by Portia Moore
Katie is well-meaning, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I smile back. “That’s a good idea,” I reply. “Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”
I know Blue sees right through my bullshit, but fortunately the waitress comes back then to take our order, and I’m mostly saved.
Our food isn’t far behind after that, and conversation wanes as we dig in. Blue destroys a mountain of pancakes along with two fried eggs and some sausage links, Katie nibbles on a bagel.
By the time we finish, I’m almost late to class. I say my goodbyes quickly and hurry to the lecture hall, which of course is on the other side of campus. By the time I get there, it’s packed and there’s hardly any seats left. I find one empty one in the fifth row from the front and make my way past the chattering students, I clear my throat to be polite as I see a brunette girl sitting next to an empty seat.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask, leaning forward. Her long dark hair is in her face, and I can’t make out what she looks like. I’m not really sure why I care—but I’m suddenly curious.
“No,” she mutters without looking up, pulling a syllabus out of her bag and staring down at it as if the answers to all the questions of the universe are written there. I should take that as a hint to sit down and shut up, but somehow I can’t.
“I heard she doesn’t even follow that,” I tell her sliding into the empty seat and putting my bag down.
She looks up at me now, and my breath is momentarily taken away. She’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. With her hair shaken away from her face, almond-shaped eyes that are a greenish-grey hue—more green than grey, really—and a petite face with bow-shaped lips. I don’t think she’s wearing any makeup, but she’s still stunning.
She’s also staring at me. Like…really staring. It should make me uncomfortable—but then again, I’m staring at her too. I can’t seem to make myself stop. And then, wonder of wonders…she smiles back.
“I’m Kameron,” I say, reaching out a hand to shake hers. I suddenly want to know her name more than I’ve wanted anything else in a very long time. I’ve known this girl all of five minutes—but I want to know more.
“Megan,” she responds, taking my hand as she pushes a lock of that thick, dark brown hair behind her ear. Her palm is warm and smooth, small in my broader one, and I feel momentarily breathless again. She’s still smiling at me, wider now, as if she’s suddenly decided to like me. I don’t know what changed, but I also don’t care.
And then, just as quickly, the moment changes. She stands up abruptly, reaching for her bag and frantically shoving her things into it. “Have a good day,” she says quickly, starting to push her way out of the aisle. She’s still looking at me though and I’m confused, trying to figure out what happened. What did I do?
It’s the usual effect I have on girls, I guess. She isn’t the first to turn into a stammering mess around me. She just seemed so distant at first, so uninterested—and then her mood changed to friendly and back again. “You want some help?” I ask, keeping a relaxed grin on my face that I hope will disarm her a little. I should write her off as flaky—after all, didn’t I just break up with a girl whose mood swings left me dizzy? But this girl seems different.
“No!” she says quickly. “No, please, it’s okay. I just…I-I can’t see this far back. My glasses. I forgot them. I’m just going to go to the front…”
She’s already halfway down the aisle before I can think how to respond. I see two girls and a guy that I know—Carrie, Blake, and Alicia from a club I was in last semester—walking up the middle aisle and looking bemusedly from Megan to me and back again. Carrie whispers something to Alicia and both girls burst out giggling; Blake is trying hard not to smirk.
I can’t see Megan’s face, but I’d bet money she’s blushing. The weird thing is so am I. I can feel the heat climbing up my neck as if I’ve been caught at something, and I don’t know why. But there was a spark between Megan and I, and I watch her until she takes her seat in the second to first aisle.
That’s it, I think. There went my shot. And I can’t figure out why I’m so upset about it, because just an hour ago I didn’t want a shot with anyone. This is what Blue was encouraging—Katie too—and I was entirely against it. But this girl…
And then she looks back at me, quickly, as if she’s trying to be inconspicuous. I catch her eye and grin, letting her know that she’s failed, and as she turns red again I cock my head to the side, trying to decipher what she might be thinking. Cold, then warm, then cold, and now warm again. She’s a puzzle I can’t figure out, and I haven’t been this intrigued by someone in a long time.
I shouldn’t pursue her. I should just drop it, and let her fade into the back of my memory.
But I already know I’m not going to.
---
It wasn’t hard to figure out where I could find her later, since it happens to be just my luck that she works at a place where literally every student on the campus happens to go—the bookstore.
Cassie and Alicia wasted no time finding me and teasing me after class. It was worth taking their ribbing and Blake’s smirks to find out that they’d seen her working at the campus bookstore, and that she’d probably be there today, since it was the busiest day of the whole year for the store.
“You’re really going to go stand in line just to say hi to her?” Cassie rolls her eyes as I shrug. “You can literally buy your books online and avoid the madness. I ordered mine a week ago.”
“Of course you did, because you’re a total nerd,” Blake says affectionately.
“Look, I just want to talk to her again. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure it doesn’t.” Cassie pats me on the shoulder. “Good luck, lover boy.”
It’s crazy, I know. Less than five minutes I spent talking to this girl, and I can’t get her out of my head. I try to tell myself I’m just lonely, or horny, but I know it’s more than that. There was something between us when her eyes met mine, and I felt it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Get out of here with that romance novel crap, I tell myself. But I’m already walking towards the bookstore.
