Authors: Stina Lindenblatt
Chapter Twelve
Marcus
I know I look like an idiot, staring at Kitten like she’s a winning lottery ticket. Is she really promising a thousand dollars if I help her get an A? And what are the odds I can do that? For all I know, she could be brain dead when it comes to math.
But brain dead or not, she’s also offering to pay me hourly, and I’d rather tutor her than some dumbass jerk. Especially if I can convince her to let me show her that vectors aren’t the only things hot in the horizontal and vertical position.
My junk twitches at that possibility, even as I recognize that was a really lame line. “When do you want to start?”
“As soon as possible.”
I’ve got nothing planned for the morning, and the sooner we begin the better. “How about we meet at the Marketplace in an hour?”
She checks her watch. “That works.”
“Bring your notes and book.”
She nods and walks toward the locker rooms. I shake my head. Shit, what was I thinking? I need the money and Chase told me to get a tutoring gig. But did I agree to help her for the money, or was it because my dick gets tight whenever I’m near her?
Realizing it doesn’t matter either way, I finish working out and have a quick shower before heading over to the Marketplace. Kitten’s already there when I arrive, scanning the food court, body tense.
“Relax, Kitten. You’re way too tense. I’m not gonna bite.”
Unless you want me to.
She holds an edge of vulnerability that reminds me of Ryan. He used to have the same exhausted, haunted look about him. I want to ask who hurt her, but I get the feeling she won’t tell me.
The protective feeling I experienced last night at the party, the one I’ve never felt for a girl before, stirs deep. I push it away. I don’t need this.
“Would you stop calling me ‘Kitten’?” she says, tone tight.
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I have to call you something, and since you haven’t told me your name, ‘Kitten’ will have to do.”
“My name’s Amber.”
“Marcus.”
“I know.” She bites her lower lip. I don’t think she even realizes how hot it is when she does that. It makes me want to gently guide her lip away from her teeth, run the tip of my tongue along it, then suck it into my mouth and see how she’ll respond.
That’s what I want to do, but if she runs, and something tells me she will, there goes my chance to earn some serious bucks.
We order our coffees, which Kitten looks like she needs more than anything. Though from the amount of sugar and milk she pours into it, it’s clear coffee isn’t her drink of choice.
I lead her to a table in the food court and sit. Compared to during the week, the place isn’t busy. Mostly students getting together to work on group projects, and young families hanging out after using the sport facilities.
Again, Amber scans the area.
“You looking for someone?” I ask.
“No, it’s just....” The fingertips of her right hand tap against her thigh. “I mean no.” She sips her coffee. “By the way, thanks for helping with that guy last night.” The hand with the coffee in it shakes a little when she mentions him. “I told him I wasn’t interested but he wouldn’t listen.”
“You know him?”
“He told me he’s in my bio class. There’re so many people in it, I’ve never noticed him before.” Pain or fear, or both, flare in her eyes. Once again, she glances around.
“Don’t worry about him. After last night, I doubt he’s gonna touch you or talk to you again. But if he does, just let me know, okay?”
She nods, not looking too sure what to think. “What happened after I ran off?”
My lips curl into a smirk. “I hit him and threatened him if he comes near you again.”
She smiles, the movement small. Her body relaxes a little more, though there’s still an edge of wariness to her that she’s had since I first noticed her at Your Designs.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay but couldn’t find you. Where’d ya go?”
“I was there.” She removes her text and binder from her backpack, and opens the book to the chapter on algebraic equations and inequalities. “This is what we were covering, but I got an F on my test.” She looks like she’s going to puke. “I’m not sure I understood everything.”
No shit
.
“Do you have your test?”
“Yeah, sure.” She searches through her binder and hands me the booklet. Her right hand drops to her lap and she bounces her fingers against her thigh again.
I flip through the pages and study her answers. I can feel the grand slip away. She got a few right, but she didn’t finish most of the test.
“Why do you need the class?” If she’s this clueless about math, why the hell is she in the course?
