Zane (The Powers That Be, Book 6)

by Harper Bentley

  “You go to Hallervan?” he’d leaned down and asked, and, God, those eyes, that face… that body. My lord he was hot.

  “Starting this semester,” I answered still trying to pull my door closed.

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky and see me.” He winked then walked away.

  “One can only hope,” I’d mumbled, rolling my eyes again, before closing my door and driving away.

  It was then I looked down and saw my ruined outfit and sandals only then remembering I had an old pair of Keds and a raincoat under the passenger seat. Great.

  First Semester: First Week

  I was excited for school, ready to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist. I’d played a year of basketball at Southwest Idaho University, but I’d won a coveted scholarship that would pay for a huge hunk of the cost to attend Hallervan (which had a better journalism department) the next three years, so Dad couldn’t complain too much about my wanting to go here. He’d been proud of me but had also been worried because Seattle was a good twelve and a half hours away from the small town of Stone Springs, Idaho, where I’d grown up. But one of my brothers had helped with that since he was attending law school in Moscow, Idaho, which was clear across the state from our hometown, and he’d told Dad that he’d only be five hours from me and that had finalized it. Kind of. Dad had still made me promise to check in with him on a regular basis. I’d agreed because I loved my dad and also because my family was close and I couldn’t imagine not talking to any of them at least every few weeks.

  My brothers were four and seven years older than I was, which made me the baby, hence Dad’s reluctance to let me go. Heath was the oldest, (his full name was actually Heathcliff) my other brother was Holden and I was Scout. As you probably gathered, our mother had been an avid reader and named us after her favorite literary characters. I’d never known her because she’d died when I was three but I’d always felt her absence in our lives due to all the pictures of her in our house and especially when Dad or one of my brothers brought her up, sharing stories of times I’d never known or didn’t remember. When I was seven, I’d asked my dad why he’d never remarried. He’d gotten a faraway look in his eyes and told me that once you found your reason to breathe, no one else could “pass muster.” I hadn’t understood at the time, but it sounded romantic, so I’d let it go.

  So, back to our names. Although I thought they were cool, Heath despised his, even though his broody spells said the name fit him perfectly. But he’d taken a lot of crap from the other kids for it when he was little, so when I was old enough to know what it meant, I told him his name sounded prestigious and it would look great on business cards someday. He’d laughed at that saying he hoped that all the hell he’d gotten for it would eventually pay off. He was now a software developer in Boise, a job for which he was getting paid bank, so I’d say he’d more than vindicated himself for being picked on. Matter of fact, he was making so much money, he even co-signed for a loan with Dad for our farm. Dad, of course, had balked, but Heath had insisted, telling Dad the money would likely just go to more beer, so Dad had half-jokingly given in for the sake of Heath’s sobriety. My other brother Holden, who lived up to his namesake in the fact that he was a deep thinker (and also quite the party boy), was twenty-four, a huge ladies man and was the one in law school who’d convinced Dad to let me come to Seattle. And I’m Scout. I think I’ve done a decent job living up to my name because I’ve always been a tomboy and Dad says I’ve also always been fairly precocious.

  So there I sat in psychology class on the first day, when to my utter shock (and annoyance), Tire Change Dude walked in. And, damn it, he was even better looking out of the rain.

  He had on a gray short-sleeved Godsmack t-shirt over a long-sleeved black tee, hiding the full sleeves of tattoos that I knew he had, but I could still see part of a tattoo peeking out at the left side of his neck. I saw that his hair was actually a dark caramel-color, not quite as dark as the rain had made it appear, and he wore it in a fade cut with long bangs spiked up in the front. His faded jeans sat low on his hips and he wore brown, lace-up boots. He also had on black reading glasses, and jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, he looked good.

  I immediately turned my head away, scratching myself on the neck nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. I then heard a guy several rows behind and a few seats to the left of me holler “Yo!” and I turned slightly to see Tattoo Dude raise his head in a nod at him then he came up the stairs and passed right by me and, damn it, I couldn’t not look. His eyes caught mine but they looked right through me, no recognition in them at all, which I oddly found was kind of disappointing.

  As I sat waiting for class to begin, I listened to the two guys talking and, boy, did I learn a lot. First of all, tire dude’s name was Gable. I hadn’t remembered what his girlfriend had called him that day in the rain, but now it clicked. Secondly, I found out they’d had a party the weekend before and Gable had gotten so wasted that he’d woken up in bed with three girls, so I guessed the classy babe with him when I had a flat wasn’t his girlfriend after all. Thirdly, I now knew he was thinking of getting another tattoo, probably “Luctor et emergo” on his right pec, which I knew was Latin but had no clue what it meant. The guy with him was just as clueless, asking about it, but Gable had remained close-mouthed. Fourthly, their poker game had been changed from Wednesday night to Thursday. And fifthly, who the fuck was the hot blonde piece of tail sitting in front of him with legs that went on for miles that he wouldn’t mind having wrapped around his head?

  He had to be kidding. Who said stuff like that in public? And did he really think that’d land him a girl? Wow. I inspected the classroom for the poor blond girl he was talking so rudely about, but most of the girls I saw had dark hair. Then I felt something hit the side of my head, and frowning, turned to see him and his friend ogling me as the wadded paper one of them had thrown landed in my lap.