Forty-five minutes into my wait in line, a math book in my hand, I catch a glimpse of her. She looks harried and tired, her hair pulled back into a ponytail with wisps falling out around her face—and she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t notice me until the person in front of me is checked out and I’m standing right in front of her, and then she freezes in place, her eyes locking onto mine with instant recognition. I smile at her, putting all the ease and warmth into it that I can. I want her to like me, I realize. I actually care what this girl thinks.
“What are you doing here?” she asks sharply, and I can hear a hint of defensiveness in her tone.
I stare at her for half a second and then grin, laughter spreading across my face. I don’t even have to say it; she realizes what she’s said a second later.
“It’s a bookstore, you’re here to buy books,” she mutters, her skin flushing a bright shade of pink. I didn’t mean to embarrass her, but she looks so adorable that I can’t help but grin wider.
“Actually”—I lean forward a little, as if I’m about to tell her a secret—“there’s a rumor going around.”
She bites her lip, and I swear to God above, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Those green-grey eyes roll up to look at me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and it’s all I can do not to kiss her right then and there.
I have to get her to go out on a date with me.
“A rumor?” She squeaks a little as she asks it, and I grin, leaning forward onto the counter, so that there’s hardly any space between us. I run one hand through my hair, ruffling it a little, and I see her eyes shift to it and then back to my face, and she swallows hard.
The charm is working. I don’t think she has any idea that she’s doing the same to me, and I can’t believe I’m managing to play it as cool as I am. But whatever I’m do
ing, it’s working. There’s nowhere else I want to be right now, and from the look on her face, neither does she.
“The rumor is,” I whisper conspiratorially, “that there’s this beautiful girl who works in the bookstore with a smile you have to pay to see. So…I figured I owed the school a purchase to get a glimpse of it.” I hold up the math book for her to see. “See? One book.”
“Me?” She fiddles with a pen in her hand, swallowing hard again as she looks up into my eyes.
“You’re cute.” It’s the stupidest thing I’ve said all day, but I can’t help it. She has no idea how cute she is, standing there chewing on her lower lip and looking up at me as if I’m a mirage. I can think of a hundred better things I want to say to her, but somehow that’s the only one that came out of my mouth. I laugh—at myself, mostly—but I can see her melt a little in front of me.
“Look, I haven’t done this in a while,” I admit. “I don’t want to waste your time or look like an idiot trying to be smooth, but I think you’re beautiful, and I’d really like to get to know you if that’s okay.”
Well, there it is. Cards on the table. To my relief, her smile softens as she looks at me. It looks like she does appreciate the honesty. She’s looking at me as if she’s never seen anything like me before, as if she’s trying to come to some decision. I can practically see the scales shifting in her head as her eyes scan my face from forehead to chin, almost as if she’s trying to memorize me.
As if she thinks I’m going to disappear.
“Hey, you still with me?” I ask gently.
“Kameron, you seem like a really nice guy…” she starts to say, but all I hear is my name on her lips. I want to hear her say it again.
“You remembered my name!” I exclaim, grinning. She laughs softly, shaking her head at me as if I’m amusing her. Well, it’s something. Both that I’ve amused her, and that she remembers our introduction.
“Guilty,” she says—guiltily. As if she shouldn’t have.
“I remember you too, Megan,” I say gently. I straighten up, still looking down at her. I don’t want to look away and risk breaking the momentary spell between us.
She rolls her eyes. “You remembered mine because of this.” She points at her name tag—which honestly I hadn’t even noticed until right that second.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’ve been replaying our encounter since I met you.” I keep my eyes firmly locked on hers, and I can see her starting to blush again.
“Why?” she whispers. It’s clear that she doesn’t know. She doesn’t see what I see in her, the thing that caught me the moment she looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes.
“I broke up with my ex-girlfriend three months ago.” I hear my voice catch, and curse it. The last thing I want is Megan thinking that I’m still pining over her—even if I am a little—or that I want her back. I definitely don’t. I’m not even sure why I said it. But I want to be honest with her—and strangely, I feel like I can be vulnerable with her. As if I could tell her anything, and she wouldn’t judge me.
“Don’t tell me I look like her.” She chuckles wryly, and I hear the edge in it, the mistrust.
“No,” I assure her quickly. “You’re complete opposites. She’s redheaded, short…loud.” I laugh at the last part—there’s no way to accurately convey how loud Blair could be. “Anyway, I’m doing this all wrong.” My stomach is doing flips—I’ve never been so nervous talking to a girl before.
Be honest. That clearly works.
“I told you that because when I met you, that was the first time I didn’t think about having to start over without her. I could only think about the girl with the hypnotic eyes that got away.”
That did it. She hasn’t said anything yet, but I can see in her face that she’s going to say yes.
And I’m going to do my absolute best to make sure she never regrets it.
2
Alana
The moonlight shines everywhere, even through the cheap blinds of this shitty motel room. It’s casting an unflattering yellow glow over the man in bed next to me, but that’s not what I need right now.
