“Well, there won’t be any you-know-what happening … ever!” Sophie said with much more vehemence than she felt. “He’s just not my type.”
Lauren snorted. “Girl, that right there is every girl’s type. Hell.” She ignored Jessie’s hiss. “He’s even my type! All those tats and bad boy swagger … mmm! Mama wants a bite!”
Jessie giggled, looking amused and appalled at the same time. “Lauren, you are so bad!”
“Well, I’m not interested!” Sophie insisted, more to herself than her friends.
Thankfully, the service started then, saving her from spewing any more lies. Lauren’s mom, dad and brother called her over. Jessie touched Sophie’s arm before joining her mother, leaving Sophie alone with Joe.
“See you after service,” she said, starting towards where her family sat, a respectable nine benches from the front and five benches from the back.
Her parents weren’t the only ones there that morning. Jackie and the girl had joined them, claiming Sophie’s seat.
“Oh I’m sorry! Are we in your seat?” Jackie began to rise, nudging the girl to do the same.
Sophie shook her head, waving them back down. “It’s fine.” She smiled at the little girl—Suzy, she remembered Jackie saying was her daughter’s name—and sat. The girl just stared back, not blinking, not looking uncertain or shy, but the way possessed children stared at their next host before trying to suck their faces off. Sophie wondered if the demon force field around the church had been updated recently.
Further along the bench, on Jackie’s other side, Sophie’s mother glanced up and down the aisle with a fine line between her eyebrows. “Is Spencer coming back?” she asked Jackie. “He’d better hurry or he’ll miss the sermon.”
Jackie glanced back as well, lips pulling down at the corners. “I’m not sure. He said he was only running to the car for something and would be right back.”
Her mother pursed her lips, stole a peek at her watch and then at the door. “Sophia, could you run out quickly and just let Spencer know we’re starting?” she said, posing it as a question, but Sophie knew better.
“Why me?” She hated that she sounded like a five year old being asked to clean her room, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to go and look for Mr. Gorgeous-Jerkface. She didn’t want to go outside in the cold, wet rain. She didn’t want to sit next to the demon child still eyeing her, daring her to move closer so she could have a taste of her soul.
“Now, please!” her mother insisted.
Exhaling, Sophie rose to her feet and shuffled back down the pew. She caught Joe’s curious glance as she stomped down the aisle and she rolled her eyes. “Sit with us!” she hissed in passing.
He shook his head. “I’m good. Where are you going?”
“Find Spencer,” she said in her best mocking voice.
Joe began to get to his feet. “I’ll go—”
She waved him down. “It’ll take two seconds. No point us both missing the service and getting soaked.”
“Hurry back!” he said firmly, in case she had any ideas about running off and joining the circus or something.
Sophie snorted at his bossiness. “Yes sir!” Giving him a smirk, she hurried to the doors.
Outside it was still raining, not as hard, but enough to dampen her clothes and hair as she hurried alongside the church to the back. Why did she always forget her jacket? And why hadn’t she asked Jackie what car she drove? There were like fifty parked in the lot and she was steadily getting soaked.
“Miss me, Blondie?”
Sophie jumped, whirling around. She blinked rain from her eyes and squinted at the figure leaning casually against the back wall of the church. Spencer grinned at her, a lit cigarette poised at his lips. He’d pulled a zip up hoodie on over his t-shirt, she noted, wishing she’d thought of that as her teeth chattered.
“You can’t smoke in church!” she snapped, storming over to him and the shelter he stood beneath. It was an alcove where one of the top windows extended a little too far over the parking lot, creating an eave, but it was keeping the rain at bay.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I’m not in church.” His gaze roamed over her. He flicked the ashes away from her and made an appreciative noise that was a cross between a moan and a purr. “Nice dress.” But his eyes were focused on her chest area.
She glanced down at her dress, horrified to find it had become transparent in the rain, showcasing her underwear very clearly. She hissed through her teeth, folding her arms over her chest. “Don’t look, pervert!”
