𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 [18+]

- 37 -

Finally class is over.

I sigh as I pack up my things and leave the lecture hall, the hallways buzzing with people's chit-chat and other tantrums - dodging a group of freshmen whining about assignments and some girl on the phone dramatically ranting about her situationship.

"Ugh, I swear if Professor Langley gives us one more surprise quiz, I might lose it," Layla groans beside me, flipping her hair over her shoulder as we walk through the crowded hallway.

I friended Layla two weeks ago while in my forensic psychology class. She's nice to be around - dramatic but nice.

I hum in agreement, slipping my notebook into my tote bag. "Fucking right."

She lets out a dramatic sigh. "It's always the old ones with nothing better to do. Anyway, what are you up to after this? Want to grab coffee?"

"Sure," I say, as we step outside the building. An iced coffee sounded appealing right now, as my head was pounding from the long day.

"Holy shit." Layla suddenly murmurs under her breath.

"What?" I looked up from my phone - to face her as I texted Ford that I was going to have coffee with Layla.

But her gaze was fixed somewhere else with her mouth gaping open. Half of the population outside the university was standing and staring at something.

My eyes follow her trail to the parking lot six feet away from us.

My stomach tightens as I spot him.

Are you kidding me?

Leaning against his black G-Wagon, looking like a goddamn movie scene. Tom Ford sunglasses. Sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the veins on his forearms. A cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

Looking like the every bit of trouble that ruins lives.

"Why is he staring at us?" Layla turns to face me, her eyes excited, "Does he know you?"

I glance around, noticing the way people are already whispering, their curious eyes darting toward us. The scandal from the Maximilian Ball is still fresh in everyone's minds. And now here he is, in broad daylight, parked outside my university like he owns the damn place.

"Oh, Layla..." I whisper, cursing myself, "Listen, I'm so sorry - I won't be able to come get coffee with you. Another day, okay?"

Layla blinks at me, then looks back at Val, then back at me.

"Oh my god." She breathes out a laugh, shaking my arm. "Zara. Please tell me this is exactly what I think it is."

"It is not," I lie instantly.

She crosses her arms, "So that isn't the Valentino Milan Lawrence?"

"No." I stand rooted to my spot.