“Reasonable?” I say through clenched teeth and try to pull away from his grip, but he tightens his long fingers around my hand. “You think I should be okay that you’re too embarrassed to be seen with me?”
He furrows his brow. “I’m not embarrassed of you.”
Maybe I should give him a chance? “Great, then meet me at Drakes tomorrow for lunch.”
He shakes his head. “Nat—”
“Stew,” I growl, “if you say no, I suggest you get up and find another place to sit.”
His gray eyes soften, and his voice shakes a little. “Nat, please. I think I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I jerk my hand free and turn my attention to my backpack, pretending to search for something so I won’t have to look at him. My eyes sting as he rejects me yet again, and I blurt, “You don’t love me.”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” he whispers. “My Dad won’t let me see you. You know that. If word got around campus that we’re together, it’s only a matter of time before he finds out.”
“So that’s it then. Your dad says no, and you won’t fight for us. Stew, if you loved me, you’d stand up to him.”
“Do you know how hellish my life would be if I defy him? I’d loose everything.”
“You’re being dramatic. He wouldn’t kick you out on the street because you’re with me. He isn’t that evil.” My eyes meet his. “If you love me, you’ll prove it.”
He bites his lip. “You don’t know my dad. He would send me off somewhere…away from you.”
“No he wouldn’t.” I shake my head and then turn away from him. “Besides, you’re an adult. He can’t control your life or force you to go anywhere.”
He sighs heavily and starts to gather his things. “You don’t get it.”
He’s really going to move. Do I mean nothing to him at all? My body trembles and I debate on running from the room before I burst into tears.
Just as he rises and his tall frame towers over me, Woods turns her attention to him. “Have a seat young man.” Stew slumps back in his seat with a thud while the professor explains we need to work together with our tablemate on our project.
Great. Forty more minutes to go and the last thing I want to do is talk to Stew. I need to toughen up. If he’s going to write me off, then I have every right to give him the cold shoulder and treat him like every other snob on this campus.
I take out my black notebook and turn to a crispy new sheet. “Ideas?” I ask dryly, not making eye contact with him.
“Nat?” he whispers.
No way am I going to forgive him for this. “Look Stew, I’m done talking. Let’s just get through this project, so we can go our separate ways.”
He raises his eyebrows, blows a rush of air out of his nostrils and looks away from me. “Fine.”
Chapter Six
I have to come up with an idea for my art project A.S.A.P. because my list of possibilities is due at the next class, and I don’t think Woods will find a blank sheet of paper very amusing.
I park my car in front of the local bookstore and go into mission mode. I head through the front door and make my way to the books on famous paintings. Something in here has to spark my masterpiece. It’s nice in the store and I can totally get lost in the sea of books. This may be just what I need to clear my head and get my mind off Stew.
I search through all the titles and pull a few books from the shelf. There’s not much to choose from in this little Mom and Pop shop, but still, I’m able to find a few to thumb through. The smell of paper and coffee fill the room, relaxing me. I sit Indian style in the middle of the aisle and get to work.
“Are you my secret stalker?” My zone is broken. Rick, the hot new guy I saw earlier today, cradles a bundle of books in his hands. When I meet his gaze, he winks at me. I roll my eyes.
What’s this guy’s deal?
“Maybe I should ask you the same question,” I retort and direct my attention back to my book.
He smiles as he sits beside me. After tilting my book so he can read the title, he raises an eyebrow. “Art books, huh?”
“It’s for a project. What do you have?” He runs his hand through his thick, dark hair, almost like he’s nervous. I sort through the stack he set on the floor. There are several creepy titles and my breath catches as I read through them. Soulless: Real Accounts of Deals with the Devil, Demons in the Western World, and Lucifer: Friend or Foe. “Wow. Obsessed with the Devil much?”
He chuckles as he piles the books back into a neat stack. “No, not really. I just find this stuff…interesting.”
