What the hell? Beautiful enough to be with him?
I’d be damned if I let the same insecurities I had when I was a kid plague me again. Beautiful faces don’t affect me anymore. Well…to be honest, maybe a little. But it had been a long time since a gorgeous face had triggered me to wish I were someone else.
Getting physically and mentally bullied for my looks, my height, the fact that my family was very poor, and my mother running off with another man had made me feel insecure. It made me wish to be someone else, made me believe that if I were beautiful, maybe the world would be easier on me.
I knew better now. It made me wary of everyone, made me learn how to fight, made me defensive and combative.
So what was it about him?
I decided I didn’t like him.
In fact, I hoped I’d never see him again. I had no business thinking about a boy who wouldn’t pay attention to me anyway and that I normally wouldn’t pay attention to.
I was sure I wasn’t even a blip on his radar.
The girls in the hallway gave me a wide berth, throwing a nervous glance my way before turning the corner.
I rolled my eyes. I was having a moment here.
There must have been something in that lasagna. Or, if I was being honest with myself, the disappointing inability of my body to process dairy.
The instant I thought of it, my stomach began to cramp.
Oh shit.
Something was trying to bubble out of me.
And from the unearthly sounds my stomach was making, I knew I was going to suffer.
I knew it. I fucking knew it. And in my head, I knew I deserved it for being a greedy pig.
The line to the washroom was past the door. It was five minutes before classes started, and everyone wanted to do their business last minute.
Assholes. Everyone was an asshole. I would lock all the bathroom doors five minutes before the end of the world, so no one could use them. Later, I’d laugh at the ridiculousness of that. But it wasn’t later yet, and I was dead serious about it.
There was no other choice. I had to go to the third-floor bathroom. Correction, the third-floor fuck bathroom.
Students nicknamed it that because it was where couples go to…well, fuck. You had to climb three flights of stairs to get there and walk a whole floor, since it was located at the end of the corridor. No one in their right mind who needed to take a piss would take a long hike to get to that toilet.
No one but me.
“Oh fuck.”
A cramp so sharp I felt it in my soul. I grabbed the railing on the stairs, breathing heavily as I rested my clammy forehead on my arms.
You can make it. Steel, baby. You are made of steel.
I pushed away from the railing, tightened my butt muscles, and ran. I could hear my heavy footsteps echoing, felt the cold sweat trickling down my face.
I was wheezing by the time I reached the washroom door, losing my balance and almost sliding to the floor with my rush to get my butt to the toilet. I slammed open the first stall I could reach, fumbled the lock home, and let go.
Have you ever had to go so bad that you brace your arms against the stall walls, close your eyes tightly, and hold on for dear life as you moan like a pig and pushhh with all of your might…but only air comes out?
Yes, it was that kind.
I was in the middle of doing this when I heard the bathroom door open and then moaning and the rustling of clothes. It sounded like someone was going to get down and dirty, literally, on the bathroom floor.
“You feel so good, Cam,” I heard a sultry feminine voice purr.
Prrrrrrrrrrtttttttttt!
That was me passing gas. Blowing wind. Farting. Like a choo-choo train on Christmas.
Silence.
I heard more rustling, like they were putting their clothes back on, and then the door opening and closing.
Thank fuck they left.
I finished my business quickly, sprayed some perfume in the bathroom so the next poor soul wouldn’t have to deal with my stink. I washed my hands in the sink thoroughly, reapplied my lipstick, opened the door into the hallway, and froze in my tracks.
There he was with his piercing blue eyes and Lucifer black hair.
He was leaning against the wall across the bathroom, hot as hell and twice as dangerous. His arms were crossed in front of him, a lollipop in his mouth.
His eyes widened when he saw me. We just stood there for what seemed like forever, staring at each other.
Then…he grinned.
Chapter 4
Kara
My mind turned blank. Completely, blessedly blank.
It was like trying to watch a movie online and suddenly the screen turns into fuzzy images and text appears: Your brain is buffering 7%…
He was watching me with that beautiful crooked smile. As if he had all the time in the world, he shifted his shoulders lazily and pulled out the red lollipop from his mouth.
It was one of those flat, round lollipops they sold in the cafeteria, and I was surprised he liked them.
Deep, deep blue eyes focused on my face. I heard myself swallow.
Leisurely he opened his mouth and gently placed the lollipop there again, but instead of sucking on it, he trapped it between his teeth.
And bit.
Crunch.
There go my ovaries.
I saw that his tongue was stained red from the candy.
Soon, I thought, I was going to run out of saliva to swallow.
He finished the candy, flicking the stick in the trash can. I thought that his focus on me couldn’t get any more intense.
I was wrong. A wicked glint flickered in his eyes.
Uh-oh.
His first words to me were “Your wind was so strong it blew me away.”
I choked on air.
There was a cry like that of a trapped animal burning in the back of my throat. I was never the type of person to be rendered speechless. I always had something to say, but at that very moment, I wanted the sky to open wide and beam me to space.