“I’m taking pre-veterinary sciences. It’s part of the required courses.” She lets out a long breath. “So, do you think you can help me?”
No.
I nod. “But it’s not gonna be easy.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to pass. This is important to me.” She smiles, but it gets lost somewhere between her mouth and her eyes.
“Okay.” I rip a page out of her binder. She cringes but doesn’t say anything. “Did you know there’re three kinds of people in the world?” I smirk. “Those who can count and those who can’t.”
This time the smile on her face is genuine and she chuckles. “And you’re planning to help me with math?”
“Damn straight I am.”
We spend the next hour going over what she’s covered so far in class. As far as I can tell, she’s not dumb. Math just isn’t her thing. But I will give it to her—she works hard to figure out what I’m showing her and asks lots of good questions.
Two arms encircle my shoulders from behind, and a pair of cool lips kisses my neck. Even without Tammara saying anything, I recognize her slightly musky perfume.
“Miss me, darling?” she purrs.
Momentarily ignoring the equation I was explaining to Amber, I unhook myself from Tammara’s arms. She sits next to me and rests her hand on my thigh, marking her territory.
“Math,” she says, taking note of the textbook between me and Amber. “How boring.” She inches her hand up my leg. “I can think of better ways to entertain you.” She doesn’t bother to acknowledge Amber. Everything’s a game for Tammara, and this time’s no exception.
I remove her hand from my lap and put it on the table. “We’re busy.” I don’t want to be a jerk in front of Amber, but Tammara’s pissing me off. This is my fault. I should have had the balls to end things with her the other morning before I left her apartment.
“That’s okay.” She glances at Amber, a sly smile edging on to her face. “I can wait. I have to study for my marketing exam.”
Amber’s gaze jumps from Tammara to me and back again. Her fingers go back to tapping against her thigh. Mine itch to cross the space and cover her hand, stilling the movement. Tammara will see Amber’s actions as a sign of weakness.
The protective urge surfaces, again. “We need to talk,” I tell Tammara.
She stiffens for a brief moment before regaining her composure. The smile is back on her face but this time it holds a note of uncertainty. “Why don’t you come over to my place after you’re finished here? We can talk there.” From her silky voice, it’s clear what she hopes will happen, and she’s making it clear to Amber, too.
Normally I wouldn’t care what a girl thinks, but Kitten isn’t any girl. “We need to talk now.” I say it more forcefully this time.
“I-I should leave.” Amber reaches for her book and closes it.
“Give me a moment...unless you really have to go.” I get the feeling she isn’t ready to quit studying yet. I’m certainly not.
I stand. Tammara doesn’t move. She’s too busy glaring at Amber.
“Now, Tammara.”
Without looking at me, she gives a slight nod and follows me around the corner to a quiet spot near the wall. No one pays us any attention.
She pouts. Some guys fall for it. I’m not one of them. As if sensing that, her pout vanishes. “You better not be planning to tell me that you want to remain friends.” Her heated tone could melt daggers into liquid metal.
It’s hard to remain friends when you weren’t friends to begin with. I wisely keep that to myself. “You and I want different things, Tammara.”
“Meaning you were interested in me when it was only sex. Is that what this is all about, Marcus? I want more and you’re only interested in getting laid?”
Figuring it’s a rhetorical question, I don’t answer.
“She’s not even your usual type,” she says, pointing out the obvious, even though she doesn’t know how right she is. My type usually doesn’t need any encouragement to drop their panties.
“Keep her out of this.” My voice is dangerously low, the warning unmistakable. “I’m only tutoring her.”
Tammara laughs bitterly “I know you better than that. You’re only tutoring her to get into her pants. That’s all you care about. Screw ’em and leave ’em. That’s your motto.” A sliver of hurt mingles with her words, but I can’t tell if it’s real or not.
“At least I’m capable of caring about something,” I snap.
Tammara jerks away as if I’d slapped her, and I instantly wish I could take the words back. That was pretty low, even for me.
“Fuck you, asshole.” She narrows her eyes at me, then looks in the direction we came from. Before I can say anything, she storms off. Fortunately she leaves through the back exit, away from Amber.
