Trying not to drop my lunch, I grabbed her hand and trapped it against my chest.
“You don’t get to buy me, Hudson,” she yelled. I could tell she was pissed. But dammit, she looked cute angry. Those flushed cheeks and heaving chest started to make my cock strain against my jeans. She tried and failed to pull her hand from mine.
“I think I can more than afford you, baby,” I purred in my most seductive voice. I realized I might have gone too far when I heard her gasp and then rear back as if I had just slapped her.
She yanked her hand back from where it was still holding the ten to my chest. Still clutching the money, she smacked it on the counter next to the register. You could have heard a pin drop while the very uncomfortable clerk rang up our lunches. Synclair turned away from the counter and for a moment, I thought she was going to cry. Feeling like a major ass, I was about to apologize, when she whirled back to me and dumped her entire bowl of navy bean soup onto my head. Jumping from the heat of the soup, my tray dropped to the floor, sloshing food up to the bottoms of my jeans. Screeching like an Owl, I jumped when she continued her assault with her sandwich. She didn’t just throw it at me, no, not Synclair; the bitch actually opened up each cut half and took out the meat and cheese and threw them at my chest. Stunned, I just stared at her. Never in my life, had I seen anyone look at me with such disgust. I heard the snickers all around us; I felt the eyes of everyone in that cafeteria on me.
“Enjoy your purchase Hudson, you asshole,” she shouted as she ran from the room.
Embarrassed, humiliated and wanting vengeance, I stomped back to the table where my friends were sitting, apparently stunned into silence as well. I knew I looked awful, I felt the soup running down my back and dripping from my hair, the cheese was clinging to my tee-shirt, and the meat from her sandwich was so high up on my chest, I could smell it.
I slammed my hands on the table. Amber went to get up, probably to comfort me, but one raised hand stopped her. I looked directly a Ron. “$500, Synclair in my bed by the March Madness Rally; the game is fucking on,” I announced to everyone at the table. No one said a word. I turned and stomped out toward my dorm room. I needed a shower, then I needed a plan; Synclair was going down, and I was going to be the one putting her on her back to get here there.
Synclair
What the hell did I just do? You just poured navy bean soup on the head of the school basketball star, in front of the whole cafeteria. Shit. Normal people do not pour soup on others. Yeah, well he was offering to buy you, like a whore. I agreed with my inner self; I had promised myself I would never be bought. Never. That was my mother’s deal, not mine, and I was never going to be like her.
It made my blood boil when I thought of how smug he was. How he just threw his money and charm around like he was better than everyone else. He didn’t even apologize for what happened outside Lit class. He just assumed that because he had his hands on me, once, that I would welcome them again. Well, Reece was in for a surprise; I was not one of his groupies, and I had more important things to do than entertain a spoiled, arrogant, wealthy kid. Although, that rich kid’s chest felt pretty 8-pack solid under your hand today. Ignoring the clamoring from my traitorous girly parts, I made for the library.
Reece
Showered and no longer smelling of lunchmeat, I stalked my prey. Yes, my prey. I was a stealth lion hunting Synclair as if she were a weak, gazelle on the Serengeti. Okay, maybe not so dramatic, but I was following her. I was on my way to her dorm to start phase one of my plan, when I saw her leave her building. After following her for a few blocks, I was beginning to wonder where she was going this far from campus. However, watching the sway of those hips, and the fullness of her ass in those shorts she was wearing, was not a hardship.
Thinking over my strategy, I knew one thing. I had to be persistent. She was attracted to me, there was no way I was wrong about that. I had heard the hitch in her voice when she was looking me over. No matter how much her mind hated me; her body liked me just fine. Therefore, that’s where I would start. First, I had to get her to stay in the same room with me long enough to put some of my classic moves on her. Once I got her body to respond to me, I was sure it would tell her mind to shut up. Besides, the bet was all about sex, I wasn’t going to love her; this was about putting that woman in check. Bullshit, you like this woman; she's feisty and isn’t like everyone else, and you’re an ass for this bet.
