“Ahh, I don’t know what to say,” Hunter stammered. “Uh, I apologize?”
Romeo was still stone cold.
“Try it a different way,” I said to Hunter.
He was confused. “Try what a different way?”
“Your apology?”
He growled petulantly, “How many different ways do I have to say it?”
“As many ways as I had to tell you I had a boyfriend?” I sneered.
“Huh?” Hunter was dumbfounded.
I rolled my eyes, “Don’t you remember how many times I’ve had to say ‘no’ to you over the last two months, Hunter? I was starting to think I was going to have to file a restraining order against you. Because you never give up.” I suddenly realized what I was saying to Hunter was what I had wanted to say to Damian Wolfram for the last three years, but never got to. Lecturing Damian in effigy felt great. I wanted to do more of it. I smiled inwardly. No more stupid jerks were going to walk over me. “Hunter, maybe you should try apologizing to people you hurt at least as often as you try to get in a girl’s pants.”
Hunter chuckled. “No way.”
Like that was a surprise. “Let’s go,” I said to Romeo.
I turned down the path with Romeo and walked right into Christos.
“Christos!” I was so happy to see him. “What are you doing on campus?”
“I decided to hit the Rec Center gym. I haven’t worked out in a couple weeks. Needed to blow off some stress,” he smiled as he slid his thumb across my cheek. “More importantly, I knew you’d be coming out of class about the time I finished up.”
I liked the sound of that.
Christos wore a heather-gray hoodie, the hood pulled over his head. The sweatshirt was unzipped, revealing his naked chest and Fearless tattoo, and his stunning abs. He glistened with sweat, sexy as hell.
Yeah, Christos put Hunter to shame in the looks department. Pretty was nice, but ruggedly sexy was ten times better.
“Where’s your shirt?” I asked Christos.
“Too hot,” he smirked.
Too hot was right. His blue eyes beamed into my heart. I noticed his jeans rode low on his narrow hips, revealing the tapering wedge of his lower abs. Shiver.
“Do you work out dressed like this?” I asked.
“No,” he chuckled. “Too many of the women at the gym were having heart attacks, so the management makes me keep my hoodie zipped while I’m lifting.”
That was my Christos.
“Hey, C-Man,” Romeo said abjectly.
“What up, Romeo,” Christos smiled, obviously happy to see him. “How you been, my man?”
“Oh, uh,” Romeo still sounded distraught after the blow from Hunter. “I’m okay.”
I felt terrible for Romeo. I wasn’t sure what might cheer him up. He was always so energetic and happy, I’d never seen this side of him before. Maybe he needed ice cream. It always worked for me.
“Is this your boyfriend?” Hunter demanded petulantly.
I’d forgotten he was there. Damn. Too bad. “Yes, Hunter, this is my boyfriend Christos.”
Christos extended a hand without a second thought. “What up, man. You must be the model from Samantha’s sculpting class?” He was smiling at Hunter. “She says you do good work.”
Hunter stared at Christos’ extended hand, but didn’t shake it. “Yeah, I’m the model.”
I could tell Christos sensed Hunter’s edginess, so he lowered his arm. “Samantha told me you’re a friend of Marjorie Bittinger?”
“She did, did she? What else did she tell you?” Hunter sounded like a spoiled baby. Was he intimidated by Christos?
Christos chuckled confidently. “She also mentioned that Marjorie has a thing for you.”
Hunter scoffed. “So?”
“So?” Christos grinned. “Marjorie is a total cougar fox. Why aren’t you hitting that shit?”
I suddenly realized what Christos was doing to Hunter. He was a freakin’ genius. Rather than confronting Hunter like a defensive silver-back gorilla who only knew how to jump around and bang his chest or fight, Christos was trying to steer Hunter toward the path of least resistance. No matter how much I disliked Marjorie Bittinger, I could honestly say that she was an attractive woman, and she couldn’t have been older than 40. I thought every guy had an older woman fantasy.