  The friend jerked his chin up at me. “What’s up? Hey, did you fall from the sky because let’s have sex.”

  I stared at him for a moment before scrunching up my face and saying, “Seriously?” Really, who talked that way?

  Gable’s eyes narrowed then. “I know you.” I squinted my eyes right back at him then he snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Tire girl. Miss Priss.” And he gave me that lopsided grin.

  I rolled my eyes and turned away because I was embarrassed by the whole encounter. I was also flustered at the fact that my heart was beating ninety-to-nothing and my nipples had gotten hard at just seeing him grin at me. God.

  The professor had now come in and started taking roll, so I kept my attention on her, ignoring the fact that I could feel Gable’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my head. I wanted to turn to him and frown, maybe even give him the finger, but I knew that’d just get me another nipple-hardening grin so I stayed facing forward. But as I sat there, using every ounce of restraint I could to keep from looking at him, I realized I was actually flattered by what he’d said about me, and it horrified me that I’d feel that way about being objectified and I wanted to smack myself in the head as I tried figuring out where my self-respect had gone.

  During roll call, I learned that his last name was Powers. Oh, boy, he was one of them. The them I’d been hearing about since stepping onto campus. And he was flirting with me. Well, wasn’t I the lucky one. Unable to help being curious about this latest bit of info and wanting to know if he really was as good looking as everyone had been saying (I mean, I’d seen him but hadn’t known who he was so I hadn’t really seen him seen him), I risked a glance over my left shoulder at him only to find him gazing right back at me with a lazy grin. Holy crap! I turned around quickly and promptly swallowed my gum on the breath I’d sucked in at getting caught. As I choked out a cough, I decided he was as hot as everyone had been saying, and I also decided I was an idiot to mess with him. Although very handsome, he was uncouth, rude and too wild for the likes of me and I needed to stay far, far away from him, which I told myself
I’d do.

  So why the hell did that make him even more intriguing?

  ~*~*~*~

  Class finally ended with the professor stating that she was going to have us participate in an experiment which had us being pen pals with another psychology student from any of her classes, all in the name of science. She said the experiment was to see if our emails boosted the other person’s academic performance because we were to be encouraging when we wrote. We were not to tell who we were or give too much personal information about ourselves and at the end of the semester we’d be revealed to each other then we’d write a thesis over our experience. She’d posted our student ID numbers on the wall and who we were matched up with, and on our way out, we were to write down the number then email our person that day if possible.

  This sounded like fun and since I knew no one in Seattle other than Amy, I hoped I might be able to make a friend for the semester at least. As I stood waiting for the crowd to dissipate, I felt someone right behind me, and it was like my body knew it was him. My breathing instantly sped up, my heart started thumping hard in my chest and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise.

  “Good to see you again, Priss,”Gable leaned down and whispered into my ear, his hot breath on my neck making me shiver, and, of course, my nipples get rock hard.

  Good lord. I’d never experienced a reaction to a guy like this before. I closed my eyes for a moment, wanting to lean my head back against his hard chest and beg him to talk more, to say anything, or maybe nothing as long he stayed close so I could feel him against me, feel the heat that seemed to radiate from him burning into my skin. Instead, I said breathlessly, “My name’s not Priss,” and heard him chuckle softly, his mouth still at my ear.

  “I miss the white outfit,” he stated then put his hands on my hips, moving them down to where his fingers skimmed along the hem of my shorts then started moving them slowly back toward my bottom. “But these hot pink shorts make you look completely fuckable too.”

  That brought me out of my stupor and I spun around, glaring up at him. “You can’t talk to me like that!” I hissed under my breath, glancing around self-consciously to make sure no one was watching our exchange.

  He peered down at my chest where my nipples were standing at full attention under my t-shirt. “From the looks of it, I think you like me talking to you like that.” Then he leaned in closer. “What’s the matter? Never been talked dirty to before, Priss?” When he pulled back, I saw that the half grin was now going strong and his luminous brown eyes were dancing with humor at his having riled me.

  Holy hell.

  As I kept glowering at him, having no response to that, I noticed a girl next to us gawking at us, and embarrassed, I smiled shyly at her, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, trying to act normal. When she turned away, I whisper-hissed at him, “Are you kidding me right now? Just who do you think you are?”

  He bent again to get close to my ear. “I’m the guy who’ll have you coming hard before the semester’s over,” he answered evenly, his eyes shimmering with cockiness as they burned into mine when he stood straight again.

  Mesmerized, I gazed back at him, lost in him, wanting what he was selling, God, how did he do that, until it hit me that I should be offended by his boldness and I suddenly frowned. “What is your deal?” I screeched making several students look at me and felt my face burning even hotter than it already was at his inappropriate comments. I turned to get away from him mumbling, “Oh, my God,” but he grabbed me by the arm pulling me in close.

  “You don’t have to call me God. Gable works, but I’m sure I’ll be making you scream both soon,” he whispered close to my ear.

