St Mary's Academy Series Box Set 1

by Seven Steps

  He barked again. Only, this time, it wasn’t directed at me. It was directed over my shoulder.

  I turned around.

  Cole was standing in the doorway, his eyes wide, mouth open, his body tense.

  I screamed and immediately covered myself with my hands, which was ridiculous because I was still wearing the towel that covered me down to my knees. My cheeks turned beet red, my face on fire.

  How long had he been standing there? Why didn’t he say something?

  “Get out of here you … you … peeping Tom!”

  His head shook slightly, as if awakening himself from a trance. He closed his mouth with a click, muttered sorry and moved out of my doorway, presumably in to the living room. I threw myself at the door, closing it tight.

  My heart raced, as if trying to escape from my chest. I imagined it jumping out the window and, for a moment, wished that I could, too.

  Cole had just seen me singing to my dog in a bath towel. My stomach hurt so bad I thought I would puke. I couldn’t face him now. It would be too embarrassing. I slid down the door, the wood rough against my skin. My head fell back and I let out a breath.

  God. Why did these things happen to me? Why didn’t he say something?

  The thought made my lungs tight. Anger mixed with my embarrassment then overpowered it.

  If Cole thought he could just walk in to people’s houses and stare at them, he had another think coming.

  I threw on a pair of shorts and a capped sleeve Wonder Woman t-shirt and stomped out of the bedroom.

  Cole was sitting on the couch. His eyes were glued to the floor. His body was still.

  “I don’t know how you operate in your neighborhood, but here in Brooklyn, you knock before you walk in to a stranger’s house!”

  “I did knock,” he said, not looking at me. “The door was cracked and I heard music so I let myself in.”

  “You can’t just let yourself in. This is Brooklyn. People get shot for that sort of thing.”

  “Shouldn’t you be glad that it was me and not some creep.” His shaky fingers slid through his hair. “Jeez. If it had been someone else, do you know what could have happened? They could have … I mean … Jeez, Bella!” His voice raised to a roar and he jumped to his feet, his eyes full of fire. “Lock your freaking door!”

  His outburst momentarily halted my anger. His eyes pinned to mine and there was something there. Concern. Fury. That sadness that hung over him like a shadow. There was so much emotion there that my lungs tightened. I swallowed to loosen them.

  He broke eye contact, his gaze dancing around the room. Looking at anything but me.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. If the door had been open then it was lucky that Cole had found it first. Who knows what could have happened otherwise?

  I cleared my still tight throat and clasped my hands behind me.

  “We both have raised valid points,” I said, my voice even and sure. “I should have made sure that the door was locked and you should have announced yourself when you saw me … uh … whenever.”

  He turned his back to me, dropped his head and placed his hands on his hips.

  “I think that my point is a little more valid than yours,” he said, not turning around.

  “Then we agree to disagree. Let’s get the project over with and never speak of this again. Deal?”

  “Whatever.”

  He threw up one hand and dropped to the couch, sliding as far away from me as he could.

  I rolled my eyes. Why was Cole so concerned about me anyway? He didn’t get to treat me like a mutant then pretend to be concerned about my safety. He didn’t get to do that. It wasn’t allowed.

  I pulled my notebook from the table and muttered, “You should have said something when you saw me in my towel.”

  “Learn to lock your doors,” he replied quickly.

  I frowned at the side of his head and opened my notebook. He was right about one thing. This project needed to be done as soon as possible so that Cole and I never had to speak again. Ever. The sooner he left, the better.

  “So, we’re working on a Midsummer’s Night’s Dream?” I asked.

  He frowned. We hadn’t talked about what Shakespearian work we were going to do, but A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream was my favorite. If he said no, I planned to fight for it, using idle threats if necessary. But it wasn’t necessary. Cole’s jaw clenched and his eyelids fluttered, like he was holding back a comment.

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  My mouth dropped open. I had made a group decision and Cole didn’t fight me on it. It was the first thing that we didn’t fight over since, well, ever. My embarrassment and irritation dimmed at my small victory.

  “Okay then.”

  I pretended to write something on my paper, just so that my hands could look busy. I wasn’t exactly sure what we were supposed to be doing and Cole wasn’t saying much of anything. Were we working on the essay first or the dramatic piece? I had no idea, but judging by the way his pen flew across the pages in his notebook, apparently Cole did.

  What was he writing? I raised an eyebrow, and leaned a little closer to see. It looked like the essay, but he couldn’t be writing the essay because we hadn’t discussed anything yet.

  “What are you writing?” I asked.

  “The assignment,” he replied shortly.

  I restrained myself from gritting my teeth.

  “What part of the assignment?”

  “All of it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Yes. All of it.”

  “You can’t do the entire assignment by yourself. Ms. Mitchell said that we have to work together.”

  He dropped his pen in to the middle of his notebook, looked at me and glared.

  “I don’t want to do anything with you. Especially not this assignment. Why don’t you go sing to your dog some more and let me finish working in peace?”

