A Penny's Worth (The Cephas Bourdon Series)

by A. M. Hooper

  "Don't tell me to grow up. You're the one who's immature!" His gumption began to grow. "Yeah, yeah. You're always trying to change me. What kind of a relationship is that?" He seemed proud of himself for coming up with a good excuse for his behavior. This was the moment in which I would usually relent and accept Chase’s apology, but I suddenly thought of Cephas. ‘I won’t always be around to save you,’ he had said. He was right; he wouldn’t always be around, and neither would Chase. I had to start defending myself at some point, and I had the gumption right now to do so.

  "You're right. It's not a good relationship. You drink, party with your friends, and treat me like I'm the worst thing that ever happened to you. Then you blame me for all of your screw-ups. And you know what? I don't want to change you anymore. I want to get rid of you. So just turn around, walk out the door, and go home." He looked indignant and nearly as fed up as did I.

  "What are you saying?" he asked, eying me suspiciously. I couldn't believe I'd been dating such an idiot.

  "It's over, Chase. I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore." The words sounded harsh, even to me, but it was the truth.

  "You're gonna regret this!" he warned, pointing his finger at me before he marched out the door and slammed it behind him. The slam was resounding, affirming the end of a long relationship. I kind of liked it. I walked upstairs and fell instantly asleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  He had rejected me. I had been too forward, and he rejected me. He probably didn't even like me. He could choose any girl in the world—why not choose one of those gorgeous blondes that I spotted dancing around him yesterday? I was stupid to think someone as dashing and captivating as Cephas Bourdon would go for me. He probably just saved me out of obligation, then walked with me so I wouldn't feel so stupid. I scowled at my own ignorant hopes and changed the channel. It was five, and the news wasn't taking my mind off of anything. I flipped rapidly through the channels as a fly landed on my arm. I tried to flick the fly away, but it escaped my vengeance. I looked up at the television. A man was talking about something—sports? The screen read ESPN.

  "Today, during a practice game, a fight broke out between Miami Heath's point guard, Derek Londersall, and an official. Londersall claims the referee made a bad call with no probable cause. The accusation infuriated the official, who threw Londersall out of the game. But it didn't stop there. Londerall began swinging at the official, accusing him of throwing games on purpose! Londersall will be . . ."

  I switched the channel. Sports players always seemed so dramatic. Why did Londersall care anyway? He would still get paid.

  “What are you so mad about?" came the voice of my father as he walked into the living room from the kitchen.

  "I'm home for not even an hour and your ecstasy at my return has already vanished," he complained, mocking my bad mood. I rolled my eyes and continued flipping through the channels.

  "So," he continued. "That ground really showed you what was up, eh?" He nodded toward the ice pack I held against my cheek. I looked away.

  "Yeah, landed right on my face," I chuckled nervously. I hoped he wouldn't see through my lie. I think he might have murdered Chase if he knew what had happened.

  "How was Atlanta—really." I pried. He rarely ever went on a business trip without a good story. My dad was quite the catch; from his brown, messy hair to his broad shoulders, combined with his impeccable sense of style, women were always after him. He moved a glass of ice water to his mouth, ignoring me.

  "C'mon, Dad!" I whined, "Who did you meet this time?" He chuckled, and then sobered.

  "Em, you know I could never do that. It's so close to the day—" he stopped and choked back his emotion. My mom was killed in a car accident. It would be two years on Tuesday. I mechanically changed the subject.

  "So, tell me about your trip," I declared, telling more than asking. "Did you give an amazing speech?" My dad smiled.

  ****

  The hall was silent. Students studied busily in their classrooms in preparation for final exams. The school year would end in two weeks, but seniors never had difficult finals. We just enjoyed our last two weeks of school. The hall was silent, except for Marian's non-stop chatting. I glanced through each door as we meandered through the quiet hall, looking for anything interesting.

  "So, oh my gosh, girl! Are you so stoked for senior trip?" Marian's high ponytail bobbed up and down as she bounced with excitement. "Did you hear they need one more chaperone? My mom was like, 'do you want me to go?' and I was like, 'No way!' I mean, that would be so awkward!"