With Marjorie literally begging for Hunter’s attention, I couldn’t figure out why Hunter was wasting his time on me. Thrill of the hunt? Maybe that was all. Hunter liked hard-to-get. Sadly, impossible to get was all I could ever be for him. Did that mean he would try harder? I hoped not. I really didn’t want to deal with him anymore, not after how he’d treated Romeo.
I leaned into Christos, nuzzling my cheek against his chest. Wow, even straight out of the gym he smelled like man-candy to me. I inhaled deeply.
Hunter chewed his lower lip, flashing some canine as he glanced between me and Christos.
“Dude,” Christos offered to Hunter, “if I wasn’t totally in love with Samantha, I’d be knocking on Marjorie’s door myself.”
“Be my guest,” Hunter said. “You take Marjorie, I’ll take your girlfriend.”
Christos blurted out a short laugh. “Sorry, bro. No dice. Samantha’s with me.” Christos smiled, not a hint of doubt in his tone.
“For now,” Hunter growled.
“Dude, relax,” Christos smiled. “I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to get me all worked up, maybe get me to throw a punch at you.”
A dark smile crept across Hunter’s face.
“But I’m not in the mood. I just finished working out. I want to go have dinner with my girlfriend, and my good friend Romeo.”
Romeo brightened when he heard that.
“So do us a favor,” Christos continued, “go find Marjorie, and take her out to dinner. From what Samantha has told me, you’ll probably have her in bed before dessert.” He paused thoughtfully. “You know how they say that women reach the sexual peak between thirty-five and forty-five?”
Hunter didn’t answer. Instead, his smile darkened further.
Christos continued, “By that statistic, Marjorie is peaking. Like, totally at her best. You’ll probably bang her ten times tonight. I always preferred fucking over fighting anyway. Go get Marjorie, man,” Christos said with total sincerity, “You’ll have a blast.”
Hunter nodded sarcastically. He took a step forward, his weight on the balls of his feet. “You’re a pussy. You’re afraid to fight.”
Hunter was insane.
CHRISTOS
“Do I look afraid?” I asked Hunter, holding my ground.
Hunter chuckled at me. “Yeah, I totally smell pussy.” He took another step toward me.
I sighed. I was out on bail. I didn’t need this shit. “Dude, I’m not going to fight you.”
“Because you’re all bark and no bite, bitch.”
“Come on, Hunter. When have I barked at you? I’m trying to help you out. Me and Samantha are tight. Marjorie Bittinger, who is hot and ready to fuck your shit, is waiting for you back in the Visual Arts building.”
Hunter frowned. “How do you know that?”
Christos sighed, “Because I know where the sculpting studio is, where Marjorie teaches. So quit stalling, and go get her, man.”
Hunter shook his head slowly, his grin widening into a predatory smile. All fangs.
I rolled my eyes at him. I would be happy to tear this guy up, but there was no way I was doing it on campus, in front of Samantha and Romeo. If Hunter wanted to sign a waiver and go into the ring, I’d be all over it. But I could tell he was psyching himself up, trying to convince himself that I was afraid, and now was his opportunity to get me out of his way and get to Samantha.
Really?
Hunter took another step forward.
“Samantha, Romeo,” I said, “Please back up. Hunter is not going to be happy until he gets his way.”
“What?” Samantha gasped. “No, don’t, Christos.”
&nb
sp; “It’s okay,” I reassured. “This will be quick.” I pulled off my hoodie and tossed it to Samantha. Maybe if Hunter saw me pumped up, fresh from the gym, saw all my ink on my arms, he might finally back down.
“Quick for you,” Hunter snarled at me.
Nope, he was an idiot. I rested my hands on my hips casually. “Please, dude,” I laughed, “do something already.”
Hunter’s hands curled into fists. He wasn’t sure what to do.
“Now or never,” I said.
Hunter took a step forward, but he was still a mile away from being a threat.
“Okay, man, I’m tired of waiting. I’ve got shit to do.” I turned to Samantha, knowing what was coming.
Hunter charged my back.
I sank and pivoted on the ball of one foot while sliding my other leg out with my toes curled up to hook around his ankle.
