My heart thunders in my chest. How do I want to handle the situation? I mean, I want to keep going about my day unnoticed, and if I put up a fight with this guy, that’ll draw attention. But his demanding attitude is annoying. It’s like he just expects me to do what he says, like everyone in this world does.

He’s like a male version of Dixie May, only more intense.

His irritation festers the longer I sit in the seat without moving. His jaw ticks, his eyes darken, and his muscles wind into tight knots.

“Trust me, new girl; you really don’t want to play this game with me,” he warns in a low tone.

“What game?” I carry his gaze. “I’m just sitting at a desk, trying to mind my own business.”

“At my desk,” he stresses. “Now get up and go find a seat somewhere else before I make you.”

My pulse spikes, but so does my stubbornness. When I was younger, my mom used to tell me that being stubborn would be a benefit and a curse. But she was wrong. It’s only been a curse. I wish I could get rid of it, but sometimes it creeps up on me without warning. Like when brooding guys get up in my face and threaten me.

Lifting a brow, I recline in the seat.

Surprise blazes in his eyes. It’s like no one has ever defied him before. It makes me feel both proud of myself and a bit nervous. But I conceal the latter. I’m good at that—concealing my emotions. Have been for the last almost six years.

His jaw ticks as he straightens. “Fine, you wanna play this way, then let’s play.”

I hold my breath, waiting for him to jerk me out of the seat or something. Instead, he turns around and drops into the seat in front of me.

“You just destroyed your chances of making it here, new girl,” he warns, throwing me a dirty look from over his shoulder.

“Awesome. I didn’t have a chance anyway.” I move to put my earbud back in.

“Hey, Mr. M.” The blond guy from the office this morning strolls into the classroom, smiling at the teacher.

The teacher glances up from the papers. “Hey, Hunter. Are you excited for tryouts?”

So his name is Hunter, and I’m guessing he plays some sort of sport.

I crinkle my nose. Jocks are usually the worst. At least, they were at my old school. But Hunter doesn’t look like the jocks at my last school.

Maybe he plays chess or is in the math league.

A smile tugs at my lips at the amusing thought.

At that exact moment, Hunter glances in my direction. I’m sure I look like a freak with a stupid grin on my face.

A smile appears on his lips. “Hey—”

I stuff my earbud into my ear.

Shaking his head and grinning, he starts down the aisle, his grin quickly dissipating as his gaze settles on the guy in front of me. His gaze dances from me to the guy, then his lips move.