His lips twitched. “You owe me one, Spitfire.”
Spitfire? I should say something. I knew there was a comeback floating somewhere in my brain, but where the hell was it?
Buffering 7.001%…
“What’s your name?” he asked, still watching me, still so focused on my face.
I gulped. I tried to speak. Nothing.
Now his eyes were laughing, those big, deep blue eyes crinkling at the corners. And then he looked down as if he couldn’t contain his amusement, brought his fist to his beautiful mouth, and… Was he biting his knuckle?
Oh Jesus. Why is that so sexy?
His eyes flicked up to mine.
I think I peed a little.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked teasingly.
Now if it were a different person who asked that or maybe if I just had my wits about me, I would have annihilated them and chopped them up for dinner.
But I did not. My batteries died, and I needed to recharge.
“Tell me.”
He seemed like a person who didn’t say please, and if he did, he would have been quite uncomfortable, but somehow I heard it in his voice.
Tell me your name. Please.
“K-Kara,” I stammered. My voice sounded weak. “Kara,” I repeated, strongly this time.
A pitiful attempt at getting back control.
My eyes felt wide open. Had I blinked yet?
I tried, but my lids wouldn’t cooperate. They just took him in, filing everything like a screenshot in my head.
The way his black hair glinted almost blue in the sunlight filtering in through the window behind him.
The way he tipped his head, with the black-blue strands silkily sliding to touch the side of h
is face and cover part of his eyes.
The way he was leaning against the wall…with just the right amount of recklessness.
He was tall. God, he was tall. Lean but muscular. Like a swimmer. His shoulders were wide, tapering down to a slim waist.
“And your number?” he asked.
This time, there was no please in his tone. It was as bold as brass. All confidence.
I told him.
His smile was wicked as he entered it into his phone. He looked like a little boy who had gotten away with something.
What was I doing? This wasn’t me. Someone had possessed my body. I had never given my number to a guy like this, but something about him compelled me to do it.
He’d sucked away all my powers from me. I had to get away. But my legs wouldn’t move. Traitors!
He pushed away from the wall, straightening. For a moment, I felt panic climb up my chest. Not because I was afraid of him. I was afraid of what I was going to do.
He started to walk closer, closer. But he wasn’t looking at me anymore, and I wondered if it was just a test. A game.
He kept walking, staring straight ahead. There was a small smile playing on his lips as he walked by me, inches away from where I was standing. My eyes closed involuntarily.
And then…I felt a light touch on the back of my hand. Featherlight, as if a butterfly’s wings were hovering near my skin.
My eyes opened. Holding my breath, I looked down. It was like watching something happen in slow motion. We stood side by side, facing different directions. Slowly, gently, the tip of his finger stroked mine, tracing the outline of it.
I felt his head lean down a little toward me, felt his body heat, smelled his masculine scent. Something that reminded me of the sea: deep, blue, and sensual.
And then he was gone.
Chapter 5
Kara
As soon as I got home from campus, I took off my shoes and made a beeline for the bathroom. But this time, it wasn’t to take a dump.
I sat in the empty bathtub, still fully clothed, chin on my knees, hands on my neck. I stared at the yellowed spots I couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard I scrubbed the surface of the tub and let my mind wander.
It was quiet except for the drip, drip, drip from the faucet. And if I really listened to it, I could hear the creepy grandmother clock in the living room ticking heavily. It needed to be adjusted again or, in my opinion, thrown out, but my dad loved to hoard junk—useful junk, according to him—so it stayed.
I should have asked my dad to fix these things, but I tried to make it as easy on him as I could because I knew how exhausted he was every day. In the back of my mind, I was thinking that if only my childhood friend Damon were here, the dripping and the heavy ticking would have been taken care of already. He was a pretty good handyman, among other things.
But he wasn’t here. His last text said he was somewhere in British Columbia. Doing only God knows what.
My eyes hesitantly traveled up from my feet to the other end of the tub, where I had placed my cell phone. It mocked me with its dark screen. I narrowed my eyes at it, like it was my archenemy.
I should turn it off.
Why didn’t I?
Was I actually waiting for him to call?
And oh God. He smelled my butt burp. My loud butt burp.
I slapped my face with my hands, covering most of my mouth, and screamed. Torture. This felt like torture. And to think that I was fantasizing about him just a few minutes before he saw me in the hallway outside of the bathroom…or heard me inside the bathroom…
Shit.
Why would he ask for my name? And my number? He couldn’t possibly be interested in me…right?
But the bigger question was why the hell did I give him both?
I thought of the way he’d asked for my name. Like a whisper. Like a secret he wanted to know. His voice held just a little hint of desperation.
Tell me.
Tell me your name. Please.
How could I have refused that?
I snapped my eyes shut. Why? Why did he want to know?
He had sounded so cocky by the time he’d asked for my number, so confident, so in charge. And why the hell not? He probably thought, This girl is easy.