I raise my brow. “I guess I don’t have to ask why you’re trying to be my friend.”
He cocks his head to the side, and I notice how gorgeous he is. Definitively not someone I picture as a demon fan-boy. “What do you mean?”
“Look, I’m not into worshipping the Devil or anything. Dressing in black has nothing to do with liking evil. It’s a personal choice, and believe me, befriending demons is the last thing on my mind.” I shudder, getting a tiny flash of the five-year-old soul stealer.
“So, no Devil worship, huh?” He smirks.
I flip to a new page in my book. “Nope.”
“Well good thing that’s not why I’m trying to be friends with you.”
I set my eyes sternly on him. “Why are you trying to be friends with me? Most people try their best to avoid me.”
Rick draws a ragged breath. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to be an outcast. Not accepted by the rest of society.” His face is deadly serious, and his gray eyes thrash like there’s a million lighting bolts trapped inside ready to burst free. Maybe he’s not like the rest of the assholes around here. He doesn’t seem like them at all.
I nod, curious about why he would ever be an outcast, but knowing it’s too soon to push for details if I want to make a new friend.
“Come on. Let me buy you dinner?” he asks. His crooked smile invites me in and fills my belly with tingles. “Please?”
I can’t believe I just swooned a little. Even though Stew’s being an ass right now, I still have some sort of feelings for him. Why does Rick have an effect on me?
My bottom lip slides back and fourth between my teeth. Rick’s offer is tempting, especially since I am hungry. An apple for lunch doesn’t last long, and I want to find out more about this guy. His interest in me has me curious, but this is strictly as friends. “Sure.”
He smiles wider and hoists himself up from the floor. He’s taller than I remember, at least six foot, and his thin, black tee shirt outlines his muscular frame, leaving little to the imagination.
I trail behind him to the check-out counter and wait while he pays for his evil reads. He grabs his sack, and I turn toward the exit. He rushes in front of me to open the door.
“M’lady,” he says, with a hint of southern twang, and bends at the waist as I pass by.
Is he for real?
We head to the parking lot and suddenly I wonder if this is a date. I’m so not ready to date anyone else, but a friend I can definitely handle.
“So what sounds good to you?” he asks.
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever you want is fine.”
“Get in.” He unlocks the doors to his sleek black sports car with his keyless entry remote. “We’ll figure it out on the way.”
His car looks like the one that nearly crashed into me this morning. “You ever speed in this thing?”
He grins. “Sometimes I do like to take things a little fast.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. Should I even ride with such a maniac driver? I look over my shoulder at my little green Focus and bite my lip. Riding with him makes this a date, doesn’t it? Maybe I should just follow him.
I stop in my tracks.
“I’ll bring you back to get your car.” It’s almost like he read my mind. Can he sense how hesitant I am? “Now, get in.” I meet his stare as he opens the passenger door. “Promise I won’t bi
te…unless you want me to.”
He smirks as I walk toward him. If I wasn’t desperate for a friend, I doubt I’d get into some random guy’s car, but my life is what it is. Lonely. So, I nod and get in.
I slide into his passenger seat and inhale the scent of leather and spice that fills the interior of the vehicle. He hops in the car with the agility of a fine tuned athlete. It’s funny how things work out. I hoped to have friends this year, and my relationship with Stew led me to believe that I was actually going to have a social life. Instead, the cute new guy has stepped into the friend role. Maybe this will show Stew there are guys out there who want to be seen with me.
Rick pulls into the parking lot of Drakes’, a local sports bar, and cuts the engine. My muscles tense at the thought of going in that place. “Um, I know you’re new, and as your friend I should tell you this isn’t the best idea,” I say.
He furrows his brow. “Why?”
I run my fingers through my hair and stare at the neon “OPEN” sign. “Because this is, like, jock and sorority central. A place I don’t belong.”
