For some reason, as Harleen bounded down the stairs, she felt off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but somehow she knew that today would prove to be eventful to say the least. What she seemed to be worried about was whether or not the day would provide to be beneficial or dismal in every way. That bothered her, but she tried to ignore it as she ate breakfast – a bowl of Mini Wheats and a glass of orange juice. Edgar wasn’t around, and Harleen suspected that he was probably still asleep. Not that she was surprised by such a thing.
After quickly brushing her hair and teeth, Harleen grabbed her backpack and keys, and headed out the door before heading to school. Newport Harbor High School was only ten minutes, if that, from where she lived, so traffic wasn’t too bad, at least not yet. There was a church across the street – St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church – that allowed students to use their parking lot occasionally, which was pretty cool. Once Harleen found a parking spot, she turned off the ignition and allowed herself to relax again, trying to get her mind in the set of school.
Her first class was English, one that she had with Rosco. She smiled at that, loving the fact that she had at least one class with her boyfriend. Of course, Harleen and Rosco weren’t the kind of couple that engaged in lots of public displays of affection – it was rare for them to be seen holding hands – but if one looked at Harleen when she was looking at Rosco, public displays of affection weren’t needed. He was her eye candy when class got boring, and they could study together before a test. In a weird, twisted way, it was kind of romantic to be in a class together.
After another moment, Harleen grabbed a few books and got out of her car before heading to her first class a bit early. All of her friends didn’t have first periods, so there was really no reason to socialize or hang out with people she didn’t know that well, and to be honest, she really didn’t want to waste her time. She would be leaving in a couple of months, and she was already terrible at maintaining friends in the first place. Best to not engage in the beginnings of friendship only to drop it later.
However, upon entering the classroom, her mouth dropped. It was empty save for her teacher, Mrs. King, and a very familiar guy around her age. Andrew was there, and when he realized that Harleen had walked in, his mouth occupied that patented crooked smile.
“Hey Harleen,” Mrs. King, and there was a very slight hint of a Brooklyn accent in her tone. “Do you know Andrew King – not related of course – but I just thought it interesting we have the same name. Anyways, he transferred here from CDM.”
“Yes,” Harleen said, glancing over at Andrew before looking back at Mrs. King. “Yeah, we met. Apparently, he lives in the same neighborhood as I do.”
“Really?” Mrs. King asked, genuinely interested in this piece of information. “So you guys kind of know each other then? That’s great! I’m sure it makes it so much easier on Andrew to know someone that goes here. You know what…” Mrs. King’s brown eyes glanced at the layout of her classroom, a finger delicately caressing the tip of her pointed chin. “I think I’m going to move some things around so you guys can sit next to each other.”
“What?” Harleen asked sharply, her mouth dropping. “I mean, I highly doubt that’s necessary Mrs. King. Andrew doesn’t need” -
“Oh nonsense,” Mrs. King said, waving away Harleen’s argument with a nonchalant flick of her wrist. “Andrew, you don’t mind sitting next to Harleen, do you?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Andrew said, shaking his head so his dark hair fell even more into his face. He shot Harleen a triumphant smile when Mrs. King wasn’t looking as she grabbed her seating chart, and Harleen could do nothing but roll her eyes.
It was that damn accent, Harleen concluded. Only that accent got him what he wanted. What else could it possibly be?
You know, a voice in her mind pointed out, he’s actually quite decent looking in a bad boy way. And that smile of his is quite disarming…
Harleen scowled at her traitorous thoughts, and she decided to open her mouth again to try and talk Mrs. King out of her new seating arrangement, but the shrill of the bell cut her off. Harleen could do absolutely nothing but go over to her desk and sit down, Andrew following and grinning the entire way.
It took only a moment before the seats filled in with Harleen’s classmates, and as usual, Rosco was one of the last people inside. He didn’t even notice Andrew sitting on the other side of Harleen, actually. Rosco leaned down and brushed his lips gently across Harleen’s cheek before taking his seat and immediately glancing at the clock. Harleen had to suppress a smile. Typical Rosco. He gets into class and immediately wants to get out.
“Who are all of these people, exactly?” Andrew asked Harleen in a low murmur, his dark hazel eyes on her profile.
Harleen looked over at him as though he was crazy. “Are you kidding me?” she whispered back. “They’re your classmates.”
“Harleen,” Rosco said on the other side of her, as though he was suddenly paying attention to who his girlfriend was talking to. “Is the kid sitting next to you new or something? I haven’t seen him before in my life.”
“Uh, yup,” Harleen said, glancing over at her boyfriend from the corner of her eyes. “Yup, this is Andrew and he’s new.”
Rosco glanced over at Andrew with an even stare. Though Harleen couldn’t decode it, Rosco was shooting Andrew a warning with his eyes – Touch my girlfriend and I’ll kick the living shit out of you. Too bad Andrew didn’t seem to be taking the warning, though it was quite clear he understood what Rosco’s eyes were saying. Instead of flinching or looking scared in any way, Andrew seemed amused – his dark eyes sparkling, with a crooked smirk on his face.
