by Quell T Fox
“Ah, there you are.” A hand slides around the small of my back causing a shiver to run up my spine. “And here I was, sure I would be stood up tonight.”
I take a step forward, putting some distance between us and breaking the contact—it’s too much. I pull out my phone to check the time. I hold it forward. “I’m right on time,” I say. I take a moment to look him over as he glances at my phone, that familiar smirk playing across his perfect lips. He’s dressed well above his years. A dark blue, very well fitted pair of suit pants, white dress shirt, and grey tie. He looks… delicious. Every inch of cloth hugs his body in a way that should be illegal. It’s distracting. My stomach does another roll and I do my best to ignore it, bringing my eyes back up to his.
His outfit makes me feel underdressed. I knew the restaurant was a nice one, but I didn’t think to get that dressed up. I mean, I’m dressed up enough but I should have done a little more. A pair of dark skinny jeans, with a loose, blood red, low cut blouse and a pair of matching heels just doesn’t match his level. It’s something Friday let me borrow and she has great taste, but I should’ve worn a dress.
“To be early is to be on time and being on time is being late. But to be late?”
“Don’t bother showing up?” I ask, finishing the quote as best as I can remember.
“Is to be forgotten.” He winks and offers his arm out. I cautiously link my arm around his and he pulls me closer to his side. “Shall we?”
As we get seated at our table—which was reserved for us because Castor made reservations—I wonder once again why I am here. Why did I unofficially agree to this? I’ve never been on a date before, never even thought about it. Yet here I am with someone I barely know.
“Shall I start you off with some wine?” The waiter asks with a smile. My eyes dart over to Castor who smiles slyly in return.
“Only the best. A bottle, please.”
My eyes go wide as the waiter bows out.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper, looking around the room tensely.
Castor just shrugs and takes a sip of his water, licking the corner of his mouth as he puts it down. “I know the owner.” I can’t seem to pull my eyes from his mouth… his perfect lips.
I don’t bother asking any more questions because I’m not sure I want to know the answers. Breaking rules is not something I like to do. Yes, I drink at parties, but there aren’t adults there, it won’t get a place of business shut down! This is right in the middle of a restaurant and he ordered wine like he’s been doing it for years. The repercussions of this seems too high.
The waiter comes back momentarily with a bottle of wine. He opens it like a pro and pours us each a glass, leaving the bottle in the center of the table. The waiter offers us an appetizer and Castor accepts; we then order our food. The waiter doesn’t use a pad to write anything down, keeping everything to memory. As he steps away, Castor picks up his wine, swirling it and then sipping. He motions to my own glass with his eyes. I hesitate before reaching for it, but I do. One glass. That’s it. Wine isn’t something I normally drink and I have no idea what it’ll do to me. I’m used to drinking light beer that’s just as well water with a dash of alcohol.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Castor says casually, bringing the wine to his lips. The waiter pops back over, smoothly placing down the appetizer onto the center of the table. Castor offers out his hand for my plate and I hand it over. He places a few scoops of calamari onto it before handing it back to me.
I wipe my mouth with the white cloth napkin after trying the calamari. I’ve never had it made this way before, and I am enjoying it. I’ll have to ask Callan if he knows how to make it this way. I’m sure he does. He can make anything. Literally anything. The sauce and peppers really bring out the flavor in the squid. I am, however, worried about making a mess because I’m clumsy. Dress me up, but you can’t take me out. A motto made for me.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, stabbing my fork into another piece. Cas has his elbows resting on the table, his hands folded together and resting on his chin. A dark smirk is resting on his lips. He hasn’t taken a bite of anything yet. In fact, his plate is clean and empty.
“Anything. Everything? Your parents. What are they like?”
“My parents are dead,” I say without hesitation.
“My apologies, I didn’t know.” His words are sincere but the smirk doesn’t leave his mouth. “You choose then, just tell me something.” He sits back, settling into his seat and getting more comfortable. I don’t answer right away, taking a moment to look at him. To really look at him. He doesn’t look like a seventeen-year-old. Though, he could be older. Maybe he’s eighteen. He could be nineteen, maybe he stayed back. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t place who it is. Some actor I saw in a movie once. Castor’s hair is dark and styled to the side, the same way it always is. If you threw a leather jacket and ripped pair of jeans on him, he’d look like a greaser. He has this intense air about him which never seems to go away. Even when he smiles, it’s like it’s laced with poison. Always looking like he knows something he wants to share but won’t.
I wonder how much I should tell him, if anything at all. I don’t like talking about my past with people I am close with, never mind people I barely know. I decide to go with a vague description of my life. The same watered-down version I give most people.
We get into chit-chat about school and a little about my family. He’s interested in my family, which could be a red flag, but at the same time maybe he isn’t used to Paranormals and he’s curious. He isn’t being rude about it, so I answer the questions he asks but only give the simplified version. I blame the wine for lowering my inhibitions and not caring about the million and one questions he’s asking. Without it, I’d probably have a bit more sass to my answers, but I’m shockingly obedient.