  I swore that Cole Winsted was the most irritating, pretentious, jerkiest boy that I had ever met in my life! I saw red, picked up a pillow and threw it at his head. He ducked at the last minute, his glare harsher now.

  “What was that for?”

  “For being a jerk.”

  “I am doing the assignment!”

  “Yes. Alone. It is a group assignment. We are supposed to be doing the assignment as a team. That means that you have to come down off your precious pedestal and actually speak with me! You know, collaborate?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Spell collaborate and I will let you see what I’m writing.”

  “How about I spell something else and then sic my dog on you?”

  “When did you become so violent?”

  “I can’t help it. You inspire violence.”

  A small smile came back to his mouth.

  “You still haven’t spelled collaborate.”

  I threw another pillow at his head. He ducked and it went over his head, landing on the other side of the pea green couch.

  “Drop dead, Cole!”

  “And fail this assignment? No way. If I don’t pass this class, my average will be as sucky as yours.”

  “You are one tenth of a point ahead of me.”

  “One tenth. One hundredth. Does it really matter?”

  My hands balled into fists. My heart beat hard. One more word out of Cole and I knew that I would punch him. I wanted to punch him.

  “Resorting to violence again, French? You’d better watch that. One might question your upbringing.”

  I lost it, flinging myself at him, fist flying. He caught me mid jump, gripping my flailing fist in his hands. Somehow, in the span of an instant, he tucked me against him and fell on to the floor with me on top of him. There was just enough room between us and the coffee table for him to roll on top of me and pin me to the ground.

  “Get off me!”

  His too wide grin fanned the flames of my anger.

  “You are the one who attacked me. Maybe you should apologize before I tell M
ommy and Daddy what you’re really like.”

  A hot breath left my nose.

  “My mother’s dead, you jerk. Now get off me before I scream.”

  All the blood drained from his face and he immediately sat back on haunches. Furious, I scrambled up and walked across the room, catching my breath. My anger burned so hot that I closed my eyes against it.

  “I … uh … I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Well, now you know. Happy?”

  “No.” He paused. I heard a hitch in his voice. “I … I didn’t mean … I mean.”

  “I know what you meant, Cole.”

  I marched back across the living room and sat down on the couch. I was tired. Tired of arguing with Cole. Tired of him saying terrible things to me. I wanted to get this project over with and for him to get out of my apartment.

  I pulled out my notebook and readied my pen.

  “What are we writing about?”

  Cole was still on the floor, staring at me, regret in his eyes.

  “Bella, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

  “Look. I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get this over with.”

  His eyes dropped from mine, and he sat back on the couch.

  “Fine.” His voice turned softer. “I thought we could start with an overview of the play, followed by character breakdown and overall themes. Then the conclusion. Simple.”

  “Fine. You do the intro, since you seemed to have already started it. I’ll do the character break down, you do the overall themes, and I will do the conclusion.”

  “Okay.”

  “Fine.”

  I sat back on the couch and began writing.

  Character breakdowns were simple. I would start off with the lovers and their families. Out of all the characters, my favorite was Helena. Poor, sweet Helena. Helena and I had two things in common. We were both in love with an unattainable boy and we’d gotten that boy through extraordinary circumstances. I wondered if Demetrius lived up to everything that Helena imagined after they got married. God knew that Jake didn’t.

  The tapping of nails pulled my attention from my paper. Mojo had reappeared, making a bee line for Cole. The traitorous pup—a pup that I had just sang my heart out to by the way—put both paws on the couch and whined a little, begging Cole to pat his head.

  “Hey, buddy,” Cole said. “Enjoy your peep show?”

  His voice held less of the tease that it once held. I could see that he was slipping back into the sad, dark, silent Cole that he’d been since yesterday. I didn’t care. A quiet Cole equaled a happy Bella.

  I tried not to glare as Cole scratched Mojo behind his ear. Mojo panted happily, before walking right past me, sitting on his bed and watching us.

  I expected Cole to say something like, cute dog, or some other small talk that a normal person would say. But he didn’t. He continued to work on his paper, his expression darkening by the second. What was with him? Why was he so moody like a girl?

  I told myself that I didn’t care what Cole felt. He was a jerk who’d basically just insulted my family and who insinuated that I was stupid every chance that he got. If he was in a bad mood, that was not my problem.

  My pen flew across the paper, discussing Titania and Oberon’s torrid love affair, but it was hard to focus. With Cole’s mood slipping further and further over the edge, it was hard to concentrate. My curiosity got the best of me. Cole and I weren’t friends, but my inquiring mind had to know why he was so miserable.

  “Long night?” I asked.

  “You can say that.”

  “Studying?”

  “No. Minding my own business. You?” His eyes rose to meet mine and I was shocked by the anger in them. He wasn’t tired. He was pissed. He was pissed at me? If anything, I should be the one pissed with him. Especially after the stunt he pulled with Jake when I fell, the unwarranted room entry and insulting my entire family lineage.

  “Why are you so angry at me? What did I do?”

  The anger deepened and he slammed his book shut.

  “I’ll finish my part tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll start working on the dramatic scene.” His bag rustled as he shoved books back inside of it.

