Spitfire in Love

by Isabelle Ronin

  “I’ll see you later,” he murmured, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. “Kara.”

  * * *

  My heart was still beating a crazy rhythm by the time I reached my lecture hall. I chose a seat in the back, sitting behind a tall guy so I could hide. Just in case I needed to take a quick nap. Although at the rate my heart was skipping, I’d be awake till Christmas.

  He was a master manipulator of my senses, I realized as I caught myself touching my bottom lip. Trying to re-create the way he’d brushed his thumb over it. Trying to remember the feeling of his kiss a few minutes ago in my car. The kiss that wasn’t really a kiss.

  It was so different from…our first one. But no less powerful. Not at all.

  I looked around the hall, checking if someone had read my thoughts or could read my face. Most of the students were listening to the professor standing on the podium, his hands animated as he explained something to the class.

  “What does it take for you to accept kindness? Or do you just really not trust me?”

  Maybe he was right. I was too harsh on him. I shouldn’t have responded that way. There was something about him that activated my defensive mode.

  Maybe because I knew he could take it. He wouldn’t be put off by it. Or was I trying to put him off with it? Testing to see how long he could go until he gave up and left?

  Because the truth was I liked him.

  I liked him.

  And I didn’t want to.

  But that was my problem, I realized as the professor dismissed the class. Rejecting someone who was trying to be kind to me, as he’d put it, was vicious. And my dad didn’t raise me to be like that.

  Although the guy didn’t make it easy when he started bossing me around. I was used to bossing people around, not the other way around. I guessed we were similar in that regard, so it was only natural we’d butt heads. But, I thought as I let out a sigh of resignation, I knew that I’d stepped out of line.

  Contrite, I fished my phone from my pocket. I bit my lip as I scrolled to his name in my inbox, read his only text from last night.

  8 am tomorrow. My place.

  A man of few words. What should I text him to let him know I wanted a truce? Did I want one?

  A few of the classes in the lecture halls had ended. Students filled the corridor, some heading to their next class in another building, others hanging out to chat and blocking the way. Since I didn’t want to squish between them, I leaned against the wall and started typing him a message.

  Want some food?

  Erase.

  Need a ride after class?

  Erase.

  Are you over your period cramps?

  Erase. He might think I was looking for another fight with that one.

  This was hard. All the tips and tricks I’d read about men in magazines flew out the window when I was faced with an actual one. I needed to brush up on the subject again.

  Frustrated, I combed my fingers through my hair and looked up. The hallway was now empty, as if the fire alarm had rung and everyone had escaped except for a few rebels who believed it was only a drill.

  My eyes scanned the space.

  And froze.

  There he was, sitting on a bench outside the lecture hall in the corner. He sat like a maverick. Sprawled, really. He leaned back lazily, long legs spread, muscular arms propped on the back of the bench.

  The rain had stopped, and the sun had finally come out of hiding. Its light pierced through the skylight, kissing his hair and turning the color to blue black.

  This was where I’d first seen him.

  I saw two guys walk up to him. A short, muscular guy with spikes in his blond hair and the gorgeous Caleb Lockhart. Popular basketball player slash Lothario who was rumored to have boned every gorgeous blond on campus.

  They were joking around, hitting him on the arm. His mouth moved a little, a hint of a smile, but he remained the way he was. A little aloof, as if he was selfish with his personal space, and a lot sexy.

  “Hi, Cam!”

  A beautiful redhead as short as my thumb sashayed in front of him. She bent down, her torpedo cleavage in his face, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissed him straight smack on the lips.

  And then his eyes lifted and met mine.

  Motherfucker.

  * * *

  Cameron

  “Saint Laurent!”

  I almost missed the ball when it zoomed in front of me. I grabbed it before it hit my face, spun around, and took my shot.

  “Stop daydreaming, asshole!” Caleb called out, laughing. I gave him the finger in the spirit of friendship.

  Another hour went by, and another, and my lungs and legs were screaming for me to take a break, but I kept going. I loved the burn, the distraction from my dark thoughts. And darker mood.

  It made me stop focusing on the missed call I’d gotten just as I’d pushed away the redhead. I was going to go after Kara, but that missed call had stopped everything in my world for a moment. It was from the person I was hoping wouldn’t contact me for a while. Or forever. But that was asking too much.

  Coach blew the whistle, ending practice. I lifted my shirt to rub the sweat off my face. I was out of breath, bending as I propped my hands on my legs to slow down my breathing.

  “You got good game, son!” Levi slapped my back as he headed to the showers.

  I took off my shirt, slung it over my shoulder.

  “Cam!”

  I caught the bottle of water Caleb threw at me. He motioned for me to go ahead without him. He was talking to a couple of girls on the sideline. It looked like he was going to be a while.

  I twisted the cap, glugged water, and just for the hell of it, poured some on my head to cool off.

  “Hey, Cam.”

  I turned. It was the redhead. I was an asshole for not even remembering her name. What was it again? Lisa? Maria?

  “It’s Siobhan.”

  “Hey.”

  She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Do you want to hang out in my dorm tonight?”

