by L. A. Fiore
And off she went. Sophia was in love again. Grinning to myself, I wondered how long it would last this time. Upon entering, I immediately saw Kira with Mica. I moved through the crowd hoping they wouldn't see me because, as rumor would have it, when Kira drank she tended to get even nastier than she was when sober. Poppy, Shawn and I mingled inside for a bit, but then I just wanted some fresh air, so I headed outside to the fire pit.
I didn’t see Bastian and was tempted to text him, but what exactly would I say? Instead, I took a seat by the fire and quickly became mesmerized by the flames dancing against the darkening sky.
Not much time had passed, when I heard the sound of someone approaching. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of Bastian moving across the lawn to me. As if on cue, my body responded to his nearness: tingles, sweaty palms and a pounding in my chest.
He swept his gaze over me from head to toe and back again. “You're beautiful.”
At the compliment, I lowered my head, suddenly feeling rather shy.
He crouched down in front of me and reached for my chin, straightening my head so I was looking into his eyes before saying, “It's really crowded here. Do you want to leave?”
Leave with him? Hell, yeah. Shyness took a back seat to excitement. “I have to tell Poppy.”
He reached for my hand and linked our fingers. My pulse pounded in my throat over that act but with how easily he offered it, I wondered if it meant to him what it did to me. “Let’s go find her.”
Poppy and Shawn were just making their way outside when they stopped in mid-step at the sight of Bastian and me walking hand in hand toward the house, because they knew all too well that hand holding was not an everyday occurrence for me.
As soon as we reached them, I made the introductions. “Poppy, Shawn, this is Bastian.”
Shawn and Bastian shook hands as Poppy unconsciously fluffed her hair. Because she knew me so well, she spoke up before I could. “There are too many “populars” here, so Shawn and I were going to ditch. Do you mind, Lark?”
“No, not at all.”
“Okay, well, you have the house key, right? So I’ll see you at home.”
Turning to Bastian, I asked, “Give me a second?”
“Sure.”
Playfully nudging Poppy along, we separated ourselves from the guys. “Thanks for that.”
“No problem, but I want to hear all the details, every single one,” she said excitedly.
“You bet.”
She looked past me to where Shawn and Bastian were talking. “He really is incredible.” Her gaze returned to mine, “You two look really good together.”
“He makes my heart pound nearly out of my chest.”
“That’s good, really good.”
“I know.”
“Okay, let’s not keep our guys waiting.”
“He isn’t mine, Poppy.”
She pulled me toward Shawn and Bastian, “You sure about that?”
“Okay, we’ll see you later. Come on, Shawn, I’m hungry.” Her words were barely out of her mouth before she started leading Shawn back up to the house.
“Poppy’s not very subtle.” My focus moved from her retreating form to Bastian only to find he was already looking at me. He held out his hand.
“Are you ready?”
I didn’t hesitate to slip my hand into his. He asked, “Are you okay with riding on the back of my bike?”
“Absolutely.”
We made our way to the front of the house, but my feet didn't quite feel like they were touching the ground. I couldn’t believe I was leaving with Bastian Ross and if this was a dream, I wasn’t about to pinch myself.
Chapter Three
We reached Bastian’s bike and he lifted a helmet to place on my head before reaching for a leather jacket and holding it up to me.
“You should wear this.”
His scent surrounded me as soon as I slipped my arms into it. My knees went weak, again. If I continued to hang with Bastian, I was going to need knee replacement surgery.
He pulled an elastic from his pocket and tied his hair back into a ponytail before settling on his bike to hold it steady for me. I climbed on, wrapped my arms around his hard, flat stomach and felt the shudder that went through him in response. The bike roared to life. “Hold on, Lark.” The reality of riding with Bastian was so much better than I imagined.
We drove around for a while before we parked behind an auto body garage. I hadn't even gotten the chance to pull my helmet off, when he stepped up in front of me and did it for me. His finger lingered on my cheek a moment, but the tender look in his eyes as he did so had me feeling all gooey inside. He hung the helmet on his bike's handlebars then directed me toward the entrance.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“I work here.” He unlocked the door and waited for me to precede him before he hit the switch which immediately flooded the space with light. There were four car bays, two of which contained cars. The cement floors were stained with oil and other auto fluids. Large red tool chests lined the front wall of the garage and the wires and hoses, for the various compressors and lifts, that hung from the ceiling formed an intricate web-like maze. My eyes landed on an old black muscle car in the bay closest to us. The lines were beautiful.
“What a great car,” I said.
“A ‘67 Chevy Impala.”
“Nice.”
My attention shifted from the car to him; there was a devilish look on his face, “What were you laughing about that first day in English?”
“Oh, no, you first. Why did you switch schools?”
He feigned frustration, but I didn't miss the humor in his eyes. “I used to go to a private prep school, but switched to public. My parents are large contributors to the school I was attending and they used their influence to control my teachers and to try to control me. Needless to say, they weren't happy when I upped and moved schools, but because I'm eighteen, they couldn't stop me. To them, it's just one more bad choice, in a long line of bad choices, that I've made.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, it is what it is.”
