I stare at her in disbelief, not liking the way she’s looking at me: like I’m a cockroach or some other disgusting thing she just stepped in. What the hell could she possibly want from me, anyway? Deciding to play it cool, I clear my throat and ask, “Can I help you with something?”
She snorts, the corner of her mouth twitching in a sneer. “Help me?
That’s a laugh. No, you can’t help me, Nyx; I don’t need your help.”
I can feel my hackles going up, but the last thing I need is to let my mouth get away from me with a senior student. Biting the inside of my lip, I reply, “Then I guess I’m gonna have to ask you to excuse me. It’s late, and I’m still getting used to these hours.”
Hoping that will do the trick, I move to slide past her, but she steps easily to the left, blocking my path. “Ar
