The Walls Of Troy Part 14

"Yeah, but don't worry. He won't copy off your paper."

I chuckled. "Well, that's promising."

Troy glanced at him, then me. "Do you mind him staying in here?"

"Uh." I threw a wary look toward the dog. "It is his house."

Troy smiled. "You really haven't warmed up to him yet, have you?"

"I don't see it happening any time soon. Nothing against him, but..." I shook my head.

"Not a fan of big dogs?"

I swallowed. "Not a fan of any dogs, actually."

"Really? Any particular reason?"

Leaning forward, I pushed my hair back a little-d.a.m.n, it was still weird to have it this long-to expose part of my forehead, right up by the hairline. "See that scar?"

He stepped closer, brow furrowed, then nodded. "Yeah."

I lowered my hand. "A neighbor's dog attacked me when I was like two. I don't remember it, but my mom said I was fine with dogs until that happened. Been terrified of them ever since."

"Looks like he took a h.e.l.l of a bite out of you."

"You could say that."

"I guess I can see why dogs aren't high on your list." He pulled up his sleeve, revealing a thin, silvery line. "My grandma's cat did that when I was eight."

"Does this mean you don't like cats?"

"I like cats just fine. But f.u.c.k Siamese."

I laughed. "I can't argue with that. Siamese are d.i.c.ks as a general rule."

Troy laughed too. "They are, aren't they?"

"I think it's a requirement for the breed. Aside from Siamese, though, I'm definitely a cat person."

"Cats are all right, but I love my dogs." He snapped his fingers, and Talos immediately got up and trotted to his side. "And this one? He's protective, but he's really just a big teddy bear." Troy wrapped his arms around the dog's thick neck and kissed the top of his head. "Aren't you, buddy?"

I swallowed. Just the thought of having my face that close to those jaws was enough to make me shudder.

And I realized Troy was watching me. As he sat up, petting the dog, he said, "I can send him downstairs if you're more comfortable."

"No, that's okay." I gave Talos another look and shook my head. "I'll get used to him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I held his gaze. "Seems like you're more comfortable when he's around."

Troy's cheeks colored, and he avoided my eyes. "Kind of stupid, I guess."

"Not really." I played with the corner of my notebook. "You're nervous enough to need a bodyguard to go to school. If having Talos nearby helps too, then by all means."

"Even if he makes you nervous?"

We locked eyes.

He's not the one who...

I swallowed. "Yeah. It's fine."

He watched me, then, "Talos, go lie down." He pointed toward the bed on the other side of the room and snapped his fingers. Obediently, Talos got up, lumbered over, and settled on the floor beside the bed. Troy turned to me. "Better?"

I laughed. "Yeah, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

We opened our textbooks and notebooks but had barely started going over the text before I lifted my head to say something and...

And completely forgot what it was.

He met my gaze from across the table, and in this light, the eyeliner f.u.c.ked with my brain. As if I needed anything to draw my attention to Troy's face, to the way the lights played on those intense blue eyes, the eyeliner may as well have said focus right here, Iskander.

And suddenly I wanted to know what his mouth tasted like. And how warm his body was. And how fast his heart was beating.

This was so wrong. So unprofessional.

And impossible to resist.

f.u.c.k. What was I thinking? I was supposed to be focused on keeping him safe and pa.s.sing this cla.s.s, and all I could think was that Troy was f.u.c.king gorgeous.

Studying with him was a terrible, terrible idea. I was better off risking an F on the exam.

Abruptly, he cleared his throat and s.h.i.+fted his weight, the chair creaking quietly as he did. "Right. So. What chapters are we supposed to be studying again?"

"He said the exam covers fourteen through"-my G.o.d, you have beautiful eyes-"uh, twenty-two."

"Yeah."

"Okay. So, read them over, and then we'll compare notes?"

"Sounds like a plan."

We both focused on our books. To my surprise, I was able to focus enough to at least get the gist of what was on the page. When I wasn't stealing surrept.i.tious glances at him, anyway. I supposed as long as I understood the text, it wasn't the end of the world if I was also aware of his long, nimble fingers idly flipping a pen over and over while he read. There was no reason I couldn't comprehend the principles of photosynthesis and ponder the curve of his neck.

Really, Iskander? Good G.o.d...

As I was finis.h.i.+ng up chapter fifteen, Troy laid his pen across his book and looked at me. "Okay, I have a question." His expression was intent, focused right on me, and somehow I doubted his question had anything to do with chlorophyll or solar energy.