“I'm guessing by bad choices you mean your tattoos?”
“Yes, they hate them.”
My gaze moved to his arms and the swirls of colors and images that covered them. “I love them.”
He touched my chin with his finger and lifted my face to his. “So, what were you laughing about that first day in English?”
“I was laughing at what you would think if you knew what I was thinking.”
A slight smile touched his lips, “And what were you thinking?”
I couldn’t say it; it was too embarrassing. “I can’t.”
“We had a deal.”
“It’s too embarrassing, but I will say part of it was related to you being...beautiful.”
Those teal eyes turned darker and an expression that caused my blood pressure to soar, washed over his features. “I suppose I’ll take that as an answer for now.”
Considering my body flipped out whenever Bastian was near, I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. It was comfortable, as if we'd been friends for years. That meant something, I was sure of it, but I moved past that and asked, “Why did you bring me here?”
“It’s quiet so we can talk.” He gestured to the workbench and offered me the stool. He headed for the small refrigerator, asking from over his shoulder, “So you’re staying at your friend’s tonight?”
“I’m staying there for the next week.”
He looked surprised when he turned back to me. “Why?”
“My aunt and family went to Disney World.”
He reached for two Cokes. “And you didn’t want to go.”
“I wasn’t invited.”
It was because he was now standing right in front of me that I saw the clenching of his jaw. “They didn’t invite you to join them?”
“It was more than that. My aunt told me flat out that I wasn't welcome.”
�
�Bitch.”
“Yes, she is.”
He handed me my Coke. “So, I guess your home life is about as good as mine.”
“Yeah, your parents are disappointed in you and my aunt is disinterested and cruel.”
He hesitated before he asked, “Your mom and dad?”
“Mom died when I was eight, never knew my dad.”
Tenderness crept into his expression as well as the understanding that I really wanted to change the subject. He asked, “Any idea about what you want to do next year?”
“I'm hoping to go Columbia. What about you?”
“Honestly, I'm not sure, but my parents want me to go to Yale like my dad and his dad. That isn’t what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to be allowed to find who I am and not be forced into a cookie cutter version of my dad.”
It would seem that Bastian was a believer of tit for tat; I offered an intimate glimpse into me so he countered with one of his own. My gaze found his arms and a smile touched my lips. “It looks to me like you're well on your way to finding yourself.”
His expression in response was wicked. “Good.”
He grew thoughtful for a moment. “Was it always like that at home—you being excluded?”
“Yeah, but there was a day when I first arrived that was the closest to a perfect day I've ever had. I felt like a kid for the first time in my life.”
Bastian watched me steadily as I spoke. “What changed?” He asked.
I played with the condensation on my can of Coke, because after all these years, remembering the look on Aunt Kim's face that night still shattered me. The realization for the little girl I had been, that my hope of finally being a part of a happy family wasn't going to happen was heartbreaking. “That night my aunt walked in on my uncle and me talking about my mom. Just like that, she changed.”
He said nothing for a minute as he seemed to consider my words. “Sounds like your aunt's jealous. She's a douche, taking her shit out on a kid.” His finger trailed down my cheek. “You okay?”
Surprise was my reaction to that simple question—that he asked and more that he seemed genuinely concerned. “I'm fine. It was a long time ago.”
He had a thought on that, I could see it burning in his eyes, but he kept it to himself and instead asked, “Do you have a free period on Monday?”
“Yeah, seventh.”
“Maybe I could meet you in the art room and you could show me some of your work.”
“I'd like that. Can I ask you something, Bastian?”
He smiled and settled on the floor: resting his back against the workbench. “Sure.”
“Why do you talk to Kira? She doesn't really seem your speed.”
“She's a friend of the family. I've known her since we were six.”
“Oh.” Well, that sucked.
He must have realized where my thoughts were taking me when he added rather softly, “She's always been self-absorbed and shallow, but it's the connection to her family my parents encourage.”
“Do they know the kind of person she is?”
“Yes.”
“Then why wish her on their child?”
“Because her parents are affluent and well-connected, and that's all that matters.” Bitterness rang in his tone.
“None of that matters. The golden rule is a life lesson people usually learn in childhood. How can they be blind to it?”
“I've no idea.” He stood. “I better get you home.”
Slipping my hand into his, I allowed him to pull me to my feet. He was so close I could feel the heat rolling off his body in waves, feel the soft tickle of his breath over my skin and could smell him: his unique masculine scent. I wanted those arms around me. I wanted him to kiss me. His fingers traced my chin and along my jaw before entangling in my hair as if to kiss me.
I couldn't say what he was thinking as he studied me so intently before he released his hold on my hair and led me from the garage. We didn't speak as we walked to his bike and as we settled onto it, he spoke only to ask for Poppy's address. When it roared to life, talking became impossible.