After eating our meal—we both got pasta dishes—he orders us a dessert to share. Which is freaking adorable. A fluttering in my chest makes me smile, but I suck up the nerves and enjoy it. It isn’t too hard; I am actually having a good time.
When we finish the brownie sundae, Castor pays the bill and walks me out with his warm hand planted on my lower back. The valet brings his car around and holds the door for me as Cas gets in the driver’s side. We don’t say much on the ride back to my house. I notice even though he isn’t familiar with this area, he doesn’t need the GPS to find my house. I keep a mental note of it, just in case.
Halfway back to my house I realize Lina never called me. Bitch. I’m not really mad though. She was right; I didn’t need saving from Castor. I thoroughly enjoyed this night and I hope she’s enjoying hers.
“Code?” he asks as we pull up.
“Nice try,” I say, gathering my things and preparing to open the door. “I appreciate your persistence, though.”
“Leona?” His voice is lower and huskier than it has been all night. My stomach does a somersault. I turn slowly to face him, my hand still bracing the car handle. “I had a great night tonight.”
I smile nervously. “Me too,” I say, pushing the door open the rest of the way.
This time I don’t hear the car pull away until I reach the front door of my house.
Chapter Eleven
Leona
It’s only on the following Tuesday that things change. For the better or worse… I’m not entirely sure yet. Only time will tell, I suppose.
“The full moon is in two days.”
I turn my head slowly in the direction that Castor is in. I’m not sure what his obsession with the moon is, but like many other things to do with the guys, it’s odd as hell. And that’s not the only thing. Surprise, surprise. We’ve both been acting like Friday didn’t happen. It hasn’t pushed us in one direction or the other with our relationship. We haven’t spoken one word about it either. It really is like we didn’t have a great night on Friday.
At first I was fine with not talking about it, my nerves getting the better of me. But the more time that goes
by, the more annoyed I get. Did he not have as good a night as he made it seem? I think of calling him out on it, but decide he isn’t worth my time. So I continue on the way we are. Spending lunch together and not speaking otherwise.
“What is your point?” I ask, getting tired of the moon talk.
“Planning on skipping school? We can join.”
“Why would I skip school?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve felt a headache coming on for a couple of days and I think today may finally be the day it strikes. The cafeteria is louder than usual and it’s getting to me. Honestly, the idea of skipping does sound kind of nice, but I’m not entirely sure I’m up for it.
When I look up to meet his eyes, his face is stone still, except for the minor twitch in his left eye. If I hadn’t been staring into his dark abyss of eyes, I’d have missed it.
“Just something we do at our old school,” Hunter adds—in his usual cocky tone—when Castor doesn’t respond to me.
“Well, I don’t skip. Ever. I actually care about school and my grades. I want to graduate with a good name, not just do the bare minimum to get by.”
“If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”
Do I though?
I mumble the words under my breath, almost positive they don’t hear me. They get up and make it over to their own table. If they did hear me, they don’t acknowledge it. No one does, since I am alone now. Lina is out today, something about not feeling well. I think she’s lying. She always misses school when she’s messing around with Eddie. Whatever. YOLO, right? Thorne looks back at me over his shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. I keep his gaze for a moment longer before looking away and poking at my food. I really should sit on the other side of the table so they aren’t in my direct view. I don’t have enough self-control to not look over to them. My body calls to them and I can’t ignore it.
But this isn’t the craziest part of my day. Nope. It’s the end of the day that really throws me for a loop. The part when I’m walking outside to my brother’s car. Normally I don’t drive to school, but since Lina didn’t come in, I needed a way to get here. I didn’t want my family to bring me and Lenny offered the car, so I accepted. I don’t like driving, but I figured I should get used to it. I’m going to be eighteen soon and driving is something I’ll need to do. I’ve had my license for a while but I’m still not entirely comfortable behind the wheel. I can’t rely on people to bring me places forever. Whatever fear I have over driving; I need to get over it.
I’d have seen him from a mile away, but it wouldn’t have made it any less confusing. Thorne is the biggest kid in school. It doesn’t feel right referring to him as a kid. I’d be better off comparing him to a pro wrestler.
A really sexy wrestler.
As I walk out of the school and turn in the direction of the parking lot, I see him standing by my car—Lenny’s car. It’s the furthest one away. I don’t have a spot in the lot, since I never drive. I thought of using Lina’s, but someone would get the wrong idea seeing a different car there. Someone did that once when I was a freshman. The kid walked out to his tires slashed.
He must be confused, or maybe he’s just interested in the car. It’s different from most cars around here. Most of the kids drive fancy cars, not something considered to be a collectible, such as the 69 ZL1 that my brother drives.
It’s got to be the car.
Definitely the car.
I try to take my time walking across the lot, but my feet have a mind of their own and I end up there rather quickly.
“Nice car you got here,” he says as I’m only a few feet from him and the car.
So he did know it was mine. Okay, cool.
“It’s my brother’s.”