  I pushed against his chest (of course he didn’t budge at all) and jerked my arm from his grasp with a scowl then moved as far away from him as I could, going to the back of the line to wait until he left. Standing there, I closed my eyes trying to get a hold of myself but could still see his seductive gaze searing into mine as he smirked while saying those things to me, as if he was so confident that they’d happen regardless of what I had to say about it.

  And the really bad thing about it? As I stood there, a complete emotional mess from what’d just happened, I found I actually wanted those things to happen, which served to embarrass me even more not to mention just totally baffle me. I mean, I’d only slept with one guy, Hayden, my first and only boyfriend, and that’d been after we’d dated for almost a year so it wasn’t like I got around much, so what was wrong with me that I was all in for having sex with someone I barely knew? Someone who’d been an ass to me from day one. Someone who obviously had way more experience than I had.

  As I stood behind everyone, I swallowed thickly, my cheeks still on fire, wondering who the hell I was, and when I moved my eyes to the front I saw Gable write his person’s number down in his notebook, smile at a girl who was gazing up at him like he was a damned rock star then he left without even a glance back at me.

  When I finally got to the front, I wrote my person’s number down quickly and got the heck out of there because a few people were still watching me curiously. As I walked outside the building, I cautiously surveyed the area making sure Gable hadn’t hung around wanting to torment me some more but saw that he was off to my right talking to his friend, Mr. Tactful, and they were near the parking lot which was a good twenty yards away. I also saw that Gable was smoking. Well, total turnoff right there. Good. At least he had something about him that repulsed me (other than his cocky attitude, that is), and when I saw the coast was clear, I let out the breath I was holding, relief flooding over me along with a bit of disappointment at his unhealthy habit, and headed away in the opposite direction from him, going to my next class.

  ~*~*~*~

  ______________________________________

  From: 9565876

  Subject: Hi!

  Date: August 28, 3:32 p.m.

  To: 9543254

  Hi 9543254!

  It’s nice meeting you!

  Um, to tell you a few things about myself, I’m a sophomore and female. I’m not from Washington State. I’ve got two older brothers, and was raised by my dad. My mom died of cancer when I was three, so I was raised by three guys so I guess I’m kind of a tomboy. I love chicken tacos, Alter Bridge is my favorite band (Mark Tremonti is THE best guitarist ever) and I have a huge crush on Alex Trebek. Weird, I know.

  I hope your week has gone well so far. How are your classes going? Great, I hope! Mine are going fine. I know we’re not supposed to tell each other anything too personal, but I have to tell you, I’m already loving my French class, well, except for when the professor called on us to see how much we knew and I accidentally asked if the chicken was in my size. I was going for sweater, but as you see, I screwed that up.

  Anyway, I hope this assignment is fun. I’ve never had a pen pal before, but if it gets me an A in psych, then I’m in lol

  Talk to you later! : )

  9565876

  My pen pal answered that night.

  ______________________________________

  From: 9543254

  Subject: Hi!

  Date: August 28, 10:36 p.m.

  To: 9565876

  Yo 9565876—

  I’m a dude from the Seattle area. I’ve got 3 brothers. Jimi Hendrix, enough said. Not much of an Alter Bridge fan, although I haven’t really listened to them. Tremonti was good when he was with Creed, though. Chicken tacos are cool. You’re into older game show hosts—nice. My classes are good.

  What do you look like?

  ---9543254

  ______________________________________

  ~*~*~*~

  “How’d it go?” Amy asked when she came in that night from the fast-food place where she worked. She still wore her work uniform that consisted of khaki pants and a crazy colorful striped shirt. She hated it but I thought she looked cute in it and could
n’t help smiling at her every time I saw her wearing it which always made her scowl at me. She was about the same height I was but a little thicker since she’d been a gymnast for most of her life, so she was like a walking muscle. Her skin was gorgeous, the color of coffee with cream, and her eyes were a startling sea foam green. She wore her dark brown hair short, similar to Halle Berry’s, and I thought she was beautiful.

  “Good. How about you?” I was sitting at the kitchen table working on a paper for poli-sci.

  “Okay. I’ve already got a paper due Friday in my advanced comp class. There goes summer.” She rolled her eyes and plopped down on the couch, picking up the remote and clicking through channels on the TV like crazy.

  I chuckled. “They don’t waste time, that’s for sure. I’m working on a paper right now.”

  “What’s your topic?” she asked, peeking over the back of the couch at me.

  “We have to read something about the American Dream and argue how it impacts different ethnic groups.”

  “Yawn,” she answered. “Ours is something about Hamlet and self-awareness and its meaning. Double yawn.”

  I chuckled again. “Good times.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered turning back to the TV.

  “Hey, do you know a guy named Gable Powers?”

  Her head whipped around. “Everyone knows who Gable Powers is. Why?”

  “Remember the guy who helped me with my flat when I came to meet you?”

  “Nuh uh!” she answered, staring at me in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.

  I rolled my eyes and nodded. “Yeah, and now he’s in my psych class and is just as big a jerk as he was the first time I met him.”

  “He’s hot, Scout.”

  “He might be hot, but after today, I know he’s still a jerk.”

  “What happened?”

  I told her what he’d said and she squealed. “Holy shit! He wants you!”