Easy! Me? Easy? Ha! The thought made me itchy. I wanted to punch and kick something…preferably his gorgeous face.
Cam.
That was his name. I heard her say it.
And there was my answer.
I could have refused that because he was making out—scratch that—giving the dirty salami to his girlfriend in the fuck bathroom just a few minutes before he’d asked for my number.
So he thought he could cheat behind his girlfriend’s back with me, did he?
I gritted my teeth. That made me angry. Cheaters were on my blacklist. My mother was one after all. She ran away with a vacuum salesman, leaving my dad to raise two kids by himself. Good riddance, if you asked me.
I glanced at my socks and noticed my big toe poking through a small hole. These were my favorite cat socks. One more thing to add to his growing list of offenses.
I was feeling anger, and that was fine, but there was something else too.
Disappointment.
I leaned back, glaring up at the ceiling. A lot of idiots cheated on their partners. It wasn’t a surprise. So why was I disappointed that someone I had no idea even existed until today was a cheater?
Why?
I had never seen or heard of him before. Granted, it was a huge college, but someone as attractive as he is was bound to be one of the hot topics on campus. Also, I had taken more than a year off. Of course I wouldn’t be updated. Maybe he was a transfer student. Or a freshman. I shook my head at the absurdity of that. He wasn’t freshman material. He was huge. And tall.
I was taller than most people I know, but he was taller. That alone would’ve gotten my attention. It was like finding a beautiful pair of shoes in my size at the store. I was size eleven and stores almost never carried my size. So naturally I had to take a closer look. I had to check it out, touch it, try it on for size.
That was it! That was why I gave him my name and number. That was why I was disappointed. The shoes didn’t fit. Total huge disappointment.
Satisfied with my conclusion, I grabbed my phone and got out of the tub, ready to put it all behind me.
An image of him standing beside me, his head leaning closer to mine, his skin touching mine appeared in my mind.
My heart started to beat faster at the thought. Now I was angry not only at him, but also at myself for still thinking about him. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I refused to think about him for one more second, and if he disturbed my peace again, I would release the kraken.
I dare him to call me!
My phone rang.
“Sumbitchmotherfuck!” I screamed.
I scrubbed my face, gripped my hair. Was it him calling?
I thought for a second of throwing my phone, but then it might break. I still had a few months on this plan, and I wasn’t going to pay for repairs or a new phone.
He wasn’t worth it.
Heart hammering in my chest, I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see who was calling. I gripped it in my hand, letting it ring and vibrate for a second, savoring a kind of sick pleasure from my misery, taunting myself with the possibility that maybe it was him and maybe I would answer it.
And say what exactly?
Maybe I’d give him a piece of my mind, how about that?
Annoyed with myself, I opened my hand and let my phone slide to the sink before I stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind me. This is all his fault. That lying, cheating baboon.
The doorbell rang.
“For fuck’s sake.” I let out a loud breath and dragged my feet to the door. �
�Do I need to sell my soul to get some peace and serenity on this earth or what?”
I glanced at the clock. It was home time for my dad and brother.
If they forgot their keys again, I swear to God…
The permanent sour face of my uncle Andrew and the round, kind face of his wife, Charity, greeted me as I opened the door. The car shop was owned by Andrew and my dad, and the tiny two-bedroom house we lived in was behind it. Andrew loved to remind us how lucky we were that we didn’t have to pay him half the rent, since he co-owned the house with my dad.
And since, in his mind, this was his property, he could come and go whenever he wanted. He had asked my dad if he could have a key to our house in case of emergencies. I told my dad he’d find me in Salome Avenue working with Faye, a family friend who was a sex worker during the weekends. My dad didn’t give him a key.
Andrew settled his scrawny butt on one of the stylish chairs I had refurbished in our living room. His eyes were assessing as he scanned our house. Charity sat beside him.
I couldn’t boast about the size, and I might not be the most organized or cleanest person on the planet, but I knew how to spice up the place. Most everything we had was secondhand—stuff I’d picked up from Value Village or the Salvation Army that I’d revamped or repainted, hand-me-downs from relatives and friends. Stuff my dad picked up everywhere. But I was meticulous in choosing what stayed and what didn’t. Damon and my brother, Dylan, had to build a shed on the property for Dad to store all the junk he collected and thereby prevent me from murdering him.
“Why is it so hot in here?” Andrew complained. “It’s not even that cold outside. Do you know how much heating cost nowadays? Living here for free doesn’t mean you can waste, kid. Turn the heater off.”
What did he think I was, a cold-blooded mammal? I narrowed my eyes at him. And leaned against the wall. Defiantly.
When he realized I wasn’t going anywhere, he looked at me with a disapproving curl on his lip.
“Make us some coffee. A little hospitality won’t kill you,” he said.
He just said it was too hot in here.
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t know. I’d have to boil water using the kettle and electricity costs money. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Spitfire in Love Page 3