He snickered, taking another drag. “You’re wearing white, in the rain, without a jacket and I’m just a guy. We can’t help ourselves.” He blew out a plume of smoke.
“Aw!” She let sickly sweet venom pour from each word. “Poor baby.”
He slanted a glance in her direction from the corner of his eye. “A little too early in our relationship to call me baby, isn’t it?”
Sophie gritted her teeth. “I wasn’t …” She growled deep in her throat, refusing to fall into his trap. “Your mother sent me to find you!”
He turned his head away and she saw the small, silver hoop in his ear for the first time. It glinted dimly in the faint light. “Mission accomplished, Blondie. You’ve found me. Now run along back to your picture perfect life.”
“My life is not picture perfect!” she retorted sharply. “And your mom wants you inside!”
His head dropped back against the bricks as if he’d exerted the last of his strength holding it up. He stared up at the smear of gray overhead and brought the cigarette to his lips again. She watched the end flare a startling red before he expelled a lungful of smoke from the corner of his mouth.
“You know there’s nothing attractive about a guy who smokes!” She couldn’t stop herself from barking shakily as her entire body quivered with cold. “It’s a disgusting habit, like kissing an ashtray.”
The corner of his mouth tilted. “Kiss a lot of ashtrays, Blondie, or are you offering?”
Sophie huffed. “Of course I’m not offering! I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last man on earth!”
He hissed through his teeth, smoke billowing from his nostrils. “Good thing I have no intention of ever kissing you, eh?”
Sophie tried to think of something to say, but the lashing winds kept nipping at the wet fabric of her dress, licking her damp skin. She swore to herself that if she got sick, she would kill him in his sleep.
“Well, I don’t want you to kiss me!” Her traitorous gaze dropped to his lips. It was a damn shame such beautiful pieces of art belonged to such an ass.
“Glad we straightened that out. Now don’t let me stop you from going away,” he said evenly, never taking his eyes off the heavens.
Sophie bristled. “I’m supposed to bring you back!” she snapped.
Deftly, he flicked the remainder of the cigarette into a puddle where it frizzled out with a hiss. He shoved away from the wall and turned his entire body toward her. His head tipped back a fraction as he peered down the length of his angular nose at her, the silver in his eyes hard pieces of ice, like she was the cause of all of his problems and he’d like nothing better than to … what? Throttle her? Kiss her? It was impossible to tell when the light in them kept shifting and changing. A muscle bunched in his jaw and his lips pursed into a thin white line.
With an annoyed growl, he yanked off his jacket and swung it around her shoulders, almost choking her as he folded it beneath her chin tightly. It was warm from his body heat and smelled temptingly of spices, clean soap and damp earth and rain.
“You’re going to get sick!” he snapped accusingly at her.
Then, just like that, he stalked past her, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, can never get away.
Chapter Three
“I am not going to be his friend!” Sophie stuffed her binders into her backpack, ignoring the glower her mother was giving her from across the kitchen island. “The guy is a wo
rld class jerk.” Even if he had given her his jacket, which still baffled her.
She’d given the hoodie back after the church service and thanked him, earning her a glower before he stormed off without a word. She was almost convinced he had multiple personality disorder, the way he kept jumping from good guy to jerk. The whole jacket thing was probably some kind of fluke moment where his medication must have kicked in.
“He’s going through a rough time right now, Sophia!” her mother insisted. “It would be nice for him to have a friendly face on his first day of school.”
“Then he should have thought of that before he opened his mouth.” Homework safely tucked away, she swung her bag onto her back, adjusted the straps and turned to finally meet her mother’s gaze. “I’m going to Bill’s with Lauren and the group after school.”
“Invite—”
“No!” She shifted her hair out from beneath the strap of her bag. “I’m not going to do that.” She started for the door. “I have my phone! I’ll be home for supper. Bye!”
Westwood High loomed ominously against the gray backdrop. The slabs of gray concrete looked especially miserable in the dreary light. It was such a drastic contrast to the brightly colored umbrellas and raincoats.