  "For sure," I replied. "I wouldn't want my dad to go either. Where's the fun in that?" Marian giggled in agreement.

  "Except your dad is a major hunk," Marian commented dramatically. I rolled my eyes.

  "Shut up. You're so weird," I responded, though I knew she was right. Nobody would mind if my dad went on the trip, but that totally wasn't going to happen. Marian blabbed on about her great plans for our trip, but I tuned her out. I glanced through the next door: biology.

  "Girl, are you even listening to me?" Marian demanded. I looked up at her expectant face, trying to suppress a giggle.

  "Sorry," I began. "I just—" I stopped walking. Peering into the computer lab, I saw Cephas sitting at a cubicle, looking quite frustrated.

  I heard Marian gasp beside me. "Is that the guy who beat the crap out of Cephas?" I tried to shush her excitement.

  "Yes," I responded, unable to keep the smile from my face. Marian made everything more exciting than it really was.

  "Well, go talk to him!" she demanded, pushing me toward the door.

  "I can't!" I argued in a hushed tone.

  "Why not?" Marian countered, still attempting to shove me through the door.

  "Because—the other day I—" I froze in place. Cephas had glanced up in the commotion and was looking right at me. He looked down and I could see the corner of his mouth twitching upward. I glared at Marian and walked into the computer lab, trying to ignore the giggling behind me. Cephas looked up at me from his chair and gestured toward the seat next to him.

  "Been getting into trouble?” he asked, staring at the computer screen. His fingers moved rapidly over the keys for a moment, then he waited for the screen to load. I nervously tucked my curled hair behind my ear, then looked at his computer screen.

  "What are you doing?" I asked. "I thought you only came in on Tuesdays." He spun back and forth in his chair, swiveling on the wheels while he concentrated on the screen in front of him.

  "Yeah, well, I had to finish up some things concerning my parents. My uncle's old house doesn't have the internet, and this is the only place where it's free." He smiled and looked up at me. "Except everything's blocked on here. I can't even get into my email account." He seemed bewildered by such a thing. Didn't he know all schools blocked nearly all websites?

  "You can use the internet at my house," I blurted out, then blushed. Why did I always have to be so forward with him? He wouldn't want to come over to my—

  "Really? You'd let me do that?" He seemed surprised.

  "Of course. My dad doesn't get home till six, so you don't even have to worry about meeting him."

  "Should I be worried?" he asked, skeptical.

  "Well, he can be quite protective," I replied.

  "So can I," he replied. I allowed a smile to creep across my face.

  "That's true,” I agreed, blushing.

  "How long ‘til you get out of school?" he asked.

  "Oh," I responded, trying to gain my wit. "I, uh, that is—" I looked up at Marian who was nodding her head frantically and waving a thumbs up. How did she even hear what I was saying? I stifled a laugh and answered, "I'm already done with class. We don't have a ton of stuff to do at the end of the year."

  "So you can leave right now?" he asked, looking excited.

  "Sure," I responded. He stood from his chair and pulled a flash drive from the computer.

  "You're a lifesaver," he replied. I saw his forearms flex as he lifted
a bag from the floor. I turned around to keep my ecstatic reaction hidden. I walked calmly out of the room with Cephas close behind me.

  "I'll meet ya at the door," I offered, noticing Marian's signal toward me. I was sure this was going to be good advice. I walked over to her and she whispered in my ear.

  "Oh my gosh, girl! He is sooo hot on you! I even saw him checkin' out your butt a second ago!" Her quiet voice wasn't so quiet anymore. I rolled my eyes and turned to leave.

  "No, wait!" she beckoned, pulling me back to her. "Whatever you do, don't kiss him. He has to kiss you first!" she said emphatically.

  "I'll try to keep that in mind," I offered, rolling my eyes. She was bouncing up and down, waving frantically with excitement. She was like a little jumping bean. Weirdo.

  "So, shall we walk?" I asked.

  "Oh, no, I've got a car," he offered. I nodded, following him to the exit. He pushed open the tall glass door and let me step out onto the cement patio. We walked down the steps and into the parking lot. I stopped.

