I smile. “Thank you. You’re awful pretty, too.”
This makes her blush a little, and my heart goes completely soft at her innocence and sweetness.
She treats me to a big grin, and I see the girlish version of Riel’s dimples. Those coupled with her green eyes and freckles make her so adorable I want to squeeze her. I know she goes to the junior high, but my goodness she’s small for her age.
I glance down at her green polka dot skirt. “That’s pretty. Great color.”
“Riel bought it for me,” she shyly admits, and my insides get all gooey at the thought of him buying her a skirt.
She turns her head and points to her braid. “He did this, too.” She crinkles her nose. “But it’s not very good. He tried, though.”
He braided her hair, too? Oh my Lord, I don’t think I take much more of this. “Want me to fix it?”
Her eyes brighten. “Really? Okay.”
She pulls her chair around to sit in front of me, and I quickly redo her French braid. “I can teach you to do this yourself if you’d like.”
Mar glances over her shoulder and timidly nods.
“Tell you what. Next time you’re on campus, find me, and we’ll have a lesson.” I think for a second. “Bring an old doll. We’ll learn on her first, then go from there.” I wrap the band around the tip of her braid and give her shoulder a pat. “It’s how I learned.”
A throat clearing has both of us glancing across the library. Riel stands in the entryway watching us, and I swear I detect a small smile on his face.
Mar scoots out of her seat. “What are you doing here so early?”
“My make-up exam went quicker than I thought.”
“Oh.” Mar nods over her shoulder at me. “Viola’s going to teach me how to French braid. Is that okay? If I learn, you won’t have to do it in the mornings anymore.”
He glances between us. “Of course that’s okay, but you know I don’t mind doing it.”
I jump in, immediately detecting something. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Mar, get your stuff and head on to the fitness center,” he tells her. “You wanted to do that Zumba class, right?”
“Oh.” Over her shoulder, she gives me a bummed look. “That’s right. See you later, then.”
I give her a little wave. “Yeah, see you later.”
We both watch her leave, and as soon as she gets out of ear shot, Riel turns to me. “My sister’s had a ton of disappointment in her life. I really don’t mean to be a dick here, but please don’t pretend to like her.”
It takes me a second to digest what he’s just said, and I’m at a loss of words for how to respond. “I wasn’t pretending.” It’s the only thing I can think to say.
With a sigh, he glances away.
“What do you want me to do? Ignore her the next time she says hi?”
He turns back. “No, that’s not what I mean.”
I stand up. “Well, what do you mean exactly?”
He sighs again. “Nothing. Just forget what I said.” He turns away, leaving me all kinds of perplexed, and I watch as he walks back across the library.
“How are you paying for school?” I blurt out.
Riel stops walking, and slowly, he turns. “That’s really none of your business, Viola.”
He’s right. It’s not. That was so rude of me.
Then he turns again and is gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Thirty minutes later, I’m still confused about what went down between me and Riel. I’m irritated, too. I wasn’t pretending to be nice to Mar. Why would he even accuse me of that?
I change into my workout clothes and head to the academy’s fitness center. I want to hit something. Or kick. Or just really sweat.
Looping a towel around my neck, I check the schedule, see kickboxing starts in about twenty, and head straight there.
I step inside the dark room, flip on the dimmer lights, and come to an abrupt stop.
Maintaining a steady rhythm, Riel skips rope in the center of the room, hopping from foot to foot, his smooth motions making it seem like he’s running in place. Why is he working out in the dark?
Probably because he wants to be left alone.
Okay then. I’ll just work out in my little corner and leave him to his thing.
My sudden entrance doesn’t seem to faze him as he spares me a quick glance in the mirror and goes back to looking at his own reflection. I swear I see a muscle twitch in his jaw. But I’m not sure what kind of twitch it is. An irritated one? A concentrated one? Or maybe he’s just chewing gum. Though if it’s an irritated one, I want to know why. I’m the one who deserves to be irritated. Not him. He did wrongly accuse me of pretending with his sister.
I head over to the floor mats and sit down. As I stretch my legs out, I listen to his rhythmic breaths echoing in the otherwise quiet room.
Spreading my legs wide, I bend at the waist and touch my chin to the floor. I move to the right, reaching for my knee, getting a good inner thigh stretch. I do the same to the left and glance up to Riel.
I take in the powerful striations in his legs, arms, and shoulders. The sweat glistening on his body. The muscles popping in his calves as he hops. I’m staring, but I can’t seem to not. He is really kind of perfect.
He clears his throat, and I drag my fascination away from his muscles and up into his face. He cocks a brow, totally busting me staring, and I suddenly have this weird need to show him I can skip, too.
I shoot to my feet and grab a rope of my own. “Mind if I turn on some music?” I ask.
“That’s fine,” he says.
I jog over to the stereo that occupies one corner of the room, power on, and pick a station with techno. I pick a spot a couple yards away from him and begin skipping.
Why I need to show him I can skip, I really don’t know. I hadn’t come here intending to skip. I’d come for kickboxing. But seeing him here with that twitchy jaw muscle, coupled with what happened between us in the library, it brings on this competitive side of me.