I tripped him.
Hunter spilled into the dirt on the side of the trail, kicking up dust and fallen Eucalyptus leaves.
Romeo and Samantha laughed.
“Chill, you guys,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Hunter sat up, his face covered with dirt.
I hoped he’d skinned his knees like the child he was.
With my arm around Samantha and Romeo at our side, the three of us walked down the pathway together.
“You guys hungry?” I asked, taking my hoodie from Samantha and sliding my arms through the sleeves.
“Hungry for you!” Samantha said when we were out of Hunter’s earshot. “Rawr!”
I chuckled.
“Me too!” Romeo said. “Double rawr!”
“We need to find you a man, Romeo,” I said.
Romeo smiled bashfully at me. “How about you, C-Man?”
“Dude, you would totally break my shit in half,” I smiled confidently. “I meant a man who could actually handle you.” I winked at Romeo and slapped him good-naturedly on the back.
Romeo laughed. “You hear that, Sam? Christos has finally confirmed what I’ve been telling you all along. I’m too much of a man for even the manliest men!” Romeo pumped his fist and jumped, bicycling his feet in the air.
Samantha chuckled at him.
“What do you guys want to eat?” I asked. “I’m buying.”
“You!” Samantha and Romeo chorused before looking at each other and laughing.
We walked to the Student Center together.
Chapter 21
SAMANTHA
The next day at school was a long one. I had classes all day and a shift at the art museum afterward.
When I got off work, I was exhausted and starving. At least with my two jobs, I felt like I had enough money to eat right. No more protein bars for lunch and Mac & Cheese or Ramen for dinner.
On the way home from SDU, I treated myself to take-out in the form of a Carne Asada burrito with extra guacamole from Roberto’s.
Of all the various “-berto’s” taquerias in San Diego: Royberto’s, Rolberto’s, Rigoberto’s, Alberto’s, Tio-Alberto’s, Filiburto’s, Gualberto’s, Nolberto’s, and all the rest, Roberto’s was by far the best.
Even though it seemed like most everything else in my life was dragging me down, at least I didn’t have to go hungry.
When I got to my apartment I dropped my bags by the door, grabbed a plate for my burrito, and sat down at my kitchen table. I pulled my burrito out of its paper sack and unwrapped it. My mouth was watering in anticipation. I’d been looking forward to this all afternoon.
As I lifted the savory burrito to my mouth, my phone bleeped. I set my burrito down and got up to pull my phone out of my purse.
My parents. Great. I suddenly had indigestion.
I answered on speaker phone. “Hello?” I sat back down at the kitchen table and took a huge bite of burrito. I was too hungry to wait any longer, even if it was my parents.
“Hello, Sam? It’s your father.”
Duh. Who else could he be? “Hey, Dad,” I mumbled around food. Mmmm, Carne Asada.
“Do we have a bad connection? It’s hard to understand you.”
“I’m eating.”
“What?!”
“I’m eating!!”
“Oh. Well, your mother and I wanted to check in on how things are going. Hold on, let me get her on the other line.”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t wait.
“Hello, Sam,” Mom said.
“Hey,” I said.
“She sounds garbled,” Mom said. “Is there a bad connection, Bill?”
I rolled my eyes again.
“She’s eating, I think,” my dad said.
“Don’t you know it’s impolite to talk with your mouth full?”
I chewed, rather than answer.
“Sam?” she asked.
“I’m chewing, Mom!” I mumbled over my extra-helping of exasperation.
“Mind your manners, young lady,” my mom barked.
“Can’t you wait to eat until after the call?” dad asked.
“I’m starving,” I argued.
“Your tone, Samantha,” Mom warned icily. She only used my full name when she was pissed. Good.
My dad cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. Good luck. “So, uh, Sam? Have you found a job?”
“Two.”
“Two?” he asked, confused. “Two what?”
“Two jobs!” I hollered. Man, they were killing me. Somebody get them some Q-tips.
“Samantha!” my mom growled.
I took another huge bite and chewed, pretending I was grinding my mom’s nastiness between my teeth.
