I scramble to yank myself away from Mr. Gothic Fallen Angel, but he doesn’t let up. He clamps his arms tightly around my waist.
If anything, the moment Trey’s roar echoes down the concrete tunnel, a terrifying shift comes over the guy's face. Looking right past me, those mismatched eyes hook onto Trey, and the sight of my fake-boyfriend seems to fuel him up even more. His smile stretches wider, and the light falling on his unusually long, pointed canines makes him look straight-up like an evil vampire craving blood.
"Well, f**k me sideways with a flagpole and call me Larry," he purrs. "Is that really the legendary Goliath I see stomping down the hall?"
Goliath?! Why on earth is he calling Trey that? Is that some kind of infamous athletic nickname? And hold on… they know each other?!
"