I return to the table. Kitten is busy working through a math question.
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“It’s okay.” She smiles softly and pushes the page she was working on toward me. “I figured I would try another question while you were gone.”
I lean forward and catch the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. I breathe her in and check her answer. “Very good, Kitten. You got it.” I grin at her.
She grins back. “You’re a great teacher.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying what else I’m good at teaching. I don’t want to destroy this easy rapport between us.
“So what made you decide to become an engineer?” she asks.
Since I don’t want to tell her about my pathetic excuse of a life, I say, “What do you get when you cross a mosquito and a mountain climber?”
She frowns slightly, either confused at my avoidance of the question or because she’s trying to figure out the answer. She shrugs.
“You can’t cross a vector with a scalar.”
Amber groans then laughs. “Where did you learn all these lame jokes?”
“My high school math teacher. It was the only way he could get the class to pay attention.” A trick my history teacher should have tried. I might have done better in the class if he had.
At the sound of classical music coming from the floor, Amber reaches toward her backpack. The cuff of her hoodie sleeve slides up, revealing thick scars on her wrist. She tugs the cuff down and sits up, cell phone in hand. She checks it then drops it in her bag.
All I can do is stare at her injured wrist, hidden under the fabric of her hoodie. She pulls her hand farther into her sleeve, making sure I can’t see even a fraction of the scars.
“It’s not what you think,” she says, her voice low and cracked. “I didn’t try to kill myself.”
How the hell could she end up with scars like that if she wasn’t attempting suicide? “What happened?”
She fidgets with the cuff, eyes avoiding mine, then grabs her stuff from the table and shoves it in her bag. “I have to go.” Before I can say anything, she bolts.
Chapter Thirteen
Amber
I smile and do a happy dance while seated on my desk chair. Thanks to Marcus’s tutoring session yesterday, I got another answer correct. The guy’s a genius.
Someone knocks on the bedroom door. I open it.
Jordan sails into the room and flops on my bed. “I need a break from studying. You wanna hit the mall with me? Maybe see a movie?”
“Sure.” She’s not the only one who needs a break. I’ve been studying for four hours straight. My brain feels like it’s ready to explode. And since I expect Brittany to reappear at any moment, snarling at me in the way only Brittany can do, I’m ready to escape.
I grab my purse, and we head downstairs to the parking lot where Jordan’s black Honda Civic sits. The warm fall wind kisses my face as we stroll across the sun-dappled asphalt.
I check the backseat to make sure it’s clear, then walk around her car, ensuring the tires appear normal.
“Do you, like, do that every time you get in a car?” she asks.
“You never can play it too safe,” I say, repeating a line I once read. “You never know when someone might be hiding in the backseat ready to attack you, or has put a hole in your tire. Do you know how many girls are raped each year ’cause some sicko forced them to pull over because of a flat tire he caused?”
“Point taken. So, Miss Safety Officer, are we good to go?”
I turn around, scanning the area for anyone watching us. “Yep, we’re good.”
Jordan unlocks the doors and we climb in.
“Is there anything you’re specifically looking for at the mall?” I click my seat belt in place. “Or are we just wandering around?”
“I could use more party clothes.” She starts the car. The engine purrs to life. “You know, in case we wanna go out again. I thought we could go to the dance club everyone talks about. What do you think?”
I tug down on the cuff of Trent’s hoodie. “About which part?”
“Both. I thought we could go dancing this weekend.”
“Sure. Why not?” I force a smile on my face. I must have succeeded in making it look genuine because she grins back at me.
“And we’ll look for something for you to wear. Something less, well, tomboyish.”
A sinking feeling weighs inside me. What are the chances she’ll want me to model them in the store for her? It’s bad enough Marcus saw the scars. I can’t risk Jordan seeing them and the tattoo. Marcus may have shrugged them off. I won’t get so lucky with Jordan. While it might be nice to have someone to tell what I went through with Paul, other than the cops, the doctors and nurses, the D.A., I don’t need to give Jordan nightmares. I have enough for the both of us.
