Kane Richards Must Die

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Kane Richards Must Die Page 3

by Williams, Shanice


  For the rest of the night she stayed on my mind; her words constantly nagging at my conscience, the image of her defiant face and raised brow stitched firmly behind my eye sockets. This girl was going to be a challenge for me, there was no doubt about that. But I was damn certain that it was going to be a challenge I would enjoy. One that would definitely keep me entertained throughout the school day.

  Chuckling lightly to myself, I turned on the radio, turning the volume dial as high as it would go, as I headed towards the city. A smirk pulled at my lips as the air whipped in through the windows and I began to pick up speed.

  Suranne Williams.

  I wanted her.

  And Kane Richards always got what he wanted.

  6. SURPRISE

  Suranne

  “Hey you two, I’ll meet you at the car, yeah?” I said to Kate and Lawrence. It was a Saturday, and Kate had asked me to go into town with them just for something to do. For the past three hours we had been going from shop to shop looking at clothes. Something Lawrence was obviously bored by, until I decided to start looking for him. We shoved him into various garments, taking pictures as he wandered over to the fancy dress section and pranced about dressed as a pirate. When he dressed up as James Bond, even I had to appreciate his looks. He really did look quite nice in black.

  But now I was exhausted, and the weather was once again unbearably hot. Kate and Lawrence wanted to go on to different stores but I couldn’t take the heat for much longer, and noticed a small park that had a bench perched right under a huge maple tree. Perfect shade.

  “You sure? You don’t look so good.” Kate’s eyes roamed over my face and she cocked an eyebrow.

  “No, no, I’ll be fine. It’s just the heat, honestly. Umm, I’ll meet you at the car in like an hour or so,” I reassured her. If I didn’t get out of this heat soon I was going to pass out.

  Both Kate and Lawrence shrugged before strolling back towards the shops, whilst I wandered over to the bench. The bench overlooked a small pond that reflected the blue sky and buildings beautifully. Random joggers passed now and then with their earphones plugged in, and a light breeze was blowing.

  The shade from the tree gave me instant relief, and I sighed happily as I sank down onto the bench. It was so peaceful there, and I decided to listen to some calming music. I knew that if I didn’t distract myself, my thoughts would automatically wander to him. I didn’t want to say his name, the same name that was probably on a hundred girls’ minds, whilst he sat around and bragged about his latest triumph of getting into another girl’s pants. I pulled out my iPod and swirled my thumb over the touch navigator swiftly searching for the song that would fit the scenery. I didn’t know why, but classical struck me as perfect for the scenery, and so I put on my favourite piano composition by Yiruma.

  As the music trilled in my ears, I began to relax even more and closed my eyes in contentment. I imagined myself playing the song on a beautiful grand piano, my fingers flowing freely over the ivory keys. Not many people knew about my love for playing, apart from my mum. It was my own personal way of expressing who I was and how I felt. I was never good with words and could never open up to anyone. Not even my mother. Playing was my best outlet.

  My fingers automatically waved in the air as I pictured the notes I would be pressing. I hummed along as the song reached the bridge and smiled to myself before suddenly feeling pressure on the bench next to me. I gasped, snapped open my eyes, and jumped to my feet.

  Sitting there on the bench a foot away from me in all of his glorious beauty, was none other than Kane Richards.

  7. FIRST THOUGHTS

  Kane

  I continued smirking at her, trying to hide my suddenly sweaty palms and accelerated heart rate. Well, that’s never happened before. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Suranne breathed and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at me.

  The angry tone of her voice, coupled with her accent and the slanted pout of her lips caused a familiar tingle in my lower abdomen, and I found myself clearing my throat while I discretely readjusted myself.

  “I was driving home when I noticed Lawrence’s car. I thought I could catch up with him. Didn’t expect to see you here though,” I added sourly, and cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

  She shrugged in response, “He and Kate asked me to come out with them; I was too hot though, and told them to go on without me.” She frowned at something and then sighed, relaxing back on the bench. The closeness of her body screamed at me, I was tempted to pull her to me; the fact that I was uncontrollably hard for the first time in two days didn’t help.

  I looked at her face; her eyes were closed as a breeze blew past us, and she bit on the bottom of her lip softly. I stifled a groan as her actions caused more stirring down below. I wanted to be the one biting down on that lip, pulling her close to me.

  But I didn’t kiss chicks, though? Right.

  “So,” I cleared my throat again and grinned at her crookedly, “what was with the floating fingers, huh? Is there some invisible instrument you’re not telling me about?” I chuckled and raised an eyebrow. Her eyes widened and her face flushed a delicate pink before she ducked her head and looked down at the ground. I had to admit she was even cuter when she blushed.

  “I was, umm, listening to a piano tune, and imagining playing it . . . that’s all,” she mumbled softly before returning my gaze, looking rather sheepish.

  Huh. So she’s in to classical music? And she plays? That’s a first.

  “What song was it?” I asked softly, not wanting to embarrass her again.

