Good Guy

Part Twenty

Scotch was pretty sure that he looked like a loon at the moment. After all, it wasn't everyday that a random guy sped down the campus hallways with a wide smile on his face and his head practically in the clouds. The possibility of other students seeing his current condition and gossiping behind his back didn't bother him at all. If it was the price for having received high praise from Cleo over the phone, then he was willing to pay up. She didn't know it, but her words had given him the confidence to think that everything would be okay between them.

Damn, she's cute, and I'm really going to ask her out this time around. Scotch made this little promise in his head as he entered the Cultural Arts and Studies College. The offices here took up the central part of the building's first floor, and was a large room divided into cubicles for each resident professor of the program. Scotch had been a student of Professor Claravera as well, and had dropped by at the old man's table enough times to become familiar with where it was.

However, as he rounded the corner that led to the staff room, something even more familiar greeted his eyes.

Jackson Cavendish was leaning against one of the corridor's massive arching entrances, looking bored with the world. The smile slid off of Scotch's face. And when the guy spotted him, he instinctively worked his jaw.

"It's amazing how we two always end up bumping into each other," Jackson said, his own displeasure coming out in the form of a frown. "Are you that excited to bash me into the wall again?"

"If you're waiting for Cleo to show up, then we have a problem," Scotch warned, the memory of what this jerkhead had done to Cleo still fresh in his mind. "Otherwise, I'm not here looking for trouble."

Jackson merely snorted and straightened up from his previously lax stance. Scotch held his ground as his upperclassman approached. If a fight was going to break out, he wasn't throwing the first punch this time around. But it didn't mean he wasn't going to strike back either. In fact, he was more than ready to sock Jackson's teeth out of his skull if the situation warranted it.

"Stop the 'kind and noble' act, Wilkins. It doesn't suit you." Jackson looked him in the eye, confident as ever. "We both know what you really are, as does the rest of the student body."

His words were enough to make Scotch's blood boil. "They only know me that way because of you. I seem to recall that you started all this."

"You were the one who punched first."

And it was a move Scotch had never once regretted. Regardless of the actions he'd taken that day, he knew that his intentions had been in the right. Jackson and his then underlings had cornered the student, and things would've gotten out of hand if he hadn't shown up. "Only because you wouldn't stop taunting him."

"So what? It's not like it was any of your business." Jackson took another step forward. "Anyone who messes with me deserves whatever's coming. You fight me, I fight back."

Scotch mirrored his movement. "You fight dirty."

"Then you better warn your girlfriend about that." Jackson's hands balled into fists, and his voice lowered to a menacing pitch. "I still haven't gotten back at her for last time."

Scotch's hand shot out and grabbed the front of Jackson's shirt before he could control his temper. He dragged Cavendish away from the entrance, his momentum propelling them both so that they changed places. He didn't want to pin the guy and cave his face in, especially so near the offices, but if Jackson mentioned Cleo one more time, then he was ready to reconsider. "Touch her and you're dead, Cavendish. I won't care if I do go to jail this time around."

To his surprise, Jackson didn't flinch. Instead, the jerk raised his brows and grinned in glee. His expression made Scotch uneasy, and his hold on Jackson's shirt loosened slightly.