“But we know each other Harley,” Andrew said, reaching over and squeezing Harleen’s shoulder just to piss off Rosco even further. “I’m surprised you haven’t even mentioned me to your boyfriend. It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong.”
“The fact that you’re touching my girlfriend’s shoulder constitutes as wrong, buddy,” Rosco snapped, narrowing his eyes in Andrew’s direction.
“Hey, I’m not your buddy, friend,” Andrew said in return, his voice low, cool, and collected.
“I swear,” Harleen’s boyfriend said, glaring at the hand still on Harleen’s shoulder, “that if you don’t take your hand off my girlfriend, you’re going to get a stump back.”
Andrew loved it when people threatened him, especially when people didn’t know who he was. “I’d like to see you try, Steroids,” he said, perking his brow. Andrew might not be able to tamper with free will, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know things. His smirk deepened when he saw Rosco pale slightly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Rosco is successful without the use of steroids, okay Andrew?” Harleen asked in a low murmur, glancing up at her. She tried to ignore the fact that his hand was still resting on her shoulder.
“Harleen, how do you know this guy anyways?” Rosco asked, his voice demanding rather than inquisitive.
“How about you don’t talk to her like that?” Andrew asked, furrowing his brow.
“Don’t tell me how to talk to my girlfriend, punk,” Rosco spat. “It’s none of your business.”
“Actually it is my business, because I don’t know if you know this but your girl belongs to me,” Andrew said, and then, just to add fuel to the fire, that crooked smile slipped onto his face.
Rosco’s temper couldn’t seem to take it anymore because he stood up, walked over to Andrew, and was about to punch him, when Andrew caught his fist with relative ease. Of course, everyone had seen Rosco’s attack, including Mrs. King, and before either of them knew it, both Andrew and Rosco were on their way to the principal’s office, with Harleen, still at her desk, hanging her head in utter embarrassment.
Chapter 7
Harleen tried not to think about the piles of homework she had when she walked through the front door a
fter school that day. Surprisingly enough, Edgar wasn’t home – at least from what she could tell – and she thought that maybe he was working or something along those lines. Yes, it might be a stretch but she could also hope, couldn’t she?
Then there was the matter of French. She had been taking French since her freshman year, and like someone completely and utterly insane, she decided to take AP French this year rather than French 4. To be honest, Harleen was barely hanging on. Top that off with math, English, and Biology, she felt like she was drowning. She needed a lifeline of some sort, but since she had yet to find one yet, she would have to keep treading the water.
The eighteen year old dropped her backpack in the living room and plopped on the couch, immediately situating herself in a lying position so she could relax her muscles and stare up at the ceiling. The day was interesting… to say the least. Andrew was only in her English class, and after his little stunt today, she highly doubted that that could be looked on as a good thing. At least not with Rosco in the same class as well.
It was insane, to say the least. She had never thought she would ever have two guys fighting over her – were they fighting over her? – and beforehand, she thought she would be flattered if such a thing were to have ever happened to her. But, if anything, she felt embarrassed.
And who the hell did Andrew think he was, saying that she was his? To her boyfriend no less!
Harleen would have corrected him after he said it, except that she was too shocked to say anything. Speaking of which, Andrew had called her Harley. Again. Did this guy have no personal boundaries? Was this what it was like with everyone, or was she just special?
And what was the thing about Rosco doing steroids? He wouldn’t, would he? Yes, Harleen knew that he was under a lot of pressure from his father and from the college scouts who wanted to draft him for football, but Rosco wouldn’t use steroids, would he? Before, her faith in him would have been indestructible, but now, thinking about the look on his face when Andrew brought it up…
How would Andrew even know about it anyway? That was the creepy part. Andrew seemed to know a lot more about people than he let on, and Harleen started to realize that that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Like, at all. But how could he possibly know about Rosco? Andrew and Rosco had never met before. It just didn’t make any sense, and no matter how hard Harleen tried to figure it out, she couldn’t come up with anything. It was frustrating.
Before she could think any more on the issue, the devil himself walked into the house. Andrew closed the door behind him and flashed Harleen what he thought was a rather disarming smile and sauntered over to her. He didn’t have a book bag or anything with him which meant it was probably in his car. Just what did he think he was doing here anyways?
“I can’t believe my uncle gave you a key to the house,” she muttered, and though her voice was low, Andrew clearly heard what she had said, and his smirk deepened. “Who knows what you would do if you were here by yourself?”
“I’d probably go up into your room and see if I can find your journal,” he deadpanned, his eyes sparkling enigmatically.
