Only Him

Chapter 3: After Class

The first few days of school were a total blur. Introductions, orientations, syllabuses – it was like someone had dumped a bucket of information over my head and expected me to swim in it. But honestly, most of my time wasn't spent drowning in academics. It was spent with the twins, Mark and Mike and him. Latrell.

Latrell, with his smirk and eyes that seemed to hold a million secrets. Latrell, who yesterday had handed me this sleek gold card – like something out of a spy movie – that apparently made me royalty at Seneca International Academy. Free meals, access to exclusive study zones, even discounts at the campus bookstore. I shoved the card to the bottom of my backpack; the last thing I needed was to flaunt something I hadn't earned.

"So, you got a ride?" Latrell asked, leaning against the desk, his gaze lingering a little too long.

"Not exactly," I mumbled, shoving a copy of Divergent I borrowed in the library into my bag.

My parents had promised me a car if – and only if – I aced my driver's test. Problem was, finding time to practice with them constantly jetting off was about as likely as spotting a unicorn in the school cafeteria.

"How do you get around Seneca, then?" he pressed, a playful glint in his eyes.

Pride warred with honesty. Should I admit I relied on a combination of questionable taxis and the occasional sardine-can-packed bus? Not a chance. Not with Latrell watching, with that aura of effortless wealth and privilege that made me feel like I was perpetually showing up to a black-tie event in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Private car," I blurted out, the lie feeling like sandpaper on my tongue.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied. I hurried to catch up with the twins, their laughter echoing down the hallway. 

"Later, Jus!" they called out, disappearing into the sea of students.

I was almost to the exit when I felt a hand close around mine, the grip surprisingly strong. I turned to find Latrell "You're coming with me. End of discussion."

I stared at him, half-expecting a smirk to break through. "Just because we've hung out a few times doesn't make you my chauffeur," I retorted, trying to inject some steel into my voice.

"I'm not trying to be your chauffeur," he said, his gaze unwavering. "But living out on the edge of Seneca alone? That's practically asking for trouble."

My jaw dropped. "Hold up. How did you even know I live alone?"

He shrugged, nonchalant. "I have my ways. Wealth and power have their perks, you know."

Okay, that was kinda creepy. The idea of Latrell having "eyes and ears everywhere" sent a shiver down my spine. But then another, more thrilling thought took over: Latrell was interested in me. He was actually worried about my safety.

"Fine," I conceded, the word coming out softer than intended.

"Thank you," he replied with triumph in his voice.

Before I could protest further, he pulled me into a hug. It was swift and unexpected, his arms strong and secure around me. I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my chest, the scent of his cologne – something warm and spicy – filling my senses. He didn't seem to care that the classroom door was wide open, that curious eyes were probably watching us. The hug was... exhilarating. Unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

"Let's go," he said, finally releasing me.

He led me across the sprawling campus towards a car that could only be described as a masterpiece of engineering and excess. A cherry-red sports car, the kind that graced the covers of those ridiculously expensive car magazines my dad sometimes bought. Its paint gleamed under the afternoon sun.