As if pulled by an invisible force, my hand drifts to the spot where the tattoo lies, and my fingers caress the soft fabric hiding it. The tension that I didn’t realize was building in my muscles fades.
“If your parents had you under such a tight rein,” I say, “how come you’re such a great dancer?”
“I took dance lessons for years while growing up, and danced to music videos whenever my parents weren’t around. Which was a lot.”
The mall parking lot is busy when we arrive, but it doesn’t take long before Jordan finds a spot. I guess we’re not the only ones needing a break from our studies.
As we walk through the mall, Jordan hones in on a clothing store where the manikins reveal more plastic than the clothes cover. One is wearing a black midthigh-length halter dress.
“You’d look great in that.” Jordan grabs my arm and drags me into the store.
Panic shoots through me and I twist my arm free. “I can’t wear that.” Not unless I want to show off my scars and tattoo.
“Yes you can. Trust me on this one, Amber.”
“I can’t wear that. How about....” I scan the store. “How about that one?” I point to a manikin wearing a long-sleeved sweater dress in black, with narrow muted gold stripes running horizontally. It’s almost midthigh-length, but it will look great with black tights, unlike the halter dress.
Jordan inspects it. “Won’t you get hot dancing in it?”
Dancing? I’m going to have to dance, too? “It’ll be fine. The fabric isn’t thick.” Besides, while Jordan might not be so impressed, I love it. It’s not clingy, and with my black boots, it will look great without screaming “look at me.” And the dark color lets me remain invisible.
She inspects it again before nodding her reluctant approval. “Well, it’s not quite what I had in mind, but it will look incredible on you.” What she’s really thinking is it’ll look better than my jeans and hoodies. I can’t argue with her there.
I search through the rack for my size.
“Which one do you like more?” Jordan holds up two dresses that I hope are for her, not me. One is purple and would give her parents a heart attack if they saw it.
“These are for you, right?”
She nods.
“Both of them. They’re both great.”
We try on the dresses. As expected, mine fits perfectly and keeps most of my scars hidden, except for the ones on my leg.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Jordan says as I pull on my T-shirt.
I touch the forget-me-not tattoo. “I’m almost ready.”
I slip into my hoodie and step out of the changing room. Jordan is waiting for me in the purple dress.
“Where’s your dress?” she asks, even though I’m holding it so it’s obvious where it is. “Aren’t you going to show me what it looks like?”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to see it now. But yours looks perfect. Turn around.”
I was right. It does look perfect on her. When they see her long wild hair and slim body and golden brown coloring, guys will be all over her. Just as long as they pay attention to
her
, I’ll be fine.
She changes into the other dress, and like the first one, it looks amazing on her. The low scooping back shows off her toned body. She buys them both.
Afterward, we check out the other clothing stores. I don’t buy anything else, but Jordan makes the most of no longer being under her parents’ rules and no longer having to wear school uniforms. She’s like a cat with catnip. Crazy happy.
She points to a store named Lingerie Rose. “Let’s go there next.” Without waiting for a reply, she cuts across the mall.
Inside, I find her hunting through the tables of satin bras and thong underwear. A far cry from my usual white cotton.
“I still can’t believe you offered Marcus a thousand dollars to help you get an A.”
I pick up a lacy black bra. “I know, but if I want to be a vet, I have to pass the class. Plus I figured he would take tutoring me more seriously if I dangled the carrot in front of him.”
“I bet Brittany would be a lot nicer and would tutor you if you dangled that carrot in front of her.” She snorts. “Or maybe not.” She returns the purple bra and selects another one. “Plus she wouldn’t be as much fun as Marcus.”
“I’m not planning to have fun with him. He’s just there to help me with my math. And it’s a win-win situation. I do well in math and he gets money f-for I don’t know, for his car.” Isn’t that what guys usually spend their money on? Cars and sports?
A bouncy pop song plays through the store speakers. Jordan sings along. Since there are no guys in the store, I join her, and we laugh and dance to the music. This is the most fun I’ve had in a while, and makes me realize how much I miss dancing.