  “Uhh, it’s uh, called “River Flows in You” by–”

  “Yiruma.” I finished her sentence and looked at her. I didn’t know whether I was shocked or impressed. A bit of both, I think. She actually had something in common with me, I thought to myself. My mom never said anything when I requested to have a piano in my room; she always thought it was just for show and didn’t realize that I actually enjoyed playing. I never told anyone about it, and just shrugged it off whenever anyone asked. I didn’t know why but for some reason it never felt like something that needed to be shared, it almost seemed private in a way.

  She gasped silently before looking at me, her gray eyes revealing nothing but curiosity.

  “How do you know?” she asked. I got the feeling she didn’t quite believe someone like me could possibly have interest in his kind of music. I just rolled my eyes at her assumption.

  “It’s one of my favorites.” I shrugged and then smirked as a new thought came to me. “Can you play it?” I challenged.

  She lifted her head defensively. “Yes,” she said firmly before raising an eyebrow. “Can you?”

  My eyes lidded slightly as her sexy voice hugged my ears, and her scent of some kind of flower or fruit enveloped me. I groaned internally and instinctively leaned closer, until my face was just an inch away from her. I heard her sharp intake of breath, and she bit down on her lip again. Dear God, I thought to myself. For the first time in three years, I felt that desire, an uncontrollable urge to kiss her lips.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  I couldn’t control it anymore. I slid even closer to her on the bench, and slowly leaned my face down towards hers.

  I knew that this could possibly look bad for me; knew that this could jeapordize my reputation.

  Did I care?

  Hell no.

  8. CONFUSION

  Suranne

  His lips were just centimeters away from mine. He couldn’t be serious. Kane Richards kissing me? Was he serious? Did he really just want to kiss me because he had the urge to? Or was it just a test like the first time we had met? I didn’t really want to find out.

  “Show me,” I whispered, causing him to stop in his tracks and pull back slightly, his expression confused.

  “Show you what?” he asked, his breath fanning over my lips, his gentle voice husky and seductive. I could smell the faint hint of m
int on his breath, and my body fought to repress a shudder.

  “Show me you can play it,” I replied simply, trying to keep myself under control. The park had become unnaturally quiet and there was no one around but him and me. No one would know if I did anything with him would they? Maybe just one kiss, maybe I should just let him, and run my fingers through his amazing hair, and possibly even tug on it a little.

  No, Suranne. Remember who this is.

  He frowned for a moment before regaining his smirk and taking my hand. My eyes immediately snapped to where our skin was connected, and I felt a light warmth travel up my arm just from his touch.

  “Fine, I have a piano at my place. I have to say I didn’t think you’d be that easy to get into my bedroom.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  And just like that, the warm feeling vanished. I snatched my hand away from his, ignoring how I immediately missed the contact, and pushed the thought into the back of my mind.

  “I’m not going to your bloody house! I don’t wanna see you play that bad.” I huffed and folded my arms, only earning a suggestive stare at my chest from Kane. I cleared my throat angrily trying to get his attention back to my face. He sighed and leaned back against the bench. “You should be honored, babe. You’d be the first girl I brought back to my room.” He winked at me, before smirking once again.

  What was that supposed to mean? How could he be some sex-crazed monster but not have any girls in his room?

  It’s obvious he goes back to their place to do the deed. Of course.

  So then, what did that make me? My heart swelled at the idea of him actually wanting to bring me back to his house, at the possibility of me being the first. I stared back at him, unable to say anything, and felt so close to accepting his offer. I watched his jaw unclench and his face become soft. He took my hand again and leaned into me slowly.

  “Look, Suranne, I – I mean, I don’t . . . just think. Damn.” He frustratedly ran his other hand through his hair before continuing.

  “You’re not like them . . . you’re not even close,” he whispered.

  Oh my God. I’m not even close? Did that mean that I was worse than all those other slags he had sex with, so bad that I wasn’t even worth it? No wonder he didn’t mind taking me back to his house, he had no desire to do anything with me. Oh, God. He didn’t want to do me. My breathing became heavier and I was nearing a full-blown panic attack. Was he basically trying to say that I was unwanted?

  All of a sudden anger washed through me. How dare he even come up to me, take my hand in his, lean his face in like he was about to kiss me and then tell me I was “not even close.” I knew he was a pompous arse, but geez.

  How dare he?

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I attempted to keep a calm and cool composure, but I was struggling greatly. I could almost see a haze cloud my vision. My muscles tightened, my mind filled with anger, my fists clenched with rage.

  And my mouth burned with spitting, venomous fury.

  And it was all because of Kane Richards.

  I was too angry and confused to notice the somewhat bewildered expression on his face.

  “What did I say?” he asked, eyes wide.

  “Don’t screw with me Kane, I may have been a bit forward the other day at lunch but Jesus, you didn’t have to go to so much trouble to insult me. Those girls that you bang are slags and you have the nerve to say that I’m not even like them but WORSE?!” Tears started to form at the corners of my eyes.

  9. ACHE

  Kane

  She really was hot when she was angry but what the hell was she talking about?

  Before I could even correct her she was gone, stomping off toward the east without hesitation, leaving me there on the bench.