Sophie was in no real hurry like everyone else seemed to be, racing to get inside and out of the rain. She studied the slow progression of her feet eating the pavement beneath her, drawing her that much closer to what would surely be another day of mental torment in the name of education.
It wasn’t as though she was bad at school. She just hated waking up in the morning. She hated sitting through an hour of Algebra wondering what sadist had decided adding the alphabet to an already complicated course was the best idea and if they were alive so she could kill them. The only timeslot she actually looked forward to was lunch.
Missing her weekend, she narrowly missed the scuffle of feet originating from behind her at an even clip. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to react, having never heard anyone come up behind her on that street. Jackson Avenue ended in a cul-de-sac and stretched all the way past the school towards Jefferson Street. None of the kids from her school lived around her. She had always been the only one to walk to school from the cul-de-sac. To hear footsteps was a thing of wonder.
She began to turn, curious to see the owner of the heavy boots, when a gust of wind snatched the umbrella from her grasp and flung it into the deserted street. Sophie yelped as rain splashed against her face. Her hair whipped across her eyes, blinding her. Cursing, she pushed her hair back and turned. Spencer was behind her, head down, hands buried almost to the elbows inside his pockets. He wore black jeans again, black boots and a Black Sabbath t-shirt under a forest green cargo jacket. There was a backpack slung over one shoulder and his hair was plastered to his face. He hadn’t noticed her, which gave her some hope. She could probably just walk away without ever having to make contact. But that would mean abandoning her umbrella and her mother had already warned her about losing another one. Getting skinned alive for something so small just seemed stupid, but she liked her skin.
With an exasperated sigh, she darted off the curb towards the umbrella not more than five feet away.
“Hey!” The frantic shout was drowned by the blare of horns and the squeal of tires. Sophie had no time to scream, when she was grabbed from behind and yanked backwards. The heel of her sneakers caught on pavement. She flailed as the world tipped. Lights flashed from the corner of her eyes. More squeals of tires, a flooding stench of burnt rubber and then she struck concrete with bruising force and was crushed beneath something heavy that knocked all the air from her lungs. The weight scurried off her, but she lay dazed and winded, mind reeling with a lot of four letter words that would have made her mother hiss.
“Sophie?” Trembling fingers swept wet tendrils of hair off her face. The soft hint of peppermint trickled into her nostrils as the voice panted anxiously. “Sophie!”
She groaned, wincing at the pain spiking off the walls of her skull. The weight above her shifted. There was a sigh of relief, a curse that matched the many swirling around inside her head and then a prayer of thanks.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” the voice growled. “Don’t you watch where the hell you’re going? You could have been killed!” Then it softened. “Where does it hurt? Can you sit up?”
Not without throwing up. Already her insides were tossing like an angry storm, threatening to come up all over her savior. Her back and neck ached, but she willed her eyes to open. The world twisted, looping like a kaleidoscope on crack. She groaned, squeezing her eyes closed before she followed through and hurled.
“Is she all right?” another voice shouted over the rain and noise. “She came out of nowhere! I tried to stop!”
“I’m calling an ambulance!” said another voice, female this time.
“Lucky you were there,” the first voice was babbling. “My tires skidded!”
“Nine-one-one? Yes, I want to report an accident.”
Oh crap, Sophie thought, willing herself not to succumb to the beckoning darkness.
“I’m okay!” she groaned, struggling to push off the weight still holding her down.
“No, you’re not!” a familiar voice said. “Stop moving.”
More forcefully, she shoved at the owner of the weight. “I’m fine!” To prove it, she peeled her eyelids open and squinted at the dark figure looming over her. “I was just winded.”
Spencer hovered above her, his face ashen, his eyes very wide and dark with concern. Tendrils of hair clung to his brow. Rain traced the plains of his beautiful face. Clearly she was fine if she noticed all that, right? “You hit your head!”