  "That's—your car?" I asked, completely shocked. I squinted my eyes, taking in the shining orange paint and sleek, aerodynamic design. Low profile tires filled the wheel wells, chrome wheels completing the effect. I heard a click behind me, and the door lifted upward. The word Lamborghini caught my eye, though the label wasn’t necessary, except perhaps to confirm that the car was reality.

  "Benefit of a tragic experience," Cephas offered casually, grinning as he stepped into the beautiful car. I climbed in the passenger side and sat on fresh leather. Running my hand across the sleek dash, I started as the door automatically closed next to me.

  "You ever been in one of these?" he asked, eying me sideways as he turned the key in the ignition. A low hum sounded underneath the hood, though it disappeared beneath the sound system that roared to life. I watched, completely at a loss for words, as Cephas hit a few keys on the deck and proceeded to put the car in drive. The car purred out of the parking lot, gliding down the street.

  "No, I haven't," I replied.

  "Haven't what?" he asked curiously.

  "Been in—never mind," I replied. I clapped my hands out of sheer ecstasy, then realized Cephas was still next to me. "This car is amazing!" I praised aloud.

  "Wait until I show you what it can do," he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

  "What can it do?" I asked, surprised there was more.

  "You'll just have to wait and see," he smirked. I inspected the interior in complete disbelief as we drove the short distance to my home. We pulled into my driveway and he turned off the engine.

  "Already got it memorized, eh?" I asked, stepping out of the vehicle. I walked up the pathway, thinking about what Marian had said about Cephas looking at my butt. Was he looking now? I blushed and walked quickly up the steps, fumbling to put my keys in the slot. After a little trouble, I heaved the door open and walked a little ways down the hall. I dropped my bag on the hall table and flipped on a light switch, then maneuvered around the oversized sectional that filled the family room. A nice, sturdy desk stood against the far wall, contrasting with the old computer that nearly filled the desk space. With the push of a button, the computer roared to life. I gestured toward the computer for Cephas’ use.

  "Sorry it's ancient," I explained. "My dad says if we have a slow computer I'll be less likely to use it; some study he read about. It's kinda true. But, you can access pretty much everything," I smiled. Cephas smiled back and sat at the desk. He began typing busily, so I walked over to the kitchen.

  "You hungry?" I asked.

  "That depends. Can you cook?" He asked. He always seemed to have something to say to everything. I looked at him indignantly.

  "Guess you'll just have to wait and see," I replied, turning my nose up at him. I began to throw a few things in the mixer. We were both silent for a few minutes, each busy about our own tasks.

  "So," he began, talking across the room. "You ready for senior trip?" That was in two days, wasn't it.

  "I suppose." Then a thought occurred to me. "Are you going?"

  "Yeah I am, actually. They told me I could go for some reason." I tried not to sound too excited.

  "Really?" No success. I looked up and saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward into a smirk. I scowled. Why did he have to be so full of himself?

  "I hear they need another chaperone. Marian said I should ask my dad to go, but I don't think I want him to come with us." Did that sound like I meant us, like, Cephas and me? Dang. "That is, I—"

  "Yeah, that would be really awkward if your dad came," he agreed. His fingers typed rapidly across the keyboard. I wondered what he was typing as I slid the pan into the oven and set the timer. I walked into the living room and plopped onto the overstuffed couch, holding a pillow between my arms.

  "What are you typing?" I asked. He clicked on the x at the top right corner and spun in the chair.

  "Nothing anymore," he replied. "I'm all finished. What are you cooking in there? It smells amazing."

  "Oh, just some cookies," I nodded toward the kitchen. "Chocolate chip."

  "Mmmm, those are my favorite," he replied ecstatically. "You know, I've been thinking. I don't know very much about you. What do you want to do when you grow up?" That was sort of an odd question.

  "Oh, I don't know."

  "Come on—a girl like you doesn't know what she's doing with her life?" He eyed me suspiciously. "Or she thinks that I'll think it's silly." I looked away from his searching eyes, trying not to blush.

  "I want to be a reporter," I muttered. "Like my mom. But that's a hard line of work to get into, so I don't know, I'll probably just be, I don't know . . . something else."

