Dirty English

“Focus. Let’s do this,” I snapped at Snake with a slap on the upper arm, and he turned back to face me, eyes wild.

My words spurred him into action.

He came at me again, both hands up and ready. With moves faster than I’d anticipated, he landed a strike to my spleen. I stumbled away from him to get my breath back. Fuck. No more trash-talking.

“Snake! Snake! Snake!” his friends chanted.

“Dir-ty Eng-lish! Dir-ty Eng-lish!” my side of the room called.

He inhaled a deep breath and flew at me, but I read his move and turned my body sideways and kicked out in a thrusting, snapping motion, the outside of my right foot aiming for his chest. He went down like a slow-moving boulder, arms splayed out and legs spread as he hit the ground.

He’d never had a chance with the girl distracting him, although I would have defeated him either way. She just made it quicker.

He moaned, and I knew he wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

I walked over to him. Checked his eyes, his breathing.

“You done?” I asked.

Glazed eyes looked up at me. “Yeah.”

I waved for Nick to come and call it. A slick guy who wore a three-piece suit each time I saw him, he’d been setting up street fights in North Carolina for the past two years.

I looked back at Snake. “Keep a watch on your head, and if you have any headaches, see a doctor.” It went unsaid that he’d have to lie about how he was injured. “And a word of advice, leave the girl at home next time.”

He groaned and turned away as one of his mates came over and helped him to his feet. They stumbled away from me and out the metal doors.

Trouble. That’s what girls were, right?

No way in hell would I ever let a girl distract me.

I took the cash Nick and Max counted out. This was all that mattered.

BY THE END of the first week of school I was back in the routine of going to class, working at the bookstore, and studying like crazy. I was off to a good start except I couldn’t stop thinking about Colby being at Whitman. I looked for him everywhere now. In the grocery. In the parking lot. Outside my door?

And then there was Karl and my mom. I’d tried to call and text her several times, but she was ignoring me, and I got it. She was angry because I’d gotten upset with her and Karl at the diner. She wanted to use my story to get rich, and no way was I down with that.

By Sunday night, chocolate ice cream and relaxing were the only two things on my mind when I got home from work.

And …

I readily admitted to myself I was jonesing for some English accents, so I kicked my shoes to the floor and snuggled into Granny’s couch for season two of Downton Abbey .

After eating a giant bowl of Ben & Jerry’s and indulging in two hours of television, I stepped out my balcony door and stood there taking in the soft rain that had begun to fall. I was getting wet, but I didn’t care.

Dressed in nothing but gym shorts, Declan stepped out onto his balcony. It seemed neither of us minded the weather. Like me, was he thinking of the last time it rained?

He flexed his hands, loosening the tape around them, his eyes out in the distance as if his thoughts were far away. He hadn’t noticed me, and I eased further back into the shadows, letting my gaze roam over his bare chest, hard biceps, and trim waist.

Why did one guy have to look so damn good?

Did he ever wear a shirt?

I sucked in a sharp breath as I noticed the bruises on his body, one on his shoulder, another on his ribs.

“I know you’re there,” he said.

Dammit, there was no escaping him.

He bent over against the railing, the muscles in his back rippling, eyes still on the horizon.

And I said nothing, anger pricking at me and I didn’t even know why.

But I did … we’d spent the night together—albeit platonically—and he’d had a week to knock on my door, and he hadn’t . He’d sat behind me in class all week but had mostly ignored me, sending eye-daggers my way when I joked around with Dax.

I didn’t understand him.

And yet I did.

Both of us were afraid of getting too close.

He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t blame you for being quiet. I guess you’re a wise girl to keep your distance.” He grunted. “Which is ironic because you’re the dangerous one, Elizabeth.”

Me? He was the one with the potential to break me into a million pieces.

He turned to face me, his eyes zeroing in on mine, and I realized I’d walked to the edge of my balcony to be closer to him. He took in my damp nightshirt and bare feet.

My nipples pressed against the material as if they too wanted to be near him.

“Dangerous? Please. You’re the one sporting new bruises,” I said.

He shot me a grin. “I like it when you get feisty.”

“I know.” My words were quiet, remembering the night in his apartment.

His gaze brushed over my breasts like a physical touch, desire plainly written on his face.

I swallowed, feeling the invisible wires that pulled me toward him. I threw caution to the wind.

“We slept together without having sex. Do you do that often?”

His eyes smoldered like molten steel. “Never.”

God, I wanted him. Desperately.

I clenched my fists. “Goodnight, Declan.”

“Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

“THE RESULTS ARE in, and I’m pleased to announce the prom king and queen are Colby Scott and Elizabeth Bennett,” Mr. Brown, Oakmont’s headmaster, announced from the gymnasium stage.