  “Listen,” I said, raking my fingers in my hair. The water dripped on my shoulders and back. I just wanted a damn shower. “That night was fun, but that’s all it was. I thought you weren’t looking for anything else.”

  Her lip curled into a sneer. “I’m not. Bye, then. Asshole.” She gave me the finger and walked away.

  Before I could respond, I felt a kick in my ass and turned.

  “Hey, hey!” Justin sniggered. “You’re hoarding all the girls! Ya gotta leave some for me, dickhead.”

  I narrowed my eyes, feeling the heat shoot through my veins.

  “Do that again. I fucking dare you.”

  He looked shocked, then raised his hands, palms up. “Someone’s got her panties in a twist.”

  I curled my hands into fists, got in his face. “Say that again?”

  Justin backed off, looking behind him for help. “I was kidding! Dude, chill.”

  “Cam.” It was Caleb. “Cool off.”

  I looked down, flexed my fists. What the hell was wrong with me?

  The guys were looking at me like I’d sprung a leak in my brain. They weren’t used to seeing my temper. I was usually coolheaded around them, usually shrugged off their ribbing.

  But those days had been free of her, Raven. I headed to the shower, turned on the cold water. Even after not seeing her for years, she still had the power to tie my guts into a knot just by a single missed call. What could she want now?

  I had changed my number a few times, but she always found a way to get it. My father probably gave it to her just to get her off his back.

  “Hey, bro.” Justin tossed me a towel just as I wrapped one around my waist. “Didn’t know you didn’t like your ass kicked. Sorry. About earlier, I mean.” His voice still held r
esentment from what happened, but I didn’t blame him.

  “Yeah. Me too,” I said and let it go. I walked to my locker, using the towel he gave me to rub my hair. A sign of peace.

  I felt exhausted but not better. I already knew what was coming in the next few days. Dread was already pooling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Need a ride?” Caleb asked as I pulled on my pants.

  “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

  The light from my phone sucked the breath out of me, but I saw the screen before I could dismiss it.

  Spitfire: I’m in the gym, sicko.

  The knots in my stomach started to loosen. As soon as I saw her text, my shoulders released a tightness I hadn’t even been aware I was holding.

  “Hot date?” Caleb asked. He saw me smiling.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Really hot.”

  And when I saw her waiting on the bleachers, I grinned.

  “Hungry?” I called out to her.

  “No.” She jumped off the bleachers as soon as she saw me, throwing her backpack over her shoulder. “I want to drop your ass home, so I can do the hundred errands I need to do.”

  I wondered if she was even aware that she was still wearing my sweater. She’d folded up the arms a few times, but it still reached her wrists. It gave me a warm feeling in my stomach seeing her in my clothes.

  She wasn’t wearing her glasses anymore, but she had her hair up in a ponytail again. It swung back and forth as she walked ahead of me. Damn, how cute was that?

  I wanted to hold her hair in my fist, feel the softness of it in my fingers. Did it smell like peaches too?

  “It’s late,” I said, walking beside her, matching her steps. “What do you need to do?”

  “I need to find the cure for cancer.”

  “What about bullheadedness?”

  “That’s next.”

  My mouth twitched. She always had a comeback for everything. I wanted to come up with something stupid to pester her with just to hear what she was going to say.

  “Hold up,” I said when she kept walking toward the exit. “I need a drink.”

  I went to the vending machine. It was two dollars and fifty cents for a bottle. Just as I was inserting the last dollar, I curled it in my palm, and hid it in my pocket.

  “Got a dollar?”

  She huffed out an impatient breath. “Why didn’t you just text me that you wanted a drink? I could’ve saved myself a dollar. Here.” She threw it at me.

  I caught it easily. She didn’t look impressed.

  “Don’t choke on it,” she added. She looked like she wanted me to do the opposite. She was in a bad mood, her movements punchy. I popped open the lid, heard the fizz, and took a sip. “You can bring me a drink next time.”

  “Says who?”

  I opened the door leading to the parking lot, let her pass first. “Well, start bringing a dollar or two for me every time you pick me up then.”

  She shot me a glare that could boil water before opening the car door with her key. It wasn’t automatic. Once she was inside, she had to reach over and unlock the passenger side.

  She looked really pissed. I reached for the dollar in my pocket and rolled it around my fingers before I slid into the passenger seat.

  “Kara.”

  She didn’t respond but placed her key in the ignition.

  “Wait,” I said, reaching for her hand. It was cold. I wanted to warm it up between my hands, but I knew she wouldn’t let me. Slowly and gently, I unfurled her fingers one by one, savoring the feel of her skin, wanting to linger, wanting to caress, but I stopped myself.

  Her eyes were wide as they searched my face and dropped when I placed the dollar on her palm.

  “I was just kidding,” I murmured.

  Her gaze lifted to mine. And I knew she felt it too.

  God, I wanted to kiss her.

  The noise from a group of students exiting the building broke the moment. She moved away and drew a deep breath.

  “Don’t talk to me,” she said and turned the radio on high before starting the car and zipping out of the parking lot.