Riel is still doing the same move he’s been doing since I first walked in, one foot in front of the other, running in place. Kindergarten stuff.
So I do it, too, and after a minute, switch to small up and down hops with both feet together.
He switches, too, apparently in his own competitive mood, and ups the pace.
I match his upped pace and change rhythm, jumping right, left, and back again.
He follows suit.
A few minutes later, I cross the rope in front of my body with each jump.
He matches my crossed rope move and double times it.
I do, too.
A few more minutes tick by, and slowing the pace, I uncross the rope and go back to a normal jumping move.
Riel slows, too, and a look of superiority flashes across his face. Oh, hell no. If he thinks my slow pace means he’s won, he has another think coming. I’m just getting started.
Like a jumping jack, I move my legs apart then together, apart then together.
Riel matches my new movement, increasing the pace.
I increase mine, too.
I change then, throwing each foot forward with a point of the toe.
Riel copies.
I step it up a notch, and he follows.
We continue, staring at each other, heavy gusts of air rushing from our mouths and sweat beading the floor. I can’t help but be overly obsessed with which one of us will drop first.
Then the music abruptly ends, bringing us both to a halted, confused stop.
“Sorry,” a girl apologizes, totally checking Riel out. “We’ve got kickboxing in a few. If you’re not taking the class you’ll have to clear out.”
Chest heaving, I glance at Riel to see his hands on his knees as he gulps for air.
But his breaths come heavier than mine, and I’m tempted to taunt that I’m in better shape. Instead, I walk over to the pegboard where I hang my rope and then retrieve my water bottle. After drainin
g half of it, I turn to see if he’s passed out and find he’s already gone.
Huh.
I take another swig, getting a bit smug with myself. He probably hadn’t expected me to be able to keep up.
The door reopens then, and Riel peeks his head back in. His lips twitch. “I’ll be ready for a rematch anytime.” Then without giving me a chance to respond, he closes the door.
And I laugh. Guess he and I are okay again.
Chapter Seventeen
The next afternoon I park myself in the library. Between two papers and one exam I figure I’ll be here for hours. I’ve just logged onto a computer when I hear a timid, “Hi,” and glance up to see Mar.
She holds up an old Barbie doll. “I’m here for my French-braiding lesson. That is, if you still want?”
I glance at my computer, then back to her hesitant, shy face. There’s no way I’m going to turn her down. I take the Barbie and run my fingers through her long red hair. “This is perfect.”
Riel walks in and his amber eyes lock on mine as he walks straight toward us. I have to remind myself to breathe.
He comes to a stop in front of me, sending his cologne floating through my senses. If he smells this delicious from a distance, I can only imagine what he smells like up close. “Can we talk a minute before beauty school begins?” he asks.
My lips curve. “Sure.”
Riel indicates a round table on the other side of the library. “Hermanita, head on over there and give Viola and me a sec.”
We both watch Mar walk away before turning back to each other.
Riel leans against a bookshelf and folds his arms. My eyes go straight to his biceps, and even though he’s wearing his school jacket, they still bulge the material. How is that even possible?
“You are all my sister can talk about,” he starts, and I drag my eyes to his. “She wants to look like you, talk like you, dress like you, and she cannot wait to learn how to French braid.” He smiles and I catch a hint of those fabulous dimples. “She’s driving me nuts,” he admits.
“I’ve only talked to her once.” I can’t help it if the girl likes me.
“I know, and I can’t remember the last time she was so excited about something.”
Although it seems like a compliment, he doesn’t sound very pleased.
He glances across the library to his sister and then back to me. “Fact is I owe you an apology. A couple actually.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
“I was upset when you got the scholarship, and I reviewed your file for discrepancies. That was unfair of me. Neither one of us has control over funding issues. You more than deserve the money. For that I apologize.”
“That’s okay,” I mumble, so laden with guilt I can barely grab on to my own thoughts.
“Yes, I lost my funding,” he goes on, “but don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
He’s saying that because of my question yesterday. He’s trying to make me feel better about getting his money. Ugh. I hate myself even more. But the fact is, if I lost my funding, I wouldn’t be fine. There is absolutely no way I could continue going here. At least he’s got some money somewhere.
“Second, what I said to you yesterday about being nice to Mar. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because there’ve been some girls who have been nice to Mar just to get to me.” He rolls his eyes in disgust. “I hate how that sounds, but there it is. Unfortunately, the one who gets hurt in it all is Mar.”
To think he thought I was being friendly to his sister to get to him. Well, that’s embarrassing. But I get it. He’s gorgeous. He’s smart. He’s nice. What girl wouldn’t be into him?
“Anyway. Sorry.” His dimples flash again and it sparks flutters through my body. “We’re good?”
I smile back. “We’re good.”
“Viola?” Mar calls. “Ready?”
Riel gives me one last delicious smile before heading off.
“Yes, ready,” I call back, not taking my eyes off his retreating back. Yep, I was not expecting Riel. Friendly, intelligent, gorgeous. Exactly the type of guy I should’ve been with instead of Manny.
