by J. N. Colon
This was going to be one long lunch period. I couldn’t imagine how the rest of my day would go if we shared any classes.
Chapter 3
I followed Jessica into the Theology classroom, my stomach filled with butterflies. If this teacher—any teacher for that matter—made me stand up and introduce myself, I was going to hurl.
“I thought teaching religion in public school was illegal or something,” I said, my eyes tracing pictures of ancient art on the wall. A blue Indian warrior with ten heads was locked in battle with an unseen foe. Next to it, an image of twelve men and women sporting togas sat on high-backed thrones. Another painting depicted a woman offering a shiny apple to a man as they lounged in front of a massive tree.
Jessica glanced over her shoulder, pushing her glasses up as she smiled. “It’s not church. No one’s preaching or worshipping. We’re just learning.”
It still seemed weird. I pried my gaze from the colorful artwork and surveyed the students settling into the rows of desks. The majority were females. And they were all primping, worrying over their appearances.
“Lena, I’m so glad I get to have the newest edition to Mystic Hollow High in my class.”
I turned toward the deep male tenor, my jaw dropping. “Woah.” Holy crap. Did I just say that out loud? I understood why there were so many females in this class. “I mean hello.” Blood rushed to my cheeks as I stammered.
My teacher was freaking hot!
Jessica giggled under her breath.
He smiled, ignoring my embarrassing blunder and extended his hand. “I’m Mr. Jensen. It’s wonderful to have a new face here.”
I took his warm hand in mine. Hello, Professor Hot Stuff. Mr. Jensen had to be in his twenties and dressed stylishly in jeans and a button-down black shirt.
He handed me a packet of papers, a few golden highlights glinting in his dark blond hair. “This is the syllabus. Lucky for you, we’re starting a new section today.”
“Cool.” Ugh. That was so lame.
His green eyes twinkled as I took the papers. “Stick with Jess here, and you’ll be just fine. She’s a smart cookie.”
A smile melted over her face, and she twisted the end of her ponytail around her fingers. “Thanks, Mr. Jensen.”
Did he realize every girl in this class—probably all his classes—was smitten?
He passed me a textbook. “You girls have a seat. I think there’s one available behind Jess for you, Lena.” He winked.
Most guys made that look cheesy. Not Mr. Jensen. No, sir.
“Okay.” I giggled and spun around, smacking into something hard and warm. I bounced off and would have fallen on my tail if a massive hand hadn’t snapped out, steadying me. I looked up—and up.
Jayson was staring at me with a blank expression. My heart sputtered.
Him again?
“You again?” I blurted. Several pairs of eyes left Mr. Jensen and locked on Jayson and me. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? Or even a simple thank you would have been better.
He arched one brow. “I could have just let you fall.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I hissed under my breath.
The edges of his lips twitched, and a tiny half-smile appeared. It was gone in an instant. I would have missed it had I blinked. But still, that millisecond of humor in his expression sent my pulse racing.
Kale appeared over Jayson’s shoulder, a lazy grin on his face. He was almost as tall as his friend. “Are you sitting with us, Lena?”
“No,” Jayson growled, shooting Kale a glare.
His friend only laughed and sauntered away.
I propped my free hand on my hip. “I believe he was talking to me. I can answer for myself.”
His head leaned toward me, his salty scent swirling up my nose. “Our seats are all the way in the back. You might trip walking that far.”
My jaw hit the floor, and Jessica squeaked behind me. It was a good thing my hair was down today because my ears were flaming. I did the only thing I could think of that wouldn’t get me a reservation in the principal’s office. I lifted three fingers. “Read between the lines, buddy.”
His lips remained flat, but his eyes lightened, and tiny crinkles appeared around them. He was definitely fighting a smile.
I wanted to call him a jackass, but now I was biting back my own grin.
Someone cleared his throat, and Mr. Jensen appeared. “If you two are finished with your little romantic tête-à-tête, I’d like to start class,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling.
Oh my gawd. My whole body burned.
The humor melted from Jayson’s face, and he stalked toward the back of the class where Kale sat, laughing into his jacket as if he’d heard the whole exchange. Jessica grabbed my arm and pulled me down an aisle.
“What was that?” she hissed under her breath, giggles breaking up her words. “For Jayson, that was as close to flirting I’d ever seen.”
I took the seat behind her, shrugging out of my jacket. It felt like I’d been dropped in an oven. The eyes lingering over me didn’t help. “That wasn’t flirting,” I muttered, resisting the urge to fan myself. “That was…” I had no idea. My gaze found Jayson’s, and he was staring at me. Again.
But this time, a line creased his brow, and he bit his lip, deep in thought. It looked like he was trying to figure me out and having a damn hard time doing it.
The feeling was mutual.
I broke away and turned to Jessica who was flipping through her notebook. “You could have warned me about Mr. Jensen by the way.”
She grinned. “He’s definitely not your average teacher.”
“Understatement,” I snorted. “He’s totally shmexy.”
“Okay, class.” Mr. Jensen closed the door, and I turned toward the front. “Today we’re going to start our section on Christianity.”
At least I was starting off with an easy one. I didn’t go to church regularly anymore, but I had attended Sunday school. I knew a heck of a lot more about this religion than something like Hinduism.
“Most religions begin with a creation myth, and Christianity is no different.” Mr. Jensen flipped on the overhead projector. Bible verses were splayed across the screen.
