He shrugs as he drags his teeth along the top of the pen and his tongue slips out from his mouth. “It’s complicated.”
“The story of my life,” I mumble, breathing through the last of my rage. The feeling has passed. Thank God.
“What’s so complicated in your life?” He tosses the pen on the table and crosses his arms over his chest. “You seem like you have it easy, if you ask me.”
“You barely know me,” I say. “So don’t make assumptions about me. For all you know, I could be a recovering crack addict, struggling to keep my sobriety.”
“Are you?” He doubts.
I scowl at him. “No, but the point is that I could be.”
“But, you’re not.” He pauses. “You know, you could always try to explain the complexity of your life to me, so I don’t have to make assumptions. Maybe it’ll turn out that I’m a really great listener.”
I’m flabbergasted. “You seriously want to hear about my problems? You want me to pour my heart and soul out to you? Be my best friend?”
He winces at something I’ve said. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Then, why are we even talking about this?” My fingers seek my jacket on the back of the chair and I prepare to make a dramatic exit. “I think that day on the bench you made it pretty clear that you didn’t like me and that you don't want to get to know me.”
He meticulously watches me for a moment, then his eyes sweep around the room like he’s about to do something wrong. “Okay, here’s the deal. I promise I won’t be a jerk anymore.” He checks over his shoulder again and then reduces the volume of his voice until it’s low and husky. “In fact, I’ll be really nice to you. And I mean ─ really, really nice.”
I remain calm on the outside, but on the inside, I’m a violent storm of emotions. Some are fueled by rage and others by the sexiness of his Goddamn voice. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you suddenly going to be nice to me? When all you’ve done is be rude and insult me. What’s the catch?”
“When did I ever insult you?”
“Yesterday, in class, you said that my eyes were,” I make air quotes, “‘Weird’ and that they throw your concentration off whenever you have to look at them. That was the second time you’ve taken a jab at them, too.”
“I didn’t mean that as a bad thing,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “They’re just distracting because they’re…”
“Violet,” I finish with my eyes fastened on him.
“Actually, I was going to go with different.” There’s a tiny indication of a smile on his lips. “But, violet works. It’s not a bad thing, though. Different is good. It’s normal that’s overrated.”
“The first time we met, you let the door slam me in the elbow,” I remind him, lowering my voice as Mrs. Bakerly glares at me from behind the counter. Shit. The last thing I need is to lose my job. I fold my arms on top of the table, lean my weight on them, and incline my body forward. “And, you got mad at me because I…”
The smile that breaks through his face is so radiant that his eyes sparkle under the lights. “Because you touched me.”
I roll my tongue in my mouth trying to contain my aggravation. “It still didn’t mean you had to be rude to me.”
“I know.” He appears genuinely sincere. “And, I’m sorry about that. I was having a rough morning.”
I evaluate him. Can he feel the electricity, too? Because I sure as hell can. He seems content, calm, and perfectly in control with his shoulders relaxed and his eyes soft. “It hurt when the door hit my elbow.”
“And again, I’m sorry.” He looks around the room again, paying extra attention to the door where a few people are wandering in.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask, craning my neck to look around at the door and the shelves. “Or are you looking for an escape route.”
“That depends on if you’re planning to try and attack me again,” he quips, his lips teasing upward. “Like when we first met.”
“I didn’t try to attack you,” I protest, narrowing my eyes at him. “I just put my hands on you.”
“Without permission,” he points out with that damn cocky smirk on his face. “Tell me, do you always do that with people you don’t know?”
“Do you always let doors slam on people that you don’t know?” It’s like we’re running around in circles, bantering and bickering like an old couple. I need to leave and put a stop to it, but it’s the most interaction I’ve had with another human being and, despite the negativity, I’m kind of enjoying myself.
“Again, you touched me without permission,” he says. “What did you expect to happen?”