He chuckles. “You worry too much. You belong anywhere you choose to be, Natalie. Besides, it’s just a restaurant, and the asshat crowd doesn’t own this place. Come on. I’m starving.”
Before I can say another word, Rick is out of the car. He opens my door and my body stills like the stone statues from the art books I studied earlier.
He leans in the car and his face is just inches from mine. “Come on. What are you afraid of?”
I tear my eyes away from his stare almost immediately. “I’m not afraid of those assholes. I just don’t want to hang out with them.”
He touches my arm. His fingertips are hot on my bare skin. “Then come on. I’m starving.”
With a little huff, I fumble my way out of the seat belt and follow him into the restaurant. I feel like there are cinder blocks strapped to my legs, and it’s twice as hard to make myself move. The strategically placed cowbell on the door announces our entrance to the rest of the patrons. I lock my eyes on the ground and run my fingers though my hair, wishing it could become a black veil and shield me from prying eyes.
Rick leads me to a corner booth. I slide onto the red vinyl seat across from him and slouch down, praying for the power of invisibility.
“Relax, Natalie. No one’s going to kick us out. Trust me,” he says as he hands me a sticky-worn menu.
“What’ll it be kids?” The red headed waitress appears out of nowhere with her pen and paper ready.
Rick directs her attention to me. “Natalie?”
“Um, a Coke and the hamburger platter,” I say.
“Make that two,” he adds.
The sweaty red-faced waitress nods and scurries off to get our order.
The front door bell rings and then I hear cackles and chatter coming from somewhere behind me. Rick stares behind me—his eyes set on taking inventory of the people who walked in. Even with my back toward the door, I can tell it’s the crowd I’m trying to avoid. I don’t dare turn around because I can lay money it’s probably me they’re laughing at. And if it is, honestly, I don’t want to know.
Rick doesn’t take his gaze off the people behind me. He has this intense stare like he could melt them if they crossed him.
Just as I was going to tell him to stop staring at them before he starts a fight or something he starts to speak. “So what’s your story, Natalie?”
With more confidence then I even knew I posses, I lean in close and give my most mischievous grin, hoping to throw his cocky ass off a bit. “You mean you haven’t heard?” I’m little surprised when he rests his elbows on the table, like he’s into the secret I’m about to drop. “I’m crazy.”
He smirks and leans back in the booth. His tattooed bicep bulges a little as he rests his arm on the back of the booth. He’s totally relaxed in this place, like he could care less that we are in unwanted territory. I study every inch of him that’s on display before me. He has a model face—well defined, strong jaw line, hair any girl would love to tousle around and not to mention that bad boy sleeve of tattoos that cover his right arm. It’s then I notice he has the most mysterious, yet familiar, stormy gray eyes. They kind of remind me of Stew’s color a little. Have I seen Rick before?
“I hoped those rumors were true,” he says.
After a split second of uneasiness about the odd color eyes, I shake my head. “And why’s that?”
His smirk becomes a genuine smile, and he makes a swirling motion around his temple with his index finger. “Because I’m a little nuts myself. Demon obsession, remember?”
He lets out a deep belly laugh, and after a few seconds of me trying not to be amused, I let a smile slip. He has no clue he’s not the only demon obsessed person here.
His laugh invites me in and I crave to know more about him. “So what’s your deal? What brings you to the big town of Columbus, Ohio?”
He leans back against the booth seat and stretches his toned arm along the back of the seat again. His boot touches my foot under the table. “You.”
My mouth drops as I’m stunned by his answer, but then I feel foolish as he starts to laugh. “Jerk.”
He smiles as me and then sighs. “Well, if you must know I needed a fresh start.”
My eyebrows crunch in. “Why?” That sounded a little invasive, so I try to recover. “I mean, that’s cool.”
He rolls his eyes. “I had a bit of a mess and I needed to get my shit straightened out.”
