by Cindy Miles
“So what do you want, gorgeous? We already signed up for the Turkey Run,” he said, then smiled. His eyes gleamed as he dipped his head toward me. “We don’t bake, darlin’, so the bake sale is off.”
Several of the guys laughed. One snorted.
“I’m actually here to see your new friend,” I stated. “Kane McCarthy.”
The expression on Josh’s face shifted. Even more predatory, if possible. “Is that so?”
I nodded. “It is.”
Josh stared at me a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. “Well, damn, girl.” He inclined his head toward the stairs. “Follow me.”
I did, and at the top of the stairs we turned right. Two doors down, Josh pushed open the door. The room contained no less than a half-dozen Kappas, and a half-dozen others I didn’t recognize. In the center, at a desk, sat Kane. When we entered, he looked up. Those fathomless eyes lit on mine, and surprise widened them. He relaxed, though, and leaned back in the chair. Those expresso brown pools slowly inspected me, from the tips of my boots to the top of my head. Then, they settled on my eyes.
“You here to place a bet?” he asked in that smoky voice.
Dredging up as much confidence and courage as I could find, I slipped into an easy smile that surprised even me. I made sure my gaze didn’t falter. “I am,” I said slyly.
The guys all joked; whistled, wailed, and all the other immature things guys do to make fun of a situation. I stood straight, though, and didn’t budge. I kept my gaze locked onto Kane’s. And he kept his on mine, as well.
Then he surprised me. He rose and walked directly to me, grasped me by the elbow, and looked down at me. “Come on,” he said in that quiet, controlled smoky voice that matched his eyes.
His fingers heated my skin as we walked, leaving a room full of laughing hyena Kappas behind. Confusion made me stutter. Made me almost forget he had ahold of me. I flinched. He didn’t let go.
“W—what are you doing?” I demanded, trying to tamp down my rising panic. Wanting to keep up the farce of me wanting to place a bet. “Did you not hear me?”
He didn’t look at me as he led me down the steps. “I heard you.”
“Let me go,” I urged. “Now, please.”
He didn’t, and as we passed Josh, he simply grinned and shrugged. “Nice try, Delta.” He winked, and I wanted to kick him. “Save me some cookies, will ya? And tell Murph I said hi!”
Laughter trailed us as Kane hurried me outside, and it was only after we’d descended the steps that he turned me loose. I rounded on him, but at the same time backed up, keeping my distance. “How…dare you.” I began to shake; I willed it to stop. It didn’t. So I paced to hide it.
Kane braced his legs against the concrete, crossed his arms over his chest, and studied me. Silently. Thoroughly. Only his eyes spoke, a slight simmering flash noticeable only beneath the glow of the Kappas’ yard light.
“What are you looking at?” I demanded.
He stared for a few more painful moments. “I just don’t know yet.”
I stiffened. “What does that mean?”
He shoved his hand through his already-messy hair. “I can’t read you.” He cocked his head, pushed his hands into his pockets, and stepped toward me. I stepped back. He acted as if he didn’t notice the movement. “You look like a typical high society snob.” His eyes moved over me, and I held my breath. “Fancy clothes. Expensive car.” He rubbed his chin. “You have that air about you, like you’re better than anyone.” Before I could breathe, he was there, in front of me, not touching me, but he might as well have been. His body heat enveloped me, as if invisible hands pulled us together. “I think you’re bluffing.” Then he did touch me; his knuckle caught my chin, lifting my gaze to his, and I was speechless. Breathless, as his wise eyes watched me. “If I know anything, Harper Belle, it’s a bluff.”
I could barely draw in a breath; it almost came out as a gasp. I felt my eyes tearing up, and as stupid as it was, I couldn’t stop it. My skin broke out into tingles—exactly the feeling I’d had in the past before a panic attack. The feeling I’d get if trapped in a darkened place. I swallowed hard, pushed his hand from my chin, and stepped back. Distance helped, but I still breathed hard. I couldn’t hide it, either. “You…you don’t know me at all. I am better.”