“I don’t keep a journal,” Harleen said with a roll of her eyes. She glanced over at him, and that was when she noticed the black bruise occupying Andrew’s left eye. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of it, and she sat up right in order to get a better look at it. When she realized she actually looked concerned for him, and he knew that she was concerned for him, she abruptly shut her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “This is all your fault, you know. Why did you have to egg Rosco on? He has a horrible temper, you know.”
“Most likely from all the steroids he does,” Andrew cracked, taking a seat in the armchair across from Harleen.
“He does not do steroids,” Harleen snapped. “I would know. I’m his girlfriend. He would tell me if he was doing something like that. I would know.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” Andrew asked seriously, arching a brow as he leaned forward and captured her eyes with his.
“How did you even get the black eye?” Harleen asked, changing the subject while avoiding the question. She motioned at it with her right hand. “I mean, you guys didn’t get into it in the classroom except for when Rosco tried to hit you.” She furrowed her brow. “But you blocked his punch. Did he jump you outside or something?”
“Something like that,” Andrew agreed, but wouldn’t go into it anymore. Truth be told, Rosco did jump him, but he was rather easy to fight. Besides being the king of the underworld, Andrew was skilled in fighting, and knew that if someone rushed into a fight with blind anger as their weapon of choice, it was a fight they would surely lose. However, Andrew did want Rosco to hit him once. He wanted Harleen to feel some sympathy towards him, and she was, just as he thought she would.
“Well, I’m sorry,” Harleen said in a way that told Andrew she didn’t want to apologize for it.
Andrew’s lips quirked up. “Thank you,” he said. “You know, life hasn’t been this bad since Paris…” He let his voice trail off and hid the smile that threatened to take over his features when he saw Harleen’s mouth drop open. Yes, he knew things, and he used his knowledge to his benefit – it never failed to work either.
“Paris?” Harleen asked in obvious disbelief. “You’ve been to Paris?”
“I lived there for four years,” Andrew explained. “I lived in Australia until fourth grade, then we moved to Paris. When we finally moved to the States, I started the divorce proceedings and that sort of thing.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Boring story. You don’t want to hear about it.”
Harleen found that she was quite interested in his life, but for the moment, she would have to set that aside. “Are you fluent?” she asked, her heart pounding against her chest. “In French, I mean. Are you fluent in French?”
Andrew, again, tried to hide his obvious delight at just how badly Harleen wanted him to answer with a yes. And he would, of course, because he was fluent, not only in French, but in every language and dialect on earth. He had to be. There were many people who were sentenced to Hell, and since there wasn’t a universal language, he had to be familiar with it all.
“Yes,” he said slowly, feigning intent thought. “Why?”
Harleen immediately looked away, her pride not liking the fact that she would be asking Andrew for help out of all people, but she wasn’t going to let her grades suffer because she couldn’t ask him a simple question.
“I’m taking AP French,” she explained, running her fingers through her hair. “I mean, I understand it. I can listen to Vanessa Paradis’ music and I understand what she’s saying. I can read French – that’s the easiest thing. It’s just hard for me to speak it. To hear someone say it and then speak to them in return. Especially when they’re speaking fast.”
Andrew arched a brow once again, simply staring in Harleen’s direction without saying anything for a long moment. He could distinctly hear Harleen’s heartbeat, waiting for him to say something, anything.
“Are you asking me to be your French tutor, Harley?” he asked her.
She didn’t even bother to correct him. “No,” she said, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
“That’s too bad,” Andrew said, standing up and striding over to the couch so he could take a seat next to Harleen. He looked at her with those calculating eyes. “Because I’d do it for free, you know. You wouldn’t have to pay me anything.”
“Why?” she asked, turning her head so she could lock eyes with him. It was then she realized just how close they were, but she tried hard to ignore that fact.
“So I can spend time with you without that boyfriend of yours,” Andrew told her, his voice coming out almost possessive of her.
Harleen refused to acknowledge that the way he spoke caused her to get all fluttery in her stomach. “Why do you like me?” she asked in a voice just about a whisper.
“It’s simple,” Andrew replied, his lips curving up into a crooked sm
ile. “You are mine.”
Harleen opened her mouth to refute such a claim when Edgar walked in, a pizza in his hand. She saw the distraction and jumped up, needing to get away from Andrew’s close proximity lest she give into his temptation.
Chapter 8
It was the next day, and Andrew wondered why he felt that Harleen’s soul was worth the seven hours of schooling that he didn’t even need. However, oddly enough, every time Andrew even thought of Harleen, his doubtful thoughts would vanish. She really did have an angelic face, which was such a difference when compared to the women that were usually housed in Hell. He wondered then what his followers would think of her. Not like it mattered or anything like that, but he wondered if they would like her. The women would be jealous – there was no doubt about that. Satan was suddenly getting married after an eternity of freedom, and Harleen didn’t know it, but she was going to be the lucky woman.
Flirting With the Devil Page 4