I think about everything Riel just said. So he was looking into my file. Well, apparently whatever he found appeased him. Yes, I’m still on probation, but that’s just a matter of going through the motions. If he’s dismissed my file, then everything should be good to go.
Then why does that not ease my worry?
Later I sit in my dorm room, finishing up the last of the two papers.
My cell rings and I look at the caller screen.
PRIVATE NUMBER.
Very few people know my new number. “Hello?” I answer.
Silence.
“Hello?”
Deep, throaty moans vibrate through the receiver.
I stiffen. “Who is this?”
“A secret admirer,” whispers an eerie garbled voice.
I jab the end button, and I’m not entirely sure why, but I immediately think of that weird, bald guy from the marina.
My door flings open at that exact second and I scream.
“Hi!” says a tall and skinny black girl with the pinkest, spikiest hair I’ve ever seen. Wearing a smile that takes up half her face, she bounds over the threshold. “You Viola?”
“Yeah…?”
She waves my hesitation off. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I got lost. Well, not really lost, more like distracted. You see, I happened to pass this really cool neighborhood, and I just had to get out and walk around. Because walking, to me, is a much better way to see something.” She throws her oversized purple purse into the corner, and whirling around, she marches over to the empty twin mattress.
“Then after I walked around a bit, I realized it was getting late, only I don’t have a watch, so I didn’t know how late.” She plops down on the vacant bed. Layers of her see-through flowered silk dress float up and then settle down around her.
“So I started running back toward where I parked my car, but as you can see,” she sticks her purple platform flip-flop in the air, “I don’t have on running shoes. So I guess I wasn’t really running, I was more like hobbling. Only I couldn’t remember where I’d parked my car.”
She takes a deep breath. “Well, by the time I hobbled up and down five streets in that neighborhood, I finally found my bug.”
“Bug?”
“Car.”
“Oh.”
“And here I am.”
I laugh, if anything because this is just too weird. “And who are you?”
She grins. “Gillian. Your roommate.”
“My roommate?” I shake my head. “Aren’t you a bit late to school? We’re already weeks in.”
“Whatever. I mean, how much does that really matter?”
“Uh.” My eyebrows shoot up. “A lot?”
She waves me off as she scoots back on the mattress. “So tell me everything. What have I missed? What’s the gossip?”
“Well…” I pause a second, letting my brain catch up with her. “To start with, I’m here on scholarship from Tennessee…” and I keep talking, telling her everything I can think of: classes, the tech crew, having Riel as my peer mentor.
“Riel?” Gillian sashays her shoulders. “I’ve been in love with him since freshman year. Isn’t his accent to die for?”
Yeah, actually it is.
Gillian starts talking then. Well, babbling more accurately describes it.
She’s the heiress to the Beltran jewelry chain and is a senior, too. Her parents also donated the fitness center on campus—hence the reason why she can probably show up to school weeks late and no one seems to care. Money talks and all that.
Despite all that, I like her. She pulses with energy and is definitely unlike anyone I’ve ever known.
“I’m an artist,” she tells me. “I want to make pottery and travel the fair route.”
“You do know this academy specializes in the sciences?”
“Yeah
, yeah, yeah.” She mimics me with her hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t take my good fortune for granted.”
“Mm, hm.”
“Little do you know I get cut off at twenty-five if I’m not”—she quotes the air with her fingers—“‘doing something with my life.’” She waves all that off. “But whatever. That’s years away, and I digress.”
We end up talking for hours before either of us think to look at the clock. It’s past midnight when we walk out to her car to get her luggage.
As I adjust my glasses, I check out her Volkswagen Bug, painted to look tie-dyed. “This is the coolest car I’ve ever seen.”
Gillian grins. “Thanks! I did it myself.”
We both open doors and grab luggage held together with duct tape. The richest girl here and she has her suitcase held together with duct tape. Gillian’s definitely going to be an interesting roommate.
As I close her side door, an unexpected creepiness crawls up my neck. I glance around at the dark lot and parked cars.
“What’s wrong?” Gillian asks.
“Nothing.” I look around again, catching the faint hint of pot in the air. “Let’s just go.”
Even though I try not to, even though I tell myself to remain calm, I speed walk back toward the dorm.
As I wrench the door open to the building, an engine cranks and I whip around in time to see a dark SUV across the coastal highway pulling away.
Chapter Eighteen
The next night, me and Gillian sit cross-legged on her bed with a large pepperoni pizza between us.
“Know who you look like?” she asks.
“Katy Perry.” I supply the obvious answer.
“No. Zooey Deschanel.”
“Who?”
“Dark hair, blue eyes, bangs, black glasses. Does that New Girl show, or did it. I don’t even know if it’s still on. Done tons of TV, too, and movies and also sings.”
“Oh, yeah.” I like the Zooey comparison much better than Katy. Never really been a Katy fan anyway.
Gillian plucks a pepperoni off her slice. “Pizza chick was pretty hot. I was tempted to flirt. Guess my hunger got in the way.”
Watching You Page 5