His laugh was surprisingly soft and void of mockery. “I know more than you think I do.” He stepped toward me again, but didn’t touch me. The light cast down behind and around him, causing his face to be cut into odd planes and shadows, with only glimpses of the pale skin of his face showing. “I know I’m making you nervous. Believe it or not, Harper—that’s not my intention.”
“I—I don’t care what your intentions are,” I said quietly. My voice shook as I spoke, and I knew he heard it. I moved backward, away from him, and in the next second I’d stepped off the paved walk and into the wintry-dead grass. My pointed boot heel sank, stuck, and before I knew what was happening my balance shifted and I was going down. My arms jutted out to catch myself, and my purse dropped—
Kane leapt, caught me, set me upright. So fast, I hardly had time to realize most of my body was wrapped in his arms. My eyes widened as he looked down at me, and unavoidably, my entire self started shaking. He didn’t let go of me. Not at first.
Those velvety brown eyes moved over mine. “I don’t know why I can’t stop staring at you,” Kane said quietly. His easygoing voice, in complete contrast with that brusque Boston accent, sent shivers across my skin. Then he steadied me, and stepped back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and inclined his head. “Get out of here, Harper Belle,” he said. But his mouth, those full lips that were tinged with just enough shade of rose to make them stand out against his alabaster skin, smiled that easy smile. “You don’t want this,” he inclined his head toward the Kappas’ house. “Something else, maybe. But that’s the part of you I can’t quite read yet.”
Back on the paved walk, I breathed, straightened my posture, raised my chin. Inside, I still shook. Keep it hidden, Harper. At all costs, don’t let them see you.
“You don’t know me or what I want,” I answered weakly. Almost a whisper. I hated it. Couldn’t help it.
Then I could do nothing more than turn on my heel and walk away as fast as I could.
As I marched back across the street, up the walk and back to Delta House, I knew his gaze stayed on me. I knew he didn’t budge from where he stood beneath that yard light. And more than anything, as I climbed the steps to my own sorority house, I knew one thing with more certainty than I’d experienced in some time.
It wasn’t the last time I’d see Kane McCarthy. No matter how much I wanted to back out of my very own Dare. Despite how incredibly edgy and unnerved he made me, we’d be together again. Perhaps not taking or making bets, but something. I felt it inside of me. Almost as if it’d been there all along, only I’d ignored it.
The moment my hand lit on the doorknob, the door fell open, and Murphy was there, eyes wide, a skully cap pulled over her lob haircut. “What was that all about?” she asked breathily. As usual, when she was exceptionally excited about something, her North York accent fell heavy. “Come on, Harper. Spill!”
The common room was unusually empty, and we both made our way to the sofa and sat down. Murphy waited, almost bouncing on the cushions. I fought the urge to close my eyes, to purge the embarrassing scene of Kane dragging me from the betting room in the Kappa house.
And his uncanny perception of me.
I breathed in. Out. Trying my best not to look as exhausted as I felt. “Well,” I finally said, looking at Murphy’s wide-eyed gaze. “Kane McCarthy will not be as easy as I thought.”
Her long lashes grazed her cheeks as she blinked, almost in slow-motion. “Oy, why’s that?”
I shook my head and stared into the low flame of the gas fireplace. “Firstly, he’s not your average Kappa. Rather, Kappa affiliate. He’s not even your average bad boy.” I sighed and looked at her. “He’s arrogant and aut
horitative. He makes assumptions and isn’t afraid to voice them.”
A smile leapt to Murphy’s expressive mouth. “Really? What else, Ms. Perceptive?”
I ignored her playful jab. “He’s challenging me, Murphy. But he doesn’t quite know who he’s messing with.” Which was a bold-faced lie. He knew all right. Knew all too well. I could see it in that profound stare of his.
There it was. That knowing grin on Murphy’s face. “No, he doesn’t indeed.”
That night, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. I tossed. I turned. I rose, walked to the window and sat on the sill, watching the inky November night. I pushed up the old glass and allowed the chilled air to flow over me. Texas had a myriad of weather changes, and even in the dead of winter it could be hot as Hades. Not true this year. It’d been chilly ever since mid-October, and I liked it. It felt…clean. Fresh.