At that moment the waitress brings our food—completely interrupting the juicy details he was ready to spill. Rick tears into his burger, taking huge bite after bite. It’s like he’s a wild animal that hasn’t eaten for days.
I grimace and wonder if he was raised by wolves. “Jeez, breathe, Rick.”
He swallows and wipes a huge glob of ketchup from the corner of his mouth with his finger, then licks it clean. “Sorry, it’s just really good.”
“I see that.” Totally grossed out, I try to get back on track and try to push the image of Rick eating out my brain. “So, anyway, what kind of mess?”
He swallows down his drink. “A mess with a girl.” He states without hesitation.
I go into a coughing fit as I choke on my Coke. My eyes water from the sting in my throat, but I still ask, “You got a girl pregnant?” This is drama I don’t need to get tangled up with.
He laughs and shakes his head. “No. Nothing like that. It’s nothing really.”
Talk in circles much?
I wrinkle my brow. “What is it then?”
He shrugs. “It’s nothing, honestly. Forget I even said anything.”
After pondering what that could mean, I decide it’s best to let it go at that and not push him about it. God knows I don’t need my only almost-friend frustrated with me. I suppose he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
Rick polishes off everything on his plate in record time and pushes it to the side of the table. The waitress clears out the plates and lays the bill face down in the center of the table. I reach into my satchel, dig for my wallet, and hope I have enough money. Mom is so crazy. Even though I know she can’t legally control my money as an adult, I allow her just to keep her off my back. Sometimes she can be so damn overbearing. She only gives me enough money for lunch for that day because she thinks if I have an excessive amount I might try to buy more weapons.
There have been a couple times that the demon unfroze time at the most inopportune moments for me right in public view. I’ve been arrested three times for menacing and possession of a deadly weapon. Mom always makes sure my doctors know that I am constantly arming myself to battle a demon, which makes me sound completely fucking insane.
“Stop looking for your money. You’re my date, so my treat,” Rick says.
My hand goes still and I meet his stare. “This is not a date.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “No?”
I shake my head. “No.” I can’t have him thinking this is more than a friendsh
ip thing. The last thing I want to do is give the boy demon another target.
His lips twitch. “Well damn, just when I thought I was getting somewhere with you.”
Since this isn’t a date, I pull out my wallet. Before I can get the money to pay my half, Rick slips the waitress some cash and tells her to keep the change. Her eyes enlarge, nearly to the size of golf balls, as she examines how much money he slipped into her hand.
This so doesn’t feel right. He’s going to get the wrong impression, but I’m not ready to spill my guts about my problems with Stew. I need to explain I just want to be friends. “Rick—”
“You can pay next time, since we’re friends now.”
Relief floods me as he slides out of the booth, and I follow his lead while grabbing my bag off the seat. As I sling it over my shoulder, my eyes land on the prep crowd. Stew’s at the table amongst them with Taylor at his side. His gray eyes glare—like they’re about to wage war—when Rick and I pass by. The nerves in my back twitch as I feel Stew’s stare on me.
“There’s definitely something going on between you two that you’re not telling me,” Rick whispers in my ear as he opens the door to let me outside.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say and avoid direct eye contact with him and zip past.
I attempt to rub the tension from my neck as I step out to the parking lot. Damn. Am I that easy to read?
Rick follows me toward his car. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed, you know.”
I swallow hard. “What?”
He opens the car door for me and continues. “Yeah, that Taylor girl made it a point to come talk to me after she noticed us together.”
I stand before him and fold my arms. “What did she say?” I growl.
His mouth tweaks to the side in amusement. “Wow. Not a fan, I see.”
My eyes roll. “Not really, no.”
“Obviously.” He chuckles. “Well you’ll be happy to know, your nemesis felt compelled to warn me to stay away from ‘The Psycho, Natalie Sugarman’ and wanted to know if you’d said anything about Stewart Masterson. Apparently, she’s afraid you’re obsessed with him because of all the staring.”
Demon at My Door Page 4