Oh Lord...

"Shoot."

"So the therapist was your idea. Dad said you thought I had PTSD."

I nodded.

"And you were right." He studied me, eyes narrowing a little. "Out of curiosity, how did you know?"

"You broke out in a sweat after someone dropped a stack of books, and had a panic attack that looked an awful lot like a flashback after we walked through a crowd." I inclined my head. "What was I supposed to think?"

"That I was jumpy, I guess." He shook his head. "I don't know. Most people don't seem to notice." He laughed bitterly. "I actually had one of those around my mom a couple of months ago. One of the ones like at the festival, where everything just..." He shuddered, then shook himself and looked at me through his lashes. "She thought I faked it."

"Faked it?" I stared at him with wide eyes. "Why the h.e.l.l would you fake something like that?"

His eyebrow arched in "really, dude?" fas.h.i.+on. "Why would I insist on a bodyguard and security detail I don't actually need? Attention, obviously. That's what Fowler thinks. I think the only reason he puts any effort into this job at all is to kiss my dad's a.s.s."

By all rights, I should have insisted that my fellow master-at-arms had the entire family's best interest at the forefront of his mind, but given how he'd rolled his eyes at most of the concerns for Troy's safety, I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"You've given a s.h.i.+t from the beginning, though," he said, his tone softer.

"Of course I have."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"It's what I'm here for."

"I know. But you're different from the others." Troy lifted his hand, and I didn't realize what he was doing until a second too late, when his hand came to rest on the back of my arm. Across the table that I could've sworn was wider than this, our eyes met. "You're the only one who hasn't thought I was crazy."

"Your dad doesn't think you are."

"He's just overprotective. Always has been. He drove me to school for a year after I told him someone on the school bus was teasing me."

"Still, I think he's taking this seriously."

"I know he is."

"And no, I still don't think you're crazy." Though I knew I was crossing another line, I put my hand on top of his on my arm. "I've never thought you were crazy. I'm just worried about you." I swallowed hard, lowering my gaze to my arm, his hand, and my hand. "And the thing I'm worried about the most"-besides what the f.u.c.k we're doing right now-"is that I can't protect you."

"You're the only one who's even tried."

We locked eyes again, and then slowly lowered our gazes to the complicated mess we'd made out of platonic contact in the middle of the table.

"We shouldn't do this," I whispered.

"I know."

He didn't pull away. I didn't pull away.

G.o.ddammit, don't make me be the adult here. I don't think I can. Not when I want- I withdrew my hand and leaned back. "We really shouldn't."

He sighed, drawing away too. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We just..."

Can't. Shouldn't. Need to.

"I should, uh..." I cleared my throat. "I should probably go."

"Yeah." He shook his head and closed his textbook. "I guess we're not getting much work done, are we?"

"Not really." Meeting his eyes, I added without thinking, "I don't see that changing tonight."

He gulped.

s.h.i.+t. I wasn't imagining any of this, was I?

Somehow I found the presence of mind to slide my books and notebook back into my bag, and we both got up.

"I'll, um, see you Monday?"

"Yeah. Yeah. See you then."

I headed for the door and got as far as putting my hand on the doork.n.o.b before- "Iskander, wait."

d.a.m.n it. Don't. Don't wait. Go!

There was nothing but a single door standing between us and common sense. All I had to do was reach behind me, turn the doork.n.o.b, and the barrier would be gone. This dangerous privacy would evaporate.

But I didn't. I faced him, and my shoulder blades brushed the door, and my eyes were locked on his, and even though I should have been anywhere but here, I planted my feet.

He took a deep breath and came a little closer. "I don't want you to go."

"Do you really think we'll get any studying done if I stay?"

"No." He said it so bluntly, so matter-of-factly, my breath caught. "Studying has nothing to do with why I want you to stay."

"But you probably know as well as I do why I should leave."

"Yeah. I do." He came even closer, pus.h.i.+ng all the oxygen out of the room. "Doesn't change the fact that..." He closed his eyes for a moment, then met mine again. "Look, I know it's a bad idea. Believe me, I do. But I saw the way you looked at me yesterday. At the range."

s.h.i.+t. Busted.

"And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it," he said, almost whispering. "I can't stop thinking about you." He laced his fingers between mine, and my heart sped up, especially as he added, "I don't want to stop thinking about you."

Against all my training, sense, and professionalism, my fingers curled between his. "Troy, we..."