“You know what, you’re so right.” I hold up my hand, showing him my palm. “You see this scar right here.” I trace my finger along a faint white scar and let sarcasm drip through my voice. “I put my hand on this guy once and he cut my hand open, but I guess it was okay because I put my hands on him without permission.” A total bullshit lie, but I’m trying to make a point.
He leans back in his chair, positioning his fist in front of his mouth to conceal a smile. “Sounds like the perfect punishment.” He reads through my bullshit lie like an open book.
I roll my eyes and let my hand fall onto the table. “Look, I’m sorry for touching you. I just… I don’t know why I did it.”
“Because you’re attracted to me,” he states with overconfidence. “But, don’t worry, you aren’t the first.”
I shake my head and melodramatically move my hand toward my bag as if what he said is the most absurd thing ever. I decide then that I will leave and prove a point; that despite the fact that he is telling the truth, I don’t have to listen to him.
Quickly rising from the chair, he reaches over the table and seizes my wrist. Bringing my hand to the table, he traps it there beneath his. “Listen, I’m not much of a people person, so sometimes I say things that come off as…”
“As you being an a**hole.” I’m angry, irritated, as well as extremely hot and bothered by his touch.
“That’s one way to put it.” He smiles, but then it fades into a frown. “But, if you’ll let me, I swear to God, I’ll be nice. In fact, I promise I will.”
I stare at his hand on my arm and his fingers cup around my wrist. “People make empty promises all the time.”
“I never promise anything unless I mean it.” He loosens his grip and shifts the position of his hand so it’s extended over the table. “So, I’m promising you that I’ll be nice.”
I mull it over and then put my hand in his, feeling as though I’m betraying my self-worth, but it’s worth it just to get some peace for the rest of my time here. As soon as our skin comes into contact, it’s like my mind has been sucked into a pressurized bottle and my brain torrents with vivid images.
Alex presses his hand to mine and there is a river of blood streaming down his forearm. “I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
“Forever?” I ask, my hand trembling against his as warm blood spills down my arm.
He smiles. “I promise.” He leans over the small box situated between us and the candles burn luminously from inside the dirt cave. “And I never promise anything unless I mean it.”
As I look into his eyes, I only see truth and when he kisses me, pressing his lips to mine, devouring me, tasting me and feeling me with his free hand; I know that he’s all I want.
I gasp, jerking my hand away as my heart squeezes inside my chest. “Shit.”
He calmly draws his hand away and rests it on the table. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah…” I take a deep breath, my pulse frantically pounding against the outpouring of adrenaline in my body. I search his eyes, looking for a sign that he experienced the same thing. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He reaches toward a stack of books on the table. “Maybe we should get to work.”
What is happening to me? These things… these images… what are they? I press down everything I’m feeling, the perplexity, fear, the longing, and I nod.
“Can I ask you one more question?” he asks as I flick the cap off my pen.
I nod, distracted by my thoughts. “Sure.”
“Where did you really get the scar?”
I stare down at the thin line running across my palm. “I have no idea… I can’t remember.”
He doesn’t seem alarmed by my answer, instead, he appears satisfied. He begins highlighting notes with a bright yellow marker and I do the same. Finally, after searching through an entire stack of books and finding nothing, I decide to go look for more in the Astronomy Section and see if I can find anything on Gamma-ray burst. Alex doesn’t ask where I’m going because he’s caught up in flirting with Blondie.
I’m squatting down searching the slim selection of books on the bottom row, when someone walks up behind me. Electricity gyrates through me and I know its Alex.
“Finding anything useful?” Alex asks, flopping down on the floor next to me with his back up against the shelf. “Because the stack on the table Aislin dug up is practically useless.”
I slide a book out from the shelf and shake my head. “The selection here’s crap. We might have to go to the library across town.” I turn around and sit down on the floor. “They have a better selection.”
“Or we could just bail on the project all together.”
“Why are you even in the class?” I open the book, turn around, and sit down on the floor. “If you don’t like the subject. It’s not even required.”
His grins. “An easy A.”