Sighing, I ignored my conscience and followed Synclair into the public library. I made sure I walked in about five minutes after she did. As I entered through the doors, I immediately looked around for where she could be. I walked through the Internet café and back toward the adult side of the library. I was walking past the children’s section when I heard a small voice call her name.
“Syn, I wanna hear the dragon story again.”
“Yeah, me too, can I turn the pages?” another child’s voice squealed.
Following the sounds, I came to a small table with about six children seated around it and behind the stood their smiling parents, holding jackets and what appeared to be walking sticks. The kind used by the blind to navigate places. It reminded me of all the times my mom had taken me to our community library in Carson City. My older brother Lucas and I would race to see who could sit closest to the librarian, Mrs. Dugan told the best stories. Most times, mom would come along with my younger brothers Matt and Dalton and sit in the back of the room, letting the little beasts play with Legos that she brought. It was a great memory from my childhood and I was floored to see a similar scene here. However, instead of Mrs. Dugan, it was Synclair that was surrounded by a bunch of excited children. No way, maybe she’s going to eat them? Maybe these parents don’t know how evil she is when it comes to innocent foods like soup and lunchmeat. Okay, I was being a little over dramatic, I shrugged off my mood and turned my body so that I was hidden behind a row of books, but still had a great view of the small area.
Synclair was seated in the only adult chair at the table, her back to me. That just wasn’t going to cut it. As stealthily as I could, I moved to aisle on the opposite side, so I could see her face without her knowing I was there.
She was beautiful. Unlike Amber and most of the girls I knew, she didn’t seem to care about her looks. She didn’t have a stitch of make-up on; her hazel eyes looked happy, and her hair was curly and free, falling below her shoulders. I found myself wanting to kiss every freckle on her nose and cheeks. She was laughing with the children, and I found myself rubbing an ache I had in my chest. She reads stories to blind children? Looking around the table, I realized they were all blind children.
Now, I really felt like an asshole. The tough, edgy, mouthy, somewhat volatile, Synclair Patrick read to blind children. Yeah, your mama will love her! For the first time since I made the bet, I regretted it. Wait, scratch that, your mama will love her and whip your butt, and then pop will come right behind her with an epic lecture! Groaning, I scrubbed my hands over my face. My mother would have my hide if she ever found out I had bet on a girl’s virtue. What could I do? I didn’t want to lose face in front the whole school, I be the laughing stock, I’d never live it down! Still, she had rejected me, humiliated me, and walked around like she was too much of badass to bother with anyone at school. Now more than ever I wanted to know this complicated woman!
It was obvious there was more to Synclair than anyone knew. We all took her quiet behavior in class to mean she was anti-social. Even so, this clearly proved that idea wrong. Could it be she was shy? Perchance, she wasn’t a bitch. Maybe, she was just guarded.
I regarded my options as I watched the woman I could not seem to get a read on, engage, laugh and read to a group of kids that were enchanted by her, just as I was quickly becoming.
Synclair
“As always, Syn, you were amazing; Charlie loves you,” Mrs. Powell told me ruffling her son, Charlie’s, hair.
I smiled and gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek. For blind kids, affection was critical; the
y couldn’t see your face to gauge your expression. A part of me wanted to ask Mrs. Powell to call me Synclair and not Syn. However, the kids all knew me as Syn, and explaining why I wanted the change didn’t seem like a conversation to have with six-year-olds at Storytime.
“Thanks, Mrs. Powell, I’ll see you guys next week,” I announced. I walked from each to child, making sure to touch their cheek with my hand, and gave them all kisses goodbye.
I loved this gig. Going to the library had been an enormous escape for me. Mom and I moved hotels so often that I often found myself not wanting to go home afterschool. Sure, I could go to Max’s restaurant, and I did. However, I didn’t want to over stay my welcome there, so sometimes I would come to the library after school or on the weekends.
Let’s face it, the library was free, safe, air-conditioned, and anything I wanted to read about was at my fingertips. I was always here on the weekends, from the time they opened until they closed around ten at night. I didn’t have many places where I could stop looking over my shoulder and feel safe.