  “Is this because I got in a fight with your sister?”

  “No.” He paused for a moment. “Regina deserved that.” A sigh escaped his mouth and his stuffing intensified.

  “Well, what is it then? Is it something at home? Is it something with football?”

  “You don’t like me,” he said, his eyes blazing. For some reason, my breath caught in my throat. Goosebumps skittered across my shoulders. My emotion’s whipped and whirled within me. Cole’s eyes were so full of sadness that it made my heart hurt. “And I don’t like you. You said it yourself. We are nemeses. You’re the Joker and I’m Batman. We’re complete polar opposites.”

  I frowned, trying to ignore this new, strange feeling that Cole caused to rise within me.

  “Why do you get to be Batman?” I didn’t know why I said it, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time.

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is that you don’t get to butt in to my life or ask me what’s wrong or how I’m doing.”

  I shook my head. How heartless did he think I was?

  “Uh, not sure if you’re aware, but I’m not actually some sort of crazy supervillain whose only goal in life is to screw you over. I’m still a human being. I mean, if you were on fire, I would pee on you to put you out.”

  He stilled, his face tightening.

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “You can tell me, you know.”

  “Tell you what?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  “You don’t have to act surprised. I already know.”

  I leaned toward him. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates. I could see his Adam’s Apple bob beneath his skin. I leaned a little closer, smelling the mix of vanilla and spice that wafted off him. I wasn’t sure why my chest was so tight. I swallowed and pulled a mask of sympathy over my face.

  “You’re on your period, aren’t you?”

  The smallest hint of a relieved smile ghosted across his lips before it was gone again, lost in his deep frown.

  “I’m not in the mood for games,” he replied, though some of the edge had left his voice.

  “How about one last one? I’ll play you for it.”

  “Play me for what?”

  “I’ll play you one hand of poker. If I win, you drop this piss poor attitude and go back to the Cole that I want to throat punch on sight.”

  One of his brows raised high on his forehead.

  “And if I win?”

  “That depends,” I raised an eyebrow, matching his expression. “What do you want?”

  I watched his Adam’s Apple dance again. He did that a lot when he was nervous. Uncomfortable.

  “If I win, nothing changes. I get to be as moody and miserable as I want, whenever I want, however I want and you have to promise not to give me crap for it.”

  The gauntlet had been thrown. I had to win this game.

  This miserable version of Cole sucked big time. There was no way that I was getting stuck with him for two weeks.

  I held out my hand.

  “Deal.”

  He shook it. I tried to ignore the way my arm heated in his gentle grip.

  “Deal.”

  Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves at the dining room table, cards shuffled and dealt, eyes watching each other’s for any semblance of a tell.

  He bounced his leg under the table. Did that mean that he was excited about a good hand, or anxious about a bad one? I couldn’t be sure.

  “All right, Cole,” I said. “Time to put up or shut up.”

  “You’re using idioms now?”

  “If they’re appropriate.”

  “I’m surprised that you didn’t pull out your cowboy boots and put on Kenny Rogers.”

  “I would have, but I thought that you might be embarrassed, what with you n
ot having cowboy boots and all.”

  “I don’t own any cowboy boots.”

  “Bummer. It’s been said that a man isn’t a man until he owns a pair of cowboy boots.”

  “Is that what they say in the weird, old western town you’re from?”

  “I’m from North Carolina. That’s in the south east. I know that geography isn’t your strong suit.”

  “So, you’re a Redneck. Even worse.”

  I shrugged. “That I may be, but I sure do play a mean hand of poker. Now, show me your cards.”

  “You first.”

  “Guests first. House rules.”

  “This isn’t even a house.”

  “Apartment rules, then.”

  “Fine.”

  He put down his cards on the table.

  A five, six, seven, eight, and nine of clubs.

  “A straight flush,” he said, a victorious smile on his face. “Guess you’ll have to deal with my piss poor attitude a little longer.”

  My face fell.

  “Yeah,” I said. “A little longer.”

  I placed my cards on the table.

  Ace, Queen, King, Jack, and ten of spades. A royal flush.

  I won! I stood up, my smile widening as his fell through the floor.

  “Now,” I said. “Go home, change your tampon, write your paper and come back tomorrow with a better disposition. Can you do that?”

  He bit his lower lip and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Rules are rules,” I said, leaning across the table. “Maybe you should practice smiling. Go ahead, give me a smile.”

  He did. He gave me the most gruesome smile that I’d ever seen. All big teeth and crossed eyes and shaking head. He looked like a weirdo monster. I laughed.

  “Perfect.” I grinned. “Just like that.”

  He realized that his plan to gross me out failed and he rolled his eyes.

  “Whatever. I’m sure that the deck was rigged.”

  “Probably. I always rig the deck in my favor.”

  One of his eyebrows quirked, before settling again. It was so fast that I wasn’t even sure that he noticed it.

  His phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. The relaxed expression that had settled on his face was replaced with an irritated one.

  “I have to go,” he said, rising and picking up his bookbag. “Practice your conjugations and how to say what’s in a house for French tomorrow.”