When Bad Boys Fall

PenthouseWalls

"I hate him," I whispered into the darkness. "I absolutely hate him."

But as I said the words, I remembered the way he had looked at my lips. My heart was still thumping against my ribs in a wild way that I couldn't blame on anger alone.

I straightened my clothes and began the long walk back to my dorm. Every shadow on the campus paths seemed to hold Ethan’s piercing blue eyes.

When I finally reached my room, it was quiet. Taylor was out, probably at some party. I dropped my bag on the floor and walked straight to the mirror. I looked like a mess. My red hair was tangled. I grabbed the Partner Change form and stared at Ethan’s signature. It was sharp and jagged, just like him.

"You want me to earn it?" I muttered to the empty room. "Fine. I’ll earn it. And then I’ll make you regret ever meeting me."

I didn't go to sleep. I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands on the wall next to my head. I felt the heat of his body. Instead, I opened my laptop. If Ethan wanted research, I was going to give him the best research of his life.I spent hours digging through the university’s digital archives. I looked for things most students ignored. I stayed up until 3:00 a.m., my eyes burning, my fingers typing until they ached.

The next day was a blur of caffeine and nerves. I avoided the cafeteria and the common areas, terrified I’d run into Ethan before I was ready. I spent my French lab staring at the clock, watching the minutes tick down to 7:00 p.m.

By 6:45 p.m., I was standing outside the Elite apartments on the north side of campus. This was where the kids with trust funds lived. The building was made of glass and steel, with a lobby that looked like a boutique hotel.

I took a deep breath, holding my notebook to my chest.

"Don't be late," I told myself, checking my phone.

6:55 p.m.

I was five minutes early.I walked up to the front desk, my heart starting that familiar, annoying race.

"I'm here for Ethan Green," I told the receptionist.

She didn't even look up from her screen. "Level five. Penthouse B."

Penthouse. Of course he lived in a penthouse.

The elevator ride felt like it took an hour. When the doors opened, I found myself in a hallway with thick, plush carpet that muffled my footsteps. I reached Room B and stood before the heavy oak door.

I raised my hand to knock, then paused. I took one last breath, squared my shoulders, and knocked three times. Hard.

The door swung open almost instantly.

Ethan stood there.He was wearing a simple black T-shirt that stretched across his chest and his hair was messy, as if he’d been running his hands through it.

He looked at his watch, then back at me. "6:56," he noted, his voice smooth and low. "I see you’re capable of learning, Audrey."

"I'm here to work, Ethan. Nothing else," I said, stepping past him into the apartment before he could invite me in.

The place was huge. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over the city lights of Tulsa. It was cold, modern, and smelled like him; peppermint and something expensive.

"Then let's see what you’ve got, Red," he said, closing the door . He sat at a table and I sat across from him. He just pushed a piece of paper toward me.

"I’ve already outlined the first three sections. I’ll handle the research on the Civil War, and you can just... check for typos."

I looked at his outline.It was brilliant but it was arrogant. He hadn't asked for my input at all.

"No," I said, sliding the paper back.

Ethan paused, his pen hovering over his notebook. "Excuse me?"

"We are doing the research together. I’m better at analyzing the social impact of the era. You can handle the military dates," I said firmly. I opened my own laptop. "I’m not a secretary, Ethan. I’m your partner."

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "You’re stubborn."

"And you're a control freak. We have a lot in common," I countered.

For a second, the corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile. He stood up from his chair, stretched across the table, face only an inch apart from mine.

"Listen, Red. I have a 4.0 GPA to maintain. I don't trust anyone else with my grades.”

The air between us felt thick. Ethan’s eyes dropped to my lips for a split second before he pulled away, clearing his throat.

"Fine," he muttered, turning back to his screen. "Social impact. Write the first paragraph. Let’s see what you’ve got."

We worked in silence for an hour. The only sound was the clicking of keys and the turning of pages. I was halfway through a sentence when my phone buzzed on the table.

A message from Mark (Snack Bar).

“Hey Audrey! Hope your class went okay. I’m off work at 8. Want to grab a real coffee? My treat.”

I was wondering how he got to contact me and I didn't mean for Ethan to see it, but he was sitting right there. He glanced at the screen, then at me.

"Mark?" Ethan asked, his voice suddenly sharp. "The guy from the chip shop?"

"How do you know Mark?" I asked, surprised.

Ethan let out a cold, dry laugh. "Everyone knows Mark. He’s the nice guy of the campus. Is that your type? Simple and sweet?"

"He's nice to me, which is more than I can say for you," I said, grabbing my phone.

Ethan slammed his book shut. The sound was so loud.

"Focus on the project, Audrey. We aren't here to plan your date."