God knows that I never felt safe in the various motels with my mother. Nothing was creepier then the parade of boyfriends she shuffled in and out of our lives. When I was younger, she would have me sit in the bathroom and color while the shower was running, so I wouldn’t hear her “working” in the next room. As I got older, the men started offering her extra money to have me join them. Needless to say, I made sure I found somewhere else to go when mom was “earning the roof over my head,” as she often called it. Yeah, we can’t all have ponies and rainbows for childhoods, although I would have settled stable roof over my head, three meals a day, and the occasion hug from a mother that was sober. Okay, I’m done whining, I needed to remember that I wasn’t going to live like that anymore. The University was my chance for a better life and I was going to make the most of it.
Therefore, the library had not only offered a safe escape from my life, but since I was avid reader, I was able to excel all my school subjects. I was here so often that the librarian asked me if I could take over Storytime. Apparently, the woman who normally did it moved out of state. They couldn’t pay me, but I didn’t care. When I found out the kids were blind, I was terrified. I read all the books I could find on engaging with blind children. I’ve been doing it for the last six months and every time I left, I felt good.
The kids were amazing. They were happy, engaging and trusting. They just assumed I was a good person because I read them stories about dragons and knights. They were untouched by the cruel world around them, even though they couldn’t see, they adapted like heroes. It was incredible. It made me realize that no matter how bad you think you have it, someone out there has it worse.
I was still smiling when I walked out the library doors and into a brick wall. Looking up, I realized the wall was Reece Hudson’s chest. I froze; he looked angry.
Oh god, was he going to try to embarrass me in front of the kids who were just starting to exit the library with their parents? Worse, was he going to attack me physically for what I did in the cafeteria? Shit, I knew men couldn’t be trusted. Why did I assume I was safe because he was a student? An angry man is a dangerous man; you know that! You’ve seen the evidence on your mother’s face. Stupid, Stupid, you didn’t notice him following you? Protect the kids, they can’t suffer for your stupidity!
I tried to ignore the panic as his angry green eyes bore into my hazel ones. I gulped. Sure, I could probably get in a few good shots before he landed one, but these innocent kids had never heard the kind of violence that happened between an angry man and a woman.
Run Synclair, you dolt! You embarrassed the star player in front of the whole Student Union, and he outweighs you by at least 50 pounds of stacked muscle! Deciding to listen to myself, I took a hurried step to the left but he moved right with me.
I looked over my shoulder as some of the parents and kids were beginning to descend the stairs right behind me.
Desperate, I stammered, “Please… w-w-whatever you’re going to do to me, not here, not in front of these kids please,” God, I sounded weak; I sounded frightened. Nevertheless, I was not above begging if it saved these children from witnessing violence. Even if they were blind, they would hear it. I knew better than anyone that, not seeing, someone hit didn’t stop the sounds of fists hitting flesh. I was going to spare these kids that, even if I had to beg Reece Hudson on my hands and knees. Normally, I wouldn’t be afraid. I was a pretty good scrapper; I had taken kickboxing classes at the women’s shelter so I could handle myself. However, I didn’t want these kids anywhere near that kind of violence. If he wanted to try to take me down, he would have to wait until we were away from the library. Then, I would gladly rip his arms off and beat him with them, fifty pounds of muscle, be damned!
His face went from anger to confusion, then something else I couldn’t read. He stepped back from me, cocked his head to the side, and just stared. I hated being weak; I hated feeling powerless. I couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, so I found a spot on my red, Adidas tennis shoes and focused.
Strong, yet surprisingly gentle, fingers grabbed my chin and lifted. I looked into his green eyes, defiant; I tried to prepare myself for whatever his next move was.
“You think I would hit you?” he asked shaking his head in disbelief. Looking at his face, I could see he was offended. He had so many emotions that crossed his face that I just stared in fascination. He was confused, then upset, then sad, and finally he stopped on…Pity! Damn, my vision began to blur into a red haze.
Pity pissed me off. I didn’t need his pity. He didn’t know me, didn’t know my life. He could take his pity and shove it. Pushing his hand away from my face, I stomped off.