  I just smiled. Fine by me. It was enough to be around her.

  Her car looked cleaner and smelled fresher too. Hopefully got her useless brother to detail it for her this afternoon maybe. The seats were still a little damp, but I didn’t mind. I could sit on a rock for all I cared if she was beside me.

  I cranked the window open a little, letting the wind swirl in the car. Watching it tease her ponytail. What would she do if I pulled it, releasing her hair so it could flow down her back and shoulders?

  She’d probably open my door and push me out.

  She threw me a worried look when I chuckled.

  I watched her hands for a moment. She had long fingers and nails painted hot pink. I wondered if she’d painted her toes the same color.

  Her hands were capable on the wheel. She drove a little over the speed limit. With her music way up high. She was singing under her breath, and I wished I could hear her.

  But right now was enough for me. More than enough.

  The drive felt too quick as she parked at the edge of my driveway.

  “Sayonara,” she said. “Off you go. Back to the pits of hell.”

  I turned the radio down.

  “You want to come in?”

  “You want to live?”

  I looked at her, daring her to come inside.

  “Tell me why you’re in a bad mood, Kara.”

  Her fingers tapped on the wheel impatiently. “Every time I’m around the spawn of Satan, I’m in a bad mood.”

  “It’s not because you saw a girl kiss me earlier, is it?”

  She sputtered. The play of emotions on her face was a joy to watch. “Pardon the hell out of me but I think it’s time for your drugs, boyo. The voices in your head are getting out of control again.”

  “I didn’t kiss her back.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Hazel fire.

  Spitfire.

  “I don’t even remember her name.”

  “And what does that say about you?” she asked.

  “That I’m an asshole.”

  “That’s right. Shoo. Go away now.” She waved her hand.

  “I’ve never claimed otherwise, but”—I leaned close, and when she leaned away, I leaned closer, until our faces were inches apart—“you make me want to be something else.”

  Her eyes turned glassy, and I could hear her trying not to breathe.

  “You sure you don’t want to come in?” I whispered. “Re-create your first kiss?”

  She turned red. Fucking adorable. She recovered quickly, snorting derisively. “You call that a kiss?”

  Now I smiled. She was challenging me.

  “Why don’t you let me show you?”

  “Get off me, creep.”

  “I haven’t touched you. Yet,” I pointed out. “And you weren’t saying that last time when you were on top of me.” I knew I was being a dick, but she was too adorable not to tease.

  I waited for her cutting remark, but she didn’t say anything. I could feel the sharp edges of her temper whirling around her in waves, but she just bristled in her seat, glaring at me. I almost laughed out loud when I slid out of her car.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said easily, almost smugly. “Same time.”

  As soon as I closed the door, she reversed her car a few feet away. I paused, watched her curiously. What was she up to?

  We stared at each other for five seconds. Then she pointed two fingers in a V toward her eyes before pointing them back at me, the universal sign for I’m watching you.

  It was too late before I realized.

  Her tires spun, roared, and accelerated, splashing a giant puddle I hadn’t noticed. Dirty, muddy rainwater from last night’s
downpour sprayed all over me. I could feel the grittiness of it dripping down my face and my neck.

  I wiped my face and mouth with the back of my hand. Then I cursed her. I saw her give me the finger as she drove away.

  And then I laughed.

  Missing her already.

  Man, oh man. I was in big trouble.

  Chapter 17

  Cameron

  I woke up hungry.

  But that was nothing unusual. I always woke up with my body craving food.

  I groaned as I sat up on the couch where I slept. Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on my knees and rubbed my face with my hands.

  The sun wasn’t up yet. Working for Rick since high school had programmed my brain to wake up the same time every day. I didn’t even set up the alarm anymore.

  I got up, folded my blanket, and tried to reach the itch on my back, but it was too far away.

  “Shit.”

  Normally I’d do my workouts first—it was easier to lift weights when my stomach was empty—but sometimes I gave in to more basic urges.

  I turned on the lights, staggered my way into the kitchen still sleepy, still trying to reach that itch with my fingers. Then my stomach growled.

  I opened the fridge, grabbed one of the boxed takeout meals I must have had this week—hopefully. Sniffed it. Smelled okay.

  Pulling open a drawer, I reached for a fork, used that to scratch the itch—damn, that felt good. Wolfed down the food.

  When that didn’t satisfy me, I got a bowl and poured cereal and milk and ate that too. Still hungry. Grabbed a couple of bananas. Crunched on an apple. I made a mental note to buy some peaches at the store.

  Is she still sleeping?

  She was probably still asleep, I thought as I took a leak, then turned on the shower, closing my eyes as the warm water washed away the rest of the sleep from my body.

  And once she woke up, I imagined her going straight for her cup of coffee, bumping into walls on the way to the kitchen.

  Hair in disarray. Clothes rumpled. Skin warm. Lips soft. What did she wear to bed? Did she wear anything at all?

  I got out of the shower, reached for the towel, and wrapped it around my waist. Brushed my teeth, reached for the razor to shave. I wondered what she’d feel like, smell like in the morning.