  Confused, and turned on as hell, I sat there just staring at the direction Suranne had headed. She was long gone by now, but I couldn’t move my eyes. I couldn’t move at all. My body just sat frozen while my mind furiously tried to decipher the meanings behind her outburst.

  I never said she was worse than those girls. I never would. Surely she knows that. Jesus, I go to kiss this girl, something she knows I don’t do, and she throws it back in my face. I go to take her hand and she rips it away from me. I, for the first time since God knows when, force myself to relax, and be honest with her and she screams at me.

  No shit, Kane, get the hint already. Anyone else and I would have been done with them already. Since when has Kane-every-chick-begs-for-Richards had to chase anyone? I . . . well . . . I never have. So why should I start now?

  I forced myself to move and get my ass back home when it started to get dark. I was done with the God-why-do-I-like-her-so-much shit swirling my mind. I needed my black silk sheets, I needed my TV, and I needed a drink.

  Of course getting her out of my head was going to be easier said than done. God truly does hate me and will enjoy my suffering as much as possible.

  By 9 p.m. I was certain that she was just dying to bang me and was denying her insufferable need by trying to act like a total bitch around me but a complete angel to everyone else. Especially Lawrence. Yeah, that’s what it is. She wants me too much but doesn’t want to be chucked the next day.

  Cause I would chuck her the next day.

  Wouldn’t I?

  Yes. She would be boring.

  Would she? Given the chance, could I have talked to her for hours?

  Damn.

  By 10 p.m. I was certain that she was just in a mood and that her sexy-ass body was suffering from unavoidable PMS girly shit. That would have to be the reason why she would storm off on me. No chick ever storms off on me. I mean, Jesus I’m too good to look at for that shit.

  But then I remembered the expression on her face before she had left. The slight shimmering of her gray eyes.

  But I’d seen girls cry before. Usually when I told them to remove their skanky hands from my shirt, or my hair, or wherever they felt the need to grope me the day after. But it wasn’t . . . painful for me to watch them cry. I would merely shrug and move on, telling them to do the same. I mean keeping me to one girl would just be selfish, right? I was taught to share. I was doing a good deed.

  Share . . . Suddenly the thought of me having to share Suranne with anyone made my fists clench and my teeth snap.

  Even though she wasn’t mine to begin with. But I could change that.

  Couldn’t I?

  I’d never felt this shit before. Images of hugging her and running my fingers through that sexy hair of hers and listening to her sexy voice filled my head. And I liked it.

  What was wrong with me?

  By 11 p.m. I was procrastinating sleep. I knew that if I closed my eyes she would be there. Not that it made much of a difference. She was in my head already, eyes open or closed. But I didn’t want to hand myself over to my dreams. Those too real dreams where I would be with her, and she would be smiling and her hair would be flowing and her smell would be all around me. Only to wake up to an empty room knowing that wasn’t the case.

  I’m not that masochistic.

  Shit.

  By 1 a.m. I was done with all my delusional theories on what her problem was and was constantly asking myself why I even cared. She was no one. Just some girl. Who had sexy lips, and nice eyes, and a perky chest, and a firm ass that swayed when she walked and I could just imagine running my fingers down her waist and . . .

  Shit.

  I stared unseeingly at the moving objects on the TV screen. Nothing made sense, and I had no idea what I was watching. I glanced at my cell to check the time.

  1:30 a.m.

  I wondered what she was doing, whether she was up and restless because of me, like I was because of her. Would she be sleeping soundly and having dreams that didn’t make her ache for them to be real when she woke up?

  I looked over at the east wall of my room and stared at the object in the corner. It had been weeks, months even. For some reason I had lost the desire to walk over there and lo
se myself. But now it was calling to me. It sat silently against the dark corner, beckoning me to its sleek, smooth structure.

  I pulled myself off my bed and padded across the room, not caring about the time, or the fact that my family was sleeping. I did the one thing that I had been refusing to do for too long.

  At 1:35 a.m. I pulled out the padded black leather bench, pushed back the smooth wooden lid, and drowned myself in the ivory keys of my piano.

  I let the melody run through my mind and pour out through my fingers onto the keys. Giving it a test run, I changed chords and added a random melody. I thought about how much I had this urge to be with her, see her smile, see her laugh, see her eyes close peacefully like she did when she was on the bench alone. Before I showed up and ruined it all.

  I changed the tone of the melody as I thought about how she laughed and smiled when she was in school.

  I wanted to be the reason she smiled. I wanted to be the reason she laughed. Dammit, I wanted to be the reason she was peaceful. Instead I made her angry.

  I brought the melody to an end, shifting it to a lower, melancholy key, and slumped on the bench. The urge. The ache to be with her was pulsing strongly and I didn’t feel calmer, as I’d hoped. I felt worse.

  I went back over to my bed and picked up my cell glancing at the time again.

  1:50 a.m.

  If I can’t sleep because of her than why the hell should she?

  I put on some pants and a black tee and grabbed my car keys. The melody of my piano playing still strolled through my mind. I had to see her. Whether she wanted me to or not.

 

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