A rather stern look from a sales clerk prompts us to drop the bras back on the pile.
Still chuckling, Jordan walks to a rack of satin slips. I follow her, trying to keep a straight face and not glance back at the saleswoman.
A familiar laugh breaks out behind me and I spin around. Emma and her friends wander into the store. At the sight of me, Emma stops and a flurry of emotions cross her face, none of which I can get a firm grasp on.
“What do you think of this?” Jordan asks. I turn back to her. She’s holding a short red slip with spaghetti straps.
My wrists and shoulders hurt
,
and my hands feel like they’re floating in the air.
I’m sitting
,
propped against a cold wall
,
the same temperature as the concrete floor.
The cool air wraps itself around me and I shiver.
My eyes open and I gasp.
I’m in what looks like a jail cell with a queen-sized bed
,
and I’m handcuffed to the wall behind me
,
in nothing but a red satin slip.
I
yank at the handcuffs and try to twist my hands free.
Blood trickles from the wounds on my wrists.
“
Let me go!
”
I
scream.
No one comes
,
though I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
Shaking beyond control
,
I
yank at the handcuffs
,
again.
“Amber?” a panicked voice says. Jordan. “What’s wrong?”
I blink and I’m back in the store. Jordan stares at me, eyes wide. She’s not alone. Everyone is staring at me.
Oh, God. What did I do
this
time? Sometimes I just zone out when I get a flashback. From the way everyone’s staring at me, that’s not what happened this time.
“What a freak,” a girl says next to Emma, confirming that I did more than just zone out, but I’m too scared to ask Jordan. Something tells me I don’t want to know.
Emma’s face is paler than normal as she stares at me, eyes wide with confusion and pain. She takes a step toward me, hesitates, then walks to the back of the store. Her three friends follow her.
Without meaning to, I rub one wrist as though it were still hurting. Jordan’s gaze drops to it.
I jerk my hand away. “I’ll meet you outside the store.”
She returns the slip to the rack. “I’ll come with you.”
I give her a shaky smile. “I just need a moment. I’ll wait for you.”
Jordan nods as if she understands but there’s no missing the hurt in her eyes. She wants to know what’s going on and I can’t tell her. Not yet.
“I’ll be fine. It’s no big deal. It’s just...it’s just an anxiety attack. I used to get them all the time at home.” It’s partly true, and at least it I don’t have to tell her why I get them. “I’ll meet you outside the store once you’re finished and we can get ice cream.” This time my smile is genuine. I really do want ice cream. Paul hated the stuff.
A middle-aged woman, eyelids heavy with sparkly blue eye shadow, approaches Jordan. “Do you need help finding anything?”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I glance back at Emma, who’s busy looking through a rack of fleecy pajama bottoms, then walk out the store and into the solid wall of a person.
“Kitten,” the wall says as I step back. Marcus’s gaze jumps to the store’s name and his mouth slides into an amused grin. “You don’t need to get sexy underwear for our tutoring sessions, but I won’t say I don’t appreciate it.”
“Ass,” I mutter, momentarily forgetting the ass helped me learn a math concept I’d been struggling with.
“Anything to make you happy, Kitten.”
I somehow manage not to roll my eyes at the name. Telling him not to call me that hasn’t helped. It’s only encouraged him to use the name more. I narrow my eyes instead. “I thought you said you weren’t stalking me.”
“I’m not.” He lifts a plastic bag from the bookstore, and removes a book with a teenage girl and a male angel on the cover. “I was buying a birthday present for my friend’s sister. And now that you mention it, how do I know you’re not stalking
me
?”
From the corner of my eye, I spot a guy checking me out. Marcus brushes a strand of hair from my face. I flinch when his fingers touch my cheek, but then I see the other guy scurry away.
I think of Marcus’s reputation for not getting attached, of the way he jumped between me and that guy at the party. I take a deep breath, almost positive that what I’m about to do is incredibly stupid. “What are you doing Friday night?”