Kane McCarthy’s truck was gone; back at Brax’s, no doubt. I replayed every second of our earlier meeting. Every stare, every touch, every word. I could still even smell the scent of his worn leather jacket. More than anything, though, were his words. They’d affected me, more than I’d let on to Murphy. As a matter of fact, I’d hidden pretty much everything from Murphy. I hadn’t told her I’d almost had a panic attack. It’d been almost a year since I’d had one, usually brought on by nightmares of things from my long-ago past. Usually, during a visit home. Things I’d spent years in therapy to forget. Corinne Belle had insisted on it. I’d lied there, too. To the therapist. To Corinne.
I hadn’t forgotten anything at all about those terrifying days so long ago. When I was eight. What had happened to my parents. What I’d seen. I even remembered the police officer who’d found me that night.
What had happened, after. At my grandmother’s.
I kept it all bottled up inside of me. Corinne Belle had warned me never to let anyone know of it. Not to let them know who I really was. There’d be consequences, she’d said. And there would be, too. Even now. I hadn’t told a soul anything. The Harper Belle I’d become was a product of Corinne’s fine grooming. If one would call what she’d done grooming.
And as long as it—as I—stayed that way, everything would be okay.
But then, Kane McCarthy happened. I felt as though his sultry eyes could see straight through my lies. The thought terrified me worse than the nightmares I’d grown up with. How could he, though? I barely knew him; had barely been around him. How could he know anything other than what I portrayed about me?
I brought to mind his face; his features. His flawless skin. His gestures. His voice. There was a perception about him that frightened me. But besides that, there was something mysterious about him. As though he, too, were hiding something. Keeping secrets. Funny, I sometimes got the same impression, on a much smaller scale, from his brother Brax.
There was no way out of this thing now. I’d thrown the gauntlet down with the Dare. The girls were completely onboard. To back out would inspire questions; demand answers. I wasn’t prepared for either. So I’d have to figure out another way to get at Kane McCarthy.
Only I was going to have to learn to control the absolute terror he stirred within me.
If not, everyone would know. They’d be able to see me.
And that just simply could not happen.
Ever.
I’d done something I almost never, ever did. Unless I was sick. Which I rarely was.
Skipped a morning run.
Kane would’ve been there, leaning against the tree. Or sitting on my park bench. I knew it like I breathed air. And somehow, that had intimidated me. Kept me prisoner. Kept me from doing the one thing that freed me. Even if for a short while.
It angered me, in the end. I was angry at Kane for, well, intimidating me. Angry at myself for allowing it.
I swiped the moisture from the bathroom mirror with my palm and glared at the face staring back at me. Corinne Belle had always said I had more eyes than face¸ and she was right; so wide that they had to tilt upward at the outer corners to fit properly. Almost like an alien. Watery bluish-green in color, I vaguely remember my father’s eyes being the same. I fingered my wet hair—straight to just below my shoulders, blonde. I lifted my face, turned it side to side. Sharp features, like a bird, Corinne had said.
Just like my dad.
Corinne Belle had changed my name, but not my features. Something I’m sure she would’ve given her right arm to successfully do.
I hurried through my bathroom rituals before the others awakened, and slipped back into my room. With my towel wrapped around me, I searched through my closet and chose a dark brown cashmere cardigan that I layered with a cream silk undershirt and a pair of tan trousers. A pair of brown leather heeled Mary Jane’s completed my outfit for the day. As I dried my hair, thoughts crowded my mind. Calculus. Literature. Bake sale. Turkey Run.
Kane McCarthy.
His words had stung, even though they were the exact impressions I’d purposely given people for as long as I could remember. Rich snob. Better than everyone else.
Both descriptions were far, far from the truth.
Flipping the blow dryer off, I set it on my bed and my eyes found the round vinyl hat box I kept on my dresser. Depicting vintage postcards of travel, like the Fiji Islands, Hawaii, London, Australia, it was where I kept every extra penny my grandmother had sent to me. For food. New clothes. Extra-curricular expenses. Old fashioned, she’d insisted on sending me cash instead of a check, or directly depositing. I didn’t have an account. I never would—not while in college, anyway. I didn’t deserve one, after all. Her money wasn’t my money. One day, she’d said, I’d owe it all back to her. And back to her everything would go. Every stitch of clothing she’d insisted on me buying to keep up appearances. The Lexus. Every handbag. Every pair of leather shoes. Every single dime.
