Page 42 of Under the Influence

“Nash, please get out of my way. Drayton is just here to pick me up. Leave him alone. I’m sure he’ll offer you the same courtesy,” I’m basically begging at this point because I don’t want to see Drayton get into a fight. Especially not because of me.

I glance back at Cori. Nash’s knuckles are white against the straps of his backpack from gripping them so tightly.

“You okay? You got a ride?” I ask Cori.

Dray grins, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, “We can give you a ride home if you⁠—”

“No,” Nash quips, grabbing Cori’s hand possessively.

She yanks it away, “You guys go, I’m good.” She glances at Nash, “I can get myself home.”

“Text me,” I remind Cori and slip into Drayton’s Jeep.

She nods, and I watch a few more unpleasant interactions between her and Nash in the side mirror before he finally stalks off.

“I’m glad you let me pick you up,” Dray acknowledges, sliding into his seat. My mind is still running a hundred miles an hour, trying to catch up with the whole Cori and Nash situation.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah. He’s just,” I trail off. “A piece of work.”

Drayton pushes my silver hair back out of my face, willing it to turn to him, “Don’t worry about him.”

“Oh, I’m not. He’s up to something, though. It makes my skin crawl.”

“With your friend?” he questions.

“With everyone. He’s the alpha Shark.”

Drayton laughs, “Is that even a thing?”

I shake my head, a smile forming on my lips. “I don’t know, but it’s a thing here at Legacy.”

“Sharks are actually pretty lone creatures,” he starts, pulling from the Legacy parking lot. “They typically hunt and travel alone.”

He makes me smile, “How do you know that? Are you a shark expert?”

His rigid jawline tips toward me, taking his eyes off the road, “Discovery channel is very informative.”

I bust out laughing, “I can’t picture you sitting at home watching shark week.”

“Oh yeah? What do you see me doing?”

I look at him, smiling, “I don’t know, just not that.”

“I think you’ll be surprised by a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? He must realize how cryptic that sounds because he circles back, “I mean. I’m not just a guy who can throw a ball into a glove.”

“Stop the car then,” I tease. “Because that’s exactly what I thought I was getting.”

He hides his smile, placing his hand on my thigh as we pull into what must be his driveway, and I can’t even focus on the house or where exactly we are because my leg is on fire from his touch.

“Is this your house?”

“Yeah, is that okay?” he questions, shifting the Jeep into park.

“I mean, yeah. Is it okay with your mom?”