Like Sophia, I was falling hard, despite the fact that I didn't know Bastian. The ride seemed too short to pull up at Poppy’s house as fast as we did. When I climbed off, I expected him to drive away. He didn’t, though. He shut down his bike and climbed off after me, taking my hand again as we walked to the front door where I immediately busied myself unlocking it because I was nervous: worrying over whether or not he was going to kiss me. Inhaling deeper, I turned and met his unwavering stare. “I really had fun tonight.”
Touching my hair, taking a few strands in between his thumb and forefinger, he said, “I did too.”
Realizing I still wore his jacket, I started to take it off. Before I could, he stopped me when he whispered, “Keep it. It looks good on you.”
His fingers entwined with my own. He lifted our hands and placed a kiss in my palm. It took me a moment to realize the tightening in my chest and the chills that lit over my nerve endings in response to that intimate gesture was the result of profound pleasure, an emotion I was unaccustomed to feeling. He started back down the drive, glancing at me from over his shoulder, while I curled the hand he kissed into a fist hoping to hold the kiss there. Climbing on his bike, he started it up and looked one last time at me before he pulled away. I watched until his taillights disappeared.
Poppy waited for me at the top of the stairs. “Nice jacket.” Her eyes widened slightly when she got a good look at me, “I want all the details.”
“Just as soon as I come down from cloud nine.”
***
On Monday morning I sat in homeroom feeling a bit uncomfortable—Poppy had cut my hair on Sunday. She took four inches from the length, making it fall just past my shoulders, and she did something with the front so it fell in soft layers around my face. She also insisted I wear some of her clothes. I’d also worn Bastian's jacket, but had to leave it in my locker. As strange as it was to say, I missed having that piece of him with me—the smell of him had wrapped around me like a hug.
The staring started as I made my way down the hall to English. People generally didn't notice me—amazing what a makeover could do. Bastian was leaning up against the lockers when I turned the corner, but as soon as he saw me, he started in my direction. The look on his face, one of total male appreciation, made my toes curl. He didn't hide the very thorough perusal he gave me. “Morning.”
Such a simple word and yet there was nothing simple about how my body reacted to it: butterflies took off in my stomach and my body grew unaccountably warm. His hand came to rest on my lower back. “Shall we?”
I preceded him into class and we made our way to the back where I usually sat. Bastian took the seat next to me, but pushed it closer so we were only inches apart. The movement was not lost on the class as people turned around and gossiped as they did. Whether that was because he was sitting next to me or because of the makeover, I had no idea. He seemed completely oblivious. “How was your weekend?”
“Poppy had me watching a marathon of cooking shows. How about you?”
“I was counting the minutes.” What a thing to say. But before I could reply, a shadow fell over me.
“Sebastian, why are you sitting back here?”
His answer gave me chills. “You're blocking my view, one I happen to really like.” Kira turned and stared at me. I'm guessing by the look on her face that she didn't recognize me at first.
“Larkspur, what happened?”
It was a haircut and a change of clothes. What did she mean ‘what happened?’
“I was abducted by aliens over the weekend and they gave me a makeover.”
An odd look crossed over her face, “Is there something going on between you two?”
Bastian’s shoulders tensed and his voice turned oddly hard, in drastic contrast to what he actually said. “I hope so.”
Without conscious thought, I reached for Bastian's
hand and pressed my lips to his palm. Our eyes were locked, but I could still sense the indignation pouring off of Kira—she was about to explode. He never took his eyes off of me as he curled his fingers around the kiss in his palm, mirroring my action from Friday night. Kira stomped off to her seat, but she could have been invisible with how much attention we paid her. During roll call, Mrs. MacIntosh made Bastian put his desk back, but that didn't stop us from spending the rest of the class staring at each other. I missed the entire lecture and I so didn't care.
At lunch I walked into the cafeteria to see Bastian waiting. To know he waited for me, had me feeling a lightness in my chest I never felt before. The difference a day made, or in this case a weekend. He went from avoiding me at school to seeking me out. It was a change that I could wholeheartedly get behind. As soon as he saw me, he walked over and reached for my hand. It was a simple gesture, reaching for my hand, and yet I craved the physical link to him. Loved that he seemed to crave it too. We got our food and settled at a table across the cafeteria from where Poppy and the others were sitting.
“Sorry, I should have asked if you wanted to eat at your friends' table.”
I could only stare in reaction because what guy would even think to ask that? He really was just about perfect. “I'd like to have lunch here with you.”
“I was hoping you'd say that.” He eyed my lunch and grinned, which I could only assume was because we got almost the same thing.
“I'm not the kind of girl to get a salad and pick at it. I like food, and since I walk to school every day, I let myself eat food, even pizza.”
“You live nearby?”
“Yeah, about three miles away.”
He was in the process of bringing his pizza to his mouth when he stopped. “Why don't you take the bus?”
“It doesn't come into my neighborhood.”
He put his pizza down and just stared at me, but I could see the temper burning behind his eyes. “And your aunt and uncle are okay with you walking every morning?”