“I can only assume that you’ve taken two because neither one pays sufficiently to cover your expenses?” my dad asked.
Damn, he was right.
“What, may I ask, are your two jobs?” Mom said sarcastically.
“I work at the art museum on campus and a convenience store.”
Mom chuckled. “A convenience store?”
O. M. G. She was as rude as Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse tonight. “So? It pays.”
“How much?” Dad asked.
“Do we have to go into this?” I asked, swallowing and wiping guacamole from my lips with a napkin.
“Your mother and I just want to make sure your jobs pay sufficiently to cover your living expenses,” Dad said.
“The museum pays ten an hour, and the convenience store pays eight-fifty. I have enough hours at both jobs to cover all my expenses. After taxes. Happy now?” I said snidely.
“Well that’s good to hear,” my dad said.
Nothing from my mom on the subject.
That was it? Geez, a congratulations would’ve been nice.
“Have you changed your major back to Accounting?” Dad asked. He was all business tonight.
“No,” I said.
“Oh?” my dad said thoughtfully.
That was strange. I’d expected my dad to be on the warpath when I told him.
I smelled a trap.
“You must be pretty busy with two jobs and classes,” Dad said.
“I guess.” I still smelled that trap.
“Sam,” my dad said with a distinct smile in his voice, “all you have to do is change your major back, and your mother and I will be glad to cover all your expenses once again.”
Spring! There went his trap.
“Think how nice it will be not to have to work two jobs,” he continued. “You can focus on your classes and have time left over to relax with your friends.”
Yeah, my dad sounded like the devil. He had that nice guy voice the devil always used when he was telling you how great everything would be after you signed away your soul in blood.
“I’m not changing my major back,” I said calmly.
There was a long, long pause from my parents. I enjoyed the silence, but I knew it wouldn’t last.
“Well,” Mom blurted with a cackle, “I hope you like working at a convenience store. I’m sure their retirement benefits are stellar.”
“I’m not going to work
there for the rest of my life, Mom.”
“What,” she scoffed, “are you going to be an artist?”
“Now, Linda,” my dad said, trying to calm her. “Sam is working. Two jobs, no less. We should cut her some slack.”
That sort of surprised me. He was usually on Mom’s side.
“No, Bill. Your daughter is making terrible choices. And you know what? I bet it’s that Christos character.”
“I don’t think—” my dad said.
My mom interrupted him. “It is him, isn’t it, Sam?”
I was shocked into silence.
“I’m right,” Mom said. “I knew it. He’s filling your head with all these crazy ideas about being an artist, isn’t he, Samantha?”
“No!” I protested. I pushed back my chair from my dining room table and began pacing the living room. I felt like I was suddenly on dangerous ground, and wanted to move, like I needed to run away from my parents. What else was new? Sigh.
My mom’s tone suddenly went friendly, which scared me. “Samantha, are you telling me that you’re no longer seeing Christos? Or have you found some other boy to waste your time on?”
“No! I mean, yes, I’m still seeing Christos!”
My mom chuckled throatily. “That’s what I thought. Bill, your daughter is spending so much time with this boy Christos, she’s lost her head. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later.”
There was something so disgusting about the way my mom had said it, like she was calling me a dirty harlot, just because I was in love. There was nothing dirty about my relationship with Christos. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom,” I growled.
“I don’t?” she chuckled.
“Calm down, both of you,” my dad said in an even tone. “Whether or not Sam is dating anyone is not what’s at issue. Sam has shown initiative, Linda. She has secured two jobs and is paying her bills. As long as she keeps her grades up, her personal life is irrelevant.”
Geez, did my dad think I was a robot? A computer to be programmed and set about a specific task? The way he’d called my personal life “irrelevant” spoke volumes. Groan. At least he was getting my mom off my back.
“Further,” Dad continued, “there’s no sense in her withdrawing from her current classes this late in the term, only to have to repeat them later. Sam, can you apply both your Oil Painting and Figurative Sculpting credits toward your General Education requirements?”
Reckless tsoss-2 Page 33