“Syn, baby wait,” He called as he caught up to me.
I froze. Syn? Baby? Now he was calling me by my street name? And baby? The same phrase my mother would use every time she wanted something? Drugs, money, cab fare; baby, never meant anything good.
I turned toward Reece, trying to decide if I should break his nose or his balls. Calm, remember, you can’t throw down and fight everyone; that's what Syn would do. Okay, I had a point, no fighting, even if the asshole really deserved it.
“Don’t,” I poked him in the chest. “Ever call me Syn, ever.” I poked him again, so much for no violence. Damn, I need to work on that. “Especially, don’t call me baby, I am not a baby! If you call me baby again, I swear I will end you, Reece Hudson!” I realized we were so close that if I tilted my head back just a bit, I could kiss him. Whoa? What the hell?
Jumping back another step, I tried to get my body under control. I was not going to let some lame attraction make me forget who I was. I don’t date; I don’t trust men, and I certainly don’t trust players.
He just stared at me. He looked like he was trying to figure something out. Odd, he seemed to do that a lot around me. I was about to turn away he spoke.
“You want tacos?” He rushed out.
Stunned, I could only stare at him. Did I black out? Had I missed something? Tacos?
“What?” I must have looked confused, because he smiled, grabbed my elbow and started walking me back toward campus.
“Yeah, there’s a great taco place, right by campus. I want to buy you lunch Synclair,” he spoke as if we were old friends. As if I hadn’t tried my best to avoid him, like, I had never thrown my soup on his head. Was he mental?
“You bought me lunch today, remember?” I asked. Maybe he took medication? Jesus, who would I call if he had a total mental episode?
I was trying to work that out when he stopped walking. He turned me toward him, and those smiling green eyes swallowed me up and almost swayed toward him.
“I bought you lunch and ended up wearing it because I was an ass. I’d like the chance to buy you lunch! Hopefully, I’ll end up eating some of it!” He laughed and despite myself, I smiled. His laugh was deep and it helped calm some of my panic from earlier.
Bending so we were eye level, he smiled that beautif
ul, dimpled grin, “This time, I am asking. Can I buy you lunch, Synclair?" I searched his face for the joke that I knew had to be there. However, his eyes and face told me he was sincere.
Was Reece Hudson apologizing? Was he asking me out on a date? No, No, you don’t date; he just wants to sleep with you; he's a player remember. Thanking my common sense, I started to shake my head. Who the fuck are you kidding? He’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen; he smells like the ocean, and you’re dying to lick those dimples of his. I was determined my female parts would not be getting a vote today.
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” I blurted out shaking my head. I couldn’t help it; I felt confused, flushed and my heart was beating a hundred miles an hour.
He smiled again, “Synclair, I didn’t ask to sleep with you; I was just talking about lunch, how easy do you think I am?” he asked placing one hand on his chest in mock hurt.
I laughed; I had to. Reece Hudson, standing on a street corner trying to get me to eat tacos with him, while pretending I had offended his delicate sensibilities… by basically calling him a man-whore; it was hilarious!
I was so busy laughing. I didn’t realize how close he had gotten. I felt a lump in my throat. I itched to lean into his clean blue tee shirt and smell his scent. I loved the ocean and Reece Hudson smelled like a warm, sunny day of surf and sand. He bent down again and waited until my eyes lifted to his.
I just looked at him. I had never been in this situation. Sure, my mom’s boyfriends would leer at me with interest. It would make me sick. However, for some reason, when Reece looked at me, I felt almost giggly. I felt like he was reaching inside me and touching me in places that no one had ever been, and that scared the hell out of me.
“Come on Synclair, it’s just lunch, and if I say anything that offends you, I’m sure there will be some hot salsa you can shove down my throat.” He put one hand on my flushed cheek. I was sure I was beet red. I never acted like a silly school-girl around men. Yet, here I was; tongue tied and shivering from one touch.
Before The Dawn: Prequel to Back to You - Synclair and Reece! See Where It All Began! (A Hudson Family Series- PREQUEL to BACK TO YOU! Book 0) Page 3
