armpits sting as they sweat because I get nervous around him? Does he notice the number of times I have to wipe my palm on my jeans, or the wetness of my notebook?

Can he hear my heartbeat speed up with anticipation of the next time his knee will meet mine and the way I hold my breath when it does?

I wonder if he knows what he is doing and if he is doing it intentionally. Am I his type?

I stop myself before slapping myself across the face to bring myself to reality. What am I doing?

“… to be done in groups of three, two if you don’t have that many friends.” The lecturer is saying, packing up his books into his bag.

The class laughs, as people begin to leave.

I look down at my notebook. Somehow, I managed to take some notes while in Wonderland.

“What’s the assignment?” I ask Greg.

“Don’t know. Wasn’t listening.” He looks up from his phone for a second to answer me distractedly.

“What? You were my only hope!” I exclaim in mock betrayal.

Victor leans towards me.

“He wants us to analyze the case study on the board and write an essay on it.” He says. “And on that note, shall I do the assignment with you?”

Wait, he was listening and flirting at the same time?

“Thanks, but I do mine with my friend, Greg.”

“We could do it all together if you don’t mind, right Greg?”

We both turn to him. My eyes pleading, ‘Please say no! Please.’

He looks me straight in the eye with a mischievous smile as he says, “Sure, I don’t mind. Three heads are better than one.”

“Are you saying my brain doesn’t count?” I ask accusingly.

He ignores me, extending a hand to Victor. Victor takes it and winces at the immediate contact as if he has been stung. He covers it up with a smile.

“I thought I recognized you, Conan Hargreaves, right? I am, Gregory Orion. It will be a pleasure to work with you.” Greg’s voice is deep and cold in a threatening way I have never heard before. He drags out the word pleasure in a way that suggests the opposite.

And did Victor lie about his name too?

The tension between the two can be cut by a knife. I look between them, sensing something ominous under their pretentious smiles. I can see that Greg is holding onto Victor’s hand and that Victor is struggling to get it free.

“Wait,” I cut in. “do you two know each other?” I turn to Victor, “And isn’t your name Victor?”

“It's actually Conan, I lied?” he says, wincing.

“Our families, go way back,” Greg says, letting go of his hand. Vic- Conan cradles his hand on his lap delicately. I look between them curiously.

Conan, stands up, his face furious.

“You should choose your friends wisely, Wilda, your friend comes from a family of hunters.”  He growls between clenched teeth before storming out.

“What the hell was that?” I turn to Greg.

“That was prey cornered.”

“What does that even mean?”

What the hell is going on?