“Your brother has good taste.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Sometimes.” Lie. Lenny is probably the most perfect brother imaginable. He has good taste all the time.
Except one time when he put marshmallows on his pizza and enjoyed it. It was not okay.
He turns his body towards me, resting an elbow on the roof—he towers over it—a lazy smile resting on his lips. “So, this brother of yours… How does he feel about his sister dating?”
Does he not know about my date with Castor? Or is he going old school on me by getting in good with my family?
“He doesn’t feel anything about it, since I don’t.”
Not usually, anyway. One date doesn’t count as dating, right? It was just a fluke. A one-time thing. I’m not planning on doing it again.
He doesn’t call me out on the date with Castor, so he must understand what I mean.
“I’d like to change that.”
I want to spit some cocky remark back at him, but I’m caught off guard by his words and the only thing that comes out of my mouth is “oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” He lets out a quiet laugh. “Friday night. Dinner and a movie. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
He winks before walking away, taking my breath with him. I stand there, dumbfounded, for quite some time. I finally shake myself out of it and by that time, Thorne is long gone. In fact, the parking lot is empty.
I take a deep breath and pull open the car door. I toss my backpack in and slide onto the driver’s seat.
This is not going to go over well with Lenny.
What is up with these guys demanding dates from me? And why do I let them? But Lord help me, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against the cool steering wheel. The chill on my skin grounds me; it always has. I take a few more breaths and sit up, pushing the key into the ignition.
I make a decision then. A decision that is probably going to kick me in the ass, but with these guys hanging around, it’s something that needs to be done. They have something on their mind and I’m too curious to ignore it.
Wednesday is almost as weird as Tuesday. I’ve gotten used to the guys interrupting my lunch by now, so I don’t put that under my list of weird things anymore. But when I show up to first period early and Hunter is already there, my stomach flips and I pause. He is never here this early. He looks up, his bright blue eyes shining in the morning light that floods through the window. He smiles a smile that is too beautiful for everyday life. He isn’t one who smiles often. Out of the three amigos, he is the quietest. The mysterious one, if you will. He doesn’t have a problem saying how he feels though, he speaks when he has something to say. I’ve found that out already.
“Good morning,” he greets too cheerily. I find my seat cautiously, wondering what he’s up to. We’re the only two people here right now; not even the teacher is in class yet. I got here early wanting to work on a paper that’s due at the end of the week. I was hoping for a quiet space to work on it alone.
“Good morning,” I return. “Why are you here so early?” On a normal day he walks in right as the bell is ringing. Never late though, not since the first day, but rarely anything that would be considered early.
“I was hoping to catch you alone. Seems it worked.”
“Oh?” I ask. Why oh continues to be my response to these guys, I have no idea. “And why would you need to see me alone?” I turn towards him with a confidence that quickly goes away the second his eyes meet mine. I get a good look at him, a real good look. With the windows behind me and the light shining directly on him, his beauty stands out. I know it may not be the right word to describe a male, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. His features are textbook perfect. Straight nose, sharp jaw, bright eyes… and trust me, the list does go on. Don’t get me started on his body. If he doesn’t model, he should. I can imagine him on the cover of a magazine in nothing but a pair of briefs and a smile.
“I was hoping you’d like to go out with me sometime.”
Is this a joke? is my first thought. Well, turns out it wasn’t just a thought. I said it out loud.
“I assure you this is no joke.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to speak out
loud.” I scratch my head, running my fingers through my hair and tucking it behind my ear.
His face is hard to read. He’s lost the smile, but he doesn’t look angry, maybe a little bored. Though after watching him for a few weeks now, I realize this is what he looks like on a normal basis. It’s part of the reason his smile is so breathtaking. You wouldn’t expect him to have such a gorgeous smile when he walks around with the male version of resting bitch face ninety-nine percent of the time.
“Why?” I ask.
“Normally, people choose to date to get to know one another. Usually, one has shown interest in possibly starting a more intimate relationship and hopes a date will push the other in the same direction. Most of the time it is due to physical attraction, but other times it’s something deeper.”
His use of the phrase “intimate relationship” has my mouth going dry and my head fuzzy. I also think I heard something in there about physical attraction, but I started to lose him after the intimate relationship part.
Intimate relationship… with him? Of the three of them, he is the one I have the hardest time imaging being intimate with. Not that I think about it often, but I have eyeballs. I have thought about it. The guys are gorgeous. But him, the way he has his walls up all the time—and I know he does because it takes one to know one—it’s hard to imagine how he would be in an intimate setting.
Cold as ice is all I can imagine.
He reminds me of David. Yes, it’s cliché but it isn’t just about the looks. He is god-like when it comes to physical aspects, but he’s also cold as stone. A hard casing to keep himself safe, chiseled into perfection.
Thorne, you can tell he’s sweet and gentle, though he has some abrasiveness to him. Castor is the dominating type, the one that’s in charge. Demanding, even. Those two I can read, but Hunter? Hunter is a hard nut to crack.