  "That's awesome. Find the scum in the world and reveal them to the public?" he asked. His voice was cold, and his eyes were that gray color again, like when he had pummeled Chase.

  "Something like that. What about you?" I asked. He glanced up, his eyes wide with surprise.

  "I'll uh, well, I want to be . . . in the CIA," he replied, mischief hinting in his eyes.

  "Why?" I asked. His character always changed so suddenly. Cold and angry to mischievous and playful.

  "Well, you know . . . then I could take down villains and save beautiful girls from certain death." He smirked.

  "And how's that coming along?" I jested.

  "Well," he stood, taking a few steps toward me. "I've taken a few defense courses. Stand up and I'll show you." I tossed the pillow aside, standing cautiously. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

  "What do I do?" I asked, unsure of how to stand.

  "Just try to punch me," he instructed. I laughed.

  "No way!" I argued.

  "Just do it!" he countered playfully. "Come on, it will be fun."

  "Okay, okay." I took a stance and held up my arms. He smirked at my stance, and I giggled in return. "Don't make fun of me!" I argued hopelessly.

  "Sorry, it's just kind of . . . cute . . . when you're attempting a serious attitude." Cute? That wasn’t good, was it? I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath, then held it so I wouldn't laugh or blush. I jutted my arm toward his midsection, but he grabbed my hand and twisted me around. My body was backed up against his.

  "Now," he whispered in my ear, "try to get out of my hold."

  "I can't," I argued, trying not to giggle.

  "Try," he taunted. He only held my wrists loosely, so I ducked beneath my arms. He turned me and pinned my body against the nearest wall. His body nearly crushed mine as he held my hands at my side.

  "Now there's no escape," he gloated, his eyes burning into mine. My chest heaved up and down, and I could feel his heart pulsing through my body. I shoved the emotion out of my mind, intent on besting my arrogant captor.

  "See, I'd be a good CIA agent," he prodded. His body moved closer to mine, if that was possible. His lips parted a little and I smiled, feeling his breathing increase. He released one of my wrists and ran his hand through my hair. I looked toward the kitchen, focusing on the timer. Raising my m
outh upward, I allowed my lips to linger near his. 3 – 2 – 1. The timer beeped, signaling the end of the cooking cycle, and I ducked out from under Cephas’ body. He was so startled that my escape was quite easily performed. I ran to the kitchen and turned off the timer, turning in time to see Cephas running toward me. I began laughing.

  "Some CIA agent! I just needed a little distraction is all," I boasted. "How are you going to rescue beautiful girls from certain death when a timer startles you?" I pulled the pan of cookies from the oven and set them on the stove.

  "Well, ideally, the beautiful girl won't be trying to distract me while I’m saving her," he argued from behind me. I smirked, turning to face him as I removed the oven mitt from my hand.

  "Perhaps you just need to keep your focus," I chastised.

  "Yeah, that's never been a problem for me," he praised himself, stepping closer to me, holding my gaze. "Until now," he whispered. I swallowed as I felt his arm go behind me. He held my gaze, moving his face closer to mine. Taking a deep breath, I stared into his eyes, wondering if now would be our first kiss. He leaped backwards, taking a bite of a large chocolate chip cookie.

  "Ah!" I exclaimed indignantly. "You stole a cookie!"

  "Yeah, maybe your focus needs a little work," he concluded through a full mouth. I rolled my eyes and began scooping cookies onto a plate. Trying to ignore Cephas’ staring eyes, I poured two glasses of milk. Cephas grabbed the glasses of milk and I carried the plate of cookies. We walked into the living room and I sat on the couch. Cephas sat right next to me. His tempting scent wafted to my nose, mixing with the fragrance of fresh, chocolate chip cookies. My lungs inhaled instinctively and I adjusted my position to face Cephas.

  "So, how many girls have you arrested with your ravishing looks and pleasant charm?" I asked, brows raised. He looked quite startled, pausing midway to biting into a cookie.

  "That's quite the question, or assumption, rather," he replied, taking a swig from his glass of milk. He eyed me suspiciously and then continued. "I don't hang out with women, er, that is, girls, very often. I'm usually quite busy."