I shut the blinds and turn on the light next to the bed. It isn’t any more flattering, but it works for what I need. I have all the time in the world—the man will be out for hours—but I move quickly anyway. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.
I pull a chair closer to the bed and set up the digital camera that I’ve fished out of my purse. I set up the timer, stand back, and let the camera work its magic.
This one is especially disgusting. Most men are, in one way or another, but this one is physically repulsive. He’s overweight by at least a hundred pounds, thickly furred chest hair that made me shudder when he rolled towards me. Even worse he’s cheap. I usually get taken a hell of a lot better places than this one, most of the marks Jadon gives me are rich but this time it just must be the client whose rich. It’s either that or he’s especially paranoid and he should have been. I’d told him no kissing yet, hoping to avoid too much contact until the drugs kicked in, but that hadn’t stopped him from pawing at my breasts and trying to put his hands in my underwear.
I briefly consider whether or not I could take a shower here as the camera clicks away. I feel gross, but I don’t want to stay in this room, with this man. And who knows—he could wake up early. It was hard to know how to dose a guy his size.
I reset the timer, crawl back into bed, and let the camera take the rest of the photos—ones of me next to him, sitting astride him, bent over him so that his face is visible but it’s hard to tell that he’s passed out and not just blissfully limp with pleasure. Partially clothed, naked, me sitting next to him—I get them all, and then shove the camera into my bag and quickly yank on my jeans and black, cropped halter top. I zip up my high-heeled boots—my favorite, with heels that could slit a man’s throat if I tried hard enough—and just before I leave, snatch up the pair of discarded slacks on the carpet. I dig through for the man’s wallet and free him of four hundred dollars in cash—undoubtedly what he planned to spend at the club before I lured him away. I won’t tell Jadon about this. He should consider it a tip.
Jadon is waiting for me back at his apartment. It’s a real dump, in a bad part of town. He makes enough money to afford something better, but he chooses to live here. Who knows why. I don’t, and I don’t care enough to ask. What I care about is my money, and that’s what I’m here to get.
I stalk up the stairs and knock hard on his door. He answers in jeans and nothing else. I assume the shirtless look is to try to distract me—more because he wants me to look than because he actually wants me, but I ignore him. I’m not interested in his hazel eyes, Colgate commercial teeth, flawless toffee-colored skin, his six pack…or what’s below it. The only hard thing I want of his is his cold, hard cash.
I hand him the camera without a word.
“Do you want something to drink while I get the photos?” Jadon asks. “Or maybe something a little harder? I’ve got some real good weed, some coke…”
“I’ll pass,” I say dryly. “Just get it done.”
He owes me from a mark a few days ago. The person who hired Jadon, whoever it was, should have paid him by now. And once he’s paid, he’ll pay me my cut. Once these photos go to their new owner, I’ll get my cut of that, and so on and so on. It’s a living. Not a decent one, but I don’t really care about that.
“Pictures are good,” he says grudgingly after he finishes downloading them. Sometimes I think he wants me to screw up, so he can get someone who’s more of a doormat, who will take less money or maybe suck his dick in gratitude for the job. He doesn’t like how much of a bitch I am, how little I care about his opinion or his good looks, if anything it makes me like him even less.
“Thanks. Now about the one from a few days ago?” I fix him with a stare, my grey eyes boring into his hazel ones. “You owe me, Jadon.”
He rolls his eyes. “Like you didn’t skim some off the guy in the hotel t
onight. You’re not hard up for cash, Aly.”
“I do a job, you pay me. Capitalism at its finest.” I hold out my hand. “Payday time.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills, peels a few off, and puts them in my hand. I count them quickly—five hundred.
“We agreed on eight.” I clench my jaw, staring him down. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Jadon, but I’m not in the mood for this shit. I just spent an hour in bed with the fattest, greasiest man I’ve seen in a long time, and I want a fucking shower. So give me the rest of my money, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
He shrugs. “Client wasn’t happy with the quality of the photos.”
“Like hell they weren’t,” I spit. “Vogue couldn’t have gotten better fucking photos.”
Jadon isn’t giving an inch, I can see. He shoves the wad of bills back into his pocket.
“Fine.” I whirl on my heel, and he thinks I’ve given in, but he’s about to get a taste of just how much of a “bitch” I can be. Without a word, I snatch his car keys off of the side table by the door—mixed in with so many cigarette butts that even I cringe—and burst out of the door, clattering down the steps in my high-heeled boots.
I hear him shout behind me, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m laughing by the time I get to his car, a black Porsche that he took me out in more than once, probably hoping to get some road head. I bet he gets that all the time.
Not from me. But I’m going to have a fucking great time joyriding in his car.
It purrs like a kitten when I start it up. Thank goodness I know how to drive a stick, because Jadon is hot on my heels as I lock the doors, slam it into first, and peel out of the parking lot, the sound of his cursing and screaming echoing behind me. My phone is going off already but I ignore it, turning onto the highway with a thrill surging through me.
I’m sure there’ll be hell to pay later, but right now I don’t care.
