Enough | ✔️

+ 22 (ii) +

Grant brutally shoves open the door.

It flies backwards and Slater barely manages to move to the side in time, delivering the brunt of the force to the wall.

"Okay, okay, okay, okay, stop," I intercept, standing between them.

My mind suddenly slows as I take the time to appreciate Slater's chiselled upper half. Not bad for a full time teacher, I think to myself.

My gaze can't help but linger, but when it finally does lift to Slater's, I'm blushing all over again. His eyes are already on mine, still full of ferocity towards Grant but sprinkled with amusement for my ogling.

"Can you put on a shirt first?" I ask, just as Grant charges past me and pushes him back into the wall.

I almost choke as the desk rattles and a picture frame wobbles on its nail. Trying to tug away Grant's grasp, I soon realise that Slater doesn't need my help. He pulls away Grant's hand with an obsidian expression, crossing his arms over his built chest.

"What has made you so forward with your dislike of me, Mr Lincoln?" Slater questions, his formal tone unfaltering, even in the heat of their disagreement.

Grant is not as calm and composed as he replies, "Maybe it's because you're a shady character hanging around my friend," he snarls, before an evil smile takes over his features, "or maybe it's because your new boss just so happens to be my father."

I'm left gaping like a fish out of water but Slater doesn't seem to miss a beat.

"Cool," he comments casually, the word so foreign to his tongue.

I find the energy to laugh, and both heads turn to me.

Slater's intense gaze reminds me of what happened earlier, and I quickly downcast my eyes to stop him reading me like a book.

Slater continues, "But that doesn't matter to me right now. Please leave, because as a professor at this university, I still have the right to file complaints against students. With enough valid complaints, it is university law that the student be expelled at the earliest convenience, regardless of whether aforementioned student's father is the manager or not."

"My father could easily rewrite university law, Professor Hartley," Grant grits his teeth in aggravation but remains smug.

I watch the two go back and forth like an intense game of table tennis.

"This university hasn't changed its laws for 27 years, I think you'd have some trouble getting it approved by your father's boss."

Grant still seems unconvinced, but heads for the door anyway, "Believe what you want. Come on, Quo. You can stay over at mine tonight."

I unfreeze myself before I process what he said and every muscle in my body locks up again. Stay over at his?

Slater steps closer to me, completely irritated with Grant at this point, "She's not going anywhere, Mr Lincoln. Students must sleep in their assigned beds in their assigned rooms. And I know personally that she will be a lot safer with me than with you."

Grant looks over his shoulder at me, cocking an eyebrow, "You really gonna stay with this dude over me?"

"We just made up today, Grant, and I don't even fully trust you anymore. Slater hasn't done anything to me," I defend, scowling at his derogatory description of the Greek god next to me as 'this dude'.

"You know what?" Grant asks, "Go fuck yourself. Why don't you fuck each other actually - 'Slater' seems up for it. I'm done pretending to be your friend, Quorra."