So I used as little as possible. I didn’t want to owe her or anyone else for that matter. Ever. It was one reason why I didn’t go out with Murphy on a regular basis. Or with Olivia and Brax for pizza. Or to the mall with the sisters—unless it was with money we’d earned with a fundraiser and we were using it for something other than ourselves.
No one knew who I really was. No one would.
I applied my make-up, smoothed my hair and tucked it behind my ears, and pulled on my clothes. I made sure everything looked just…so. Then, at my money box, I paused. Considered. Hunger pangs rumbled inside my stomach.
Breakfast it would be.
Sliding the lid over, I lifted three one-dollar bills from its belly, replaced the lid, and folded the bills neatly in half. Breakfast always was the cheapest meal of the day, especially with a student discount. Too bad it was a nearly-impossible task to keep food separate in the community kitchen downstairs. I’d tried before, though, and no one ever seemed to remember whose food belonged to who. So I’d made the decision to select one meal a day to purchase, versus jockeying a loaf of bread and a package of turkey meat, or a box of oatmeal, in the Deltas’ community kitchen.
Easing out of my room, I made my way down the hall, down the stairs, and out into the early morning. On the porch, I paused. Inhaled. Not quite six a.m., no one was yet about, and I reveled in the absolute stillness of late-fall air. Above, the sky blinked with stars over a blanket of inky velvet. It was so quiet. Peaceful. Morning darkness was somehow different than nighttime darkness. Not as threatening. Not as terrifying. The older I’d gotten, the less fearful I’d become of morning darkness. Especially at Winston. With lamp lights blazing the campus, I set out.
My heels thumped against the paved walk as I made my way to the café. A breeze wafted through and rustled the leaves on the flowering pear trees that lined the walk. Winston’s buildings rose from the darkness like so many ancient fortresses; looming, protective, with Olivia’s observatory as the beacon. I liked it here, really.
The café doors had just opened, and inside the warm air smelled like the gingerbread candle burning on the counter. The girl by the register wasn’t a student, but we
were familiar. She usually worked the morning shift and knew I’d always be her first customer.
“Hi, Lily,” I said, quietly selecting my instant package of cinnamon raisin oatmeal and a small carton of whole milk. I handed both to her.
“Morning, Harper,” she replied with a bright smile. She was a little older than me, with pale skin and strawberry blonde curls she kept piled high on her head. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.”
I handed her two dollars, she returned fifty cents and a cup and spoon for my oatmeal, and I then dropped the other bill I had into her tip jar. She grinned. “Thanks, as always.”
I smiled and gave her a slight nod. “No problem.” At the coffee bar I hastily prepared my oatmeal with hot water and a few pumps from the half n’ half carafe. Then I headed back outside and started toward the fountain. Once there, I took the bench directly across from it, sat, and stirred my oatmeal.
“Do you always eat alone?”
I jumped at the sound of Kane’s voice. He emerged from the darkness, his alabaster skin stark against his dark hair and the even darker morning. “Why are you following me?” I didn’t look at him; I spooned a small bit of oatmeal into my mouth and chewed, biting into a raisin.
He moved closer, eased down onto the bench beside me, and the motion made the scent of his leather jacket and soapy skin reach my nostrils. It was a piney mint combination that I found I actually liked. In one hand, a steaming cup of coffee from the café, its bitter aroma rising in a cloud of steam through the little slotted spout in the lid. Leaning forward, resting his forearms against his knees, he looked straight ahead at the fountain. Sipped his coffee. I found it interesting, too, that I hadn’t leapt off the bench, ready to bolt.
“I guess you sort of drive me crazy,” he finally responded. “I wasn’t following you, Harper. I saw you leaving the café.” He looked at me over his shoulder, sipped his coffee, then shrugged. His mouth lifted in a half-grin, and his eyes simmered. “Then I followed you.”