Chapter 77
Beck sneered, "Who are you? Let's hear it."
"Didn't that person tell you about me?" I took a small step back. "If you mess with me, you'll regret it."
"I'm so scared..." Beck scoffed. He reached out to grab my arm. "I'd like to see what happens if I mess with you."
Just as his hand was about to touch me, I suddenly lifted my foot and kicked hard at his knee. The moment he bent over in pain, I turned and ran toward where there were more people.
But how could a girl like me outrun several strong men?
I hadn't gotten far when someone grabbed my hair hard. My scalp felt like it was being torn apart, and the pain brought tears to my eyes.
I was forced to stop, surrounded by them. Someone reached to pull at my clothes, someone else held my arms tight. Despair washed over me instantly.
I thought I wouldn't escape this time.
Just then, a cool male voice suddenly came from behind, carrying a sharp coldness: "Let her go."
The men froze and turned to look. A guy in a simple white shirt and black pants stood not far away, tall and straight with clean features, though his face showed no expression.
"Who the hell are you? Mind your own business!" Beck flew into a rage. He let go of my hair and moved to teach him a lesson.
"What are you doing here?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an inexplicable authority.
The group clearly didn't take him seriously: "Mind your own business, or we'll beat you up too!"
"I've already called the police." He spoke calmly, waving his phone. The screen clearly showed the emergency call interface. "The police should be here in three minutes."
Beck and the others' faces changed. They exchanged glances—they just wanted to make money, not cause trouble.
"You're lucky!" Beck spat out a threat and ran off, cursing with his crew.
The crisis was over. I breathed a sigh of relief, only then realizing my back was soaked with cold sweat.
My head wasn't as foggy as before.
He picked up the book I'd accidentally dropped during the chaos and handed it to me.
"Thank you." I reached out to take the book, my fingertips accidentally brushing his hand. I pulled back like I'd been shocked.
He seemed a bit uncomfortable too, not looking at me as he spoke: "No need to thank me. Why would you get involved with these people?"
"I don't know. Maybe they saw I was a girl, easy to bully, so they..." I didn't want to talk more about it and changed the subject. "How did you happen to be here?"
"This area is close to the library. I was just heading there to borrow some books and saw you being bullied." He spoke lightly, his gaze falling on my messy hair. He paused, then added, "It's not safe here. Let me walk you to the school gate."
I didn't refuse. I nodded and walked alongside him.
"My name is Sophia. I'm an auditing student in the Computer Science department."
"I'm Sidney Lawson. You're in Computer Science, too?" Sidney seemed surprised. "What a coincidence. Which class are you in?"
I answered honestly: "I'm in Class 1."
"Me too, but why haven't I seen you in class?" Sidney was curious.
"I became famous in class as soon as I arrived. You really haven't seen me?"
Sidney and I compared notes and discovered that during the time I'd been coming to school, he'd been on leave.
The days he came back to class, I was on leave.
By chance, we'd never met.
Sidney showed a faint smile: "That really is a special kind of fate."
We walked and chatted.
Though he seemed cold, he was actually easy to get along with, answering every question without any impatience.
When we reached the school gate, I stopped: "Since we're both in Computer Science, if we have any questions in the future, we can discuss them."
Sidney nodded: "Of course."
I said goodbye to Sidney and was about to call a car when a pair of shiny leather shoes came into view.
"Sophia."
Hearing that voice, I felt inexplicably annoyed. I looked up at him coldly: "James, what are you doing here again?"
"Who was that person just now?"
"Who he is has nothing to do with you."
"Your relationship with him isn't simple."
I was speechless: "Why do you care so much about him and me?"
He was acting like a husband catching a cheating wife.
James said matter-of-factly: "Sophia, as long as we haven't divorced, you're still a married woman. I hope you'll keep your distance from these men."
I really didn't like what James was saying.
Whose fault was it that we still hadn't divorced?
And he wanted me to keep my distance from other men—had he kept his distance from other women?
My rebellious streak kicked in: "James, even if I'm dating someone, what's it to you? You're just my past. Mind your own business, or you'll age faster."
James laughed, his smile carrying a hint of danger.
I instinctively stepped back and tried to run, but he grabbed my legs, hoisted me up, and my head hung down. The blood rushed to my head, making my already dizzy head hurt even more.
"James, put me down!" I hit James hard with my book.
He slapped my butt and warned me in a low voice: "Don't shout."
Carrying a heavy air of jealousy, he roughly shoved me into the car. The car door slammed shut, leaving only my panicked, struggling, and heavy breathing in the cabin.
I knelt on the seat, reaching for the door on the other side, when my lower back was suddenly caught.
He leaned in, his long legs bent as he sat down, pulling me entirely onto his lap without allowing any protest.
I barely steadied myself, sitting slightly higher than him. Though I had the higher position, I was held firmly by the waist, unable to move.
He didn't speak. His jawline was tense and cold. He just looked up at me slightly, his eyes churning with lingering anger and an intense undercurrent.
His gaze slowly slid down from my brow, past my flustered eyes, my tense jaw, finally settling on my slightly parted lips.
His warm breath brushed my lips. His fingertips still gripped my waist, the pressure not light.
The air in the car was thick and hot. His gaze stuck to my lips like it carried a burning temperature, making my lips tingle. Even my struggles slowed down. My fingertips clutched his collar, turning white, and I forgot to push him away.
The moment James leaned in to kiss me, I turned my head away, only to have my chin caught.
His grip wasn't heavy; it didn't hurt, but I felt his hand was burning hot, and the spot where he held my chin felt scorched.
James's kiss fell on my lips, refusing to be denied.
The sound of saliva mixing and urgent swallowing filled the car.
I went from initial resistance to relaxing, my hand resting on his shoulder.