“I have a hard head,” she garbled, pushing to sit up.
He snorted, but wisely kept his mouth shut when she shot him a warning glower.
“You should stay down,” a woman said, still clutching her cell phone to her ear. “The ambulance is on its way.”
“No!” Sophie scrambled up, nearly crashing her forehead into Spencer’s face. He jerked back just in time to avoid a broken nose. “I’m fine! I’m okay!”
A crowd had formed around them now. Some of them, she noted, were kids from the school, probably drawn by all the commotion. The rest were people from the surrounding houses coming out to see what was happening. She groaned, wanting to die when she spotted several cell phones aimed in her direction, cameras rolling, probably streaming her mortification live.
“I’m fine! Really. I promise. Please don’t call—”
“Sophia?” Then, because her day just couldn’t possibly get any worse, her mother pushed through the throng of people and clattered towards her in three inch pumps. “Oh my Lord, Sophia!”
“Who … how—” Spencer was shoved aside and Sophie was engulfed before she could fully accept the horror unfolding before her.
“My poor baby!” her mother wailed … loudly.
“Mom!” Both patting comfortingly and pushing her mother away, Sophie tried to untangle herself from the suffocating headlock.
“What happened?” Her mother finally drew back just enough to grab either side of Sophie’s face. “I heard the noise from the house. I came out to see …” She sniffled. “What happened?”
“I’m fine!” Sophie pleaded even though that wasn’t the answer to her mother’s question. “I swear! Can we please just …?”
A loud whoot-whoot silenced the crowd. People parted and an ambulance rolled into the clearing, a white shark advancing on a wounded seal. Sophie had never wanted so much to just melt into vapors. She should have just given in to that darkness whilst she’d had the chance. Then she would at least be unconscious for this.
“Mom … Mom, please, please don’t let them take me. I’m fine!”
But her mother was already on her feet, waving the paramedics over. “Over here! Over here!” she kept saying between choked sobs.
Seeing no help there, Sophie turned pleading eyes to the only other person who may
be able to end her humiliation. She caught Spencer’s gaze, begging him silently not to let them take her.
The paramedics were on her, telling her to lie down and not move. Lights were flashed in her eyes. Fingers were thrust into her face and moved from side to side. She was pulled and prodded and lifted onto a stretcher. One asked what happened.
And without ever missing a beat, Spencer answered ever so helpfully, “She hit her head.”
Traitor! Evil, skeezy traitor!
Over the medic’s shoulder, Spencer met her eyes again and smirked.
Gorgeous or not, he was so freaking dead! She swore vehemently.
She was strapped to the gurney and rolled into the ambulance. Her mother went with her, weeping softly while clutching Sophie’s hand. No amount of assurance that everything was fine seemed to help ease the terror in her mother’s eyes. But she pulled it together a little better by the time they reached the hospital. Sophie was taken into a room and told the doctor would be right with her.
“Mom, seriously, I am fine!” she said for the millionth time.
“But you might not have been if Spencer hadn’t been there!” her mother scolded, as if nearly being hit by a car had been Sophie’s idea. “He saved your life!”
Not really, she thought. If he hadn’t shown up, she would never have been so distracted. She would have remembered to look both ways. She wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to grab her umbrella and run. So technically, it was his fault. Just like her being admitted into the hospital was his fault and her humiliation was his fault. He was to blame for everything short of Hurricane Katrina. Hell, with some time she was sure she could find links to his involvement in that disaster as well. The guy had a unique talent for infuriating her and she was sure he knew it!
She didn’t share her theory with her mother, or the nurse who came in to check on her, or the doctor who finally came to see her six hours later. She told them what happened, got poked, scanned, x-rayed, prodded, medicated and sent home to rest.
“She has a nasty bump on the back of the head, but no concussion and no broken skin, so she’ll be fine,” the doctor said. “Just keep an eye on her and if anything changes, bring her back.” Then, to Sophie, he said, “Check before you cross the street next time.”
Games of Fire Page 3