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And God said, Let there be light: And there was light.”
I continued reading the verses on the projector as Mr. Jensen began discussing the similarities of this creation story compared to the others they’d already studied.
“And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.”
A shiver spilled down my spine. It was referring to the makings of day and night, but something about it left me unsettled. It made me think of good and evil. For everything good in this world, there was an evil counterpart.
I mean, if I took all this stuff literally. Which I didn’t. Mostly.
“What about Adam and Eve?” Melinda asked, sitting prim and proper. Her arm candy, Austin, wasn’t in this class. “When are we going to learn about them and the Garden of Eden?”
Mr. Jensen gave her a patient smile. “We’ll get there. First, we have to find out how God made the universe.”
The Adam and Eve narrative always gave guys an excuse to put the blame on women. Sure, we may have created the original sin, but Adam didn’t have to take that fruit. He could have said no.
Before I realized what I was doing, I glanced over my shoulder. Jayson’s eyes shifted in my direction. My nape prickled at the intense, unreadable look. Luminescent gold began to swirl in those green orbs.
I snapped forward and released a ragged breath. I must have hit my head much harder than I thought. Eyes didn’t change color and they didn’t glow. That was ridiculous.
“There he is,” I said, meeting my father in the kitchen of our new three-bedroom, two-story craftsman house. Honey oak was everywhere, reminding me of a mountain cabin. It wa
s a far cry from our sleek, contemporary condo in Charleston.
He slowly leaned his head out of the stainless steel fridge, his brow arching at my dripping with sarcasm tone. He was a ruggedly handsome man—so gross I even had to admit that—with butterscotch eyes, a strong jaw, and silver curls.
The ladies considered James Raven a young silver fox.
Ugh. I just threw up in my mouth.
He was a former contractor and construction worker so he had a strong frame with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He also towered over my five-foot-nothing self, but he never used it to his evil advantage when we were arguing. He typically stooped to my level.
I dropped my books on the dark granite counter and propped my hands on my hips. “Thanks for waking me up this morning, dear father. I didn’t miss half my classes or anything because I’d slept through my alarm.”
He grabbed a beer and set it on the counter. “Dear daughter, thanks so much for asking how my day went at the new store. Everything is coming together perfectly, and I’m not stressed out one bit.” He dug a bottle opener out of the drawer, his sarcasm rivaling my own. “I have the best, most responsible daughter in the world who is quite capable of waking herself up for school.”
An unattractive smirk curled my lips, and I was three seconds away from giving him the one-finger salute—in my mind anyway—when he slid the beer over to a man standing at the other end of the counter, an amused smile on his handsome face.
“Oh, hi.” I ignored the warming of my cheeks. My dad could have warned me there was a witness.
“Lena, this is Max.” He motioned toward the man who, I could say without getting nauseous, was a hot older dude. “Max,” my father continued. “This is my well-mannered, very serious, not a cynical bone in her body daughter.”
Max raised his bottle toward me, crooking a smile that would make most females swoon. “Nice to meet you, Lena.” A few strands of gray sprinkled his shiny golden-brown hair.
“Likewise, Max.” I returned my attention to my dad. “Might I remind you, you raised me.”
He chuckled, deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “That I did. Your behavior is all my fault, kid.”
I definitely got my smart mouth from him.
My dad pointed out the window to a gray, two-story house. “He lives across the street with his nephew.”
“Cool.” I brushed the hair back across my forehead to keep my newest bruise hidden.
“If you ever need anything, you’re more than welcomed to ask,” Max said before taking a sip of his beer.
“Thanks, neighbor. Speaking of asking about things…” I smiled at my dad. “I don’t suppose you’ve had time to put my bed together.” I dramatically stretched. “Sleeping on that air mattress sucked.”
“Says the girl who slept through her alarm until lunchtime.” My dad never missed a beat.
I sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.” Air mattress here we come. Again. I certainly wouldn’t be able to put my bed together. I’d lose a couple of fingers and toes.
“Actually, Max’s nephew is putting it together right now.”
My head snapped back. “You let some strange dude in your daughter’s room alone?” My gaze shifted toward Max who continued to wear a humorous smirk. “No offense.”
He held his hands in the air. “None taken.”
My dad shrugged. “I thought you’d be happy about your bed.”
I scoffed. “What if he steals my collection of vintage vinyl?”
He made a face. “I hardly doubt a teenage guy is going to be interested in old rock records. That’s what music apps are for.”
“You’d be surprised. And these records are worth money.” Some of them—a few bucks at least. I spun on my heels and marched out of the kitchen.
“Don’t run up the stairs, Lena,” my dad called in all seriousness.
As a teenager, I should be quite capable of scurrying up a flight of stairs without tripping.
I wasn’t.
When I turned the corner to my room, a brawny guy with thick arms was dropping the frame of my wooden bed with a little less care than suitable. “Woah, muscles. Want to be careful? That’s an antique.”
The guy slowly turned, pinning me with a pair of hazel eyes.
Oh, craptacular.
Jayson Casteel was standing in the middle of my room, dwarfing everything in it including me. My heart skipped several beats while I took a moment to gather myself.
Who was I kidding? I was taking a moment to remember how to speak.
“Uh, neighbors?” I cringed. Really? I couldn’t come up with something better than that?
Jayson’s expression remained unreadable as he turned around and continued putting the puzzle that was my bed together. “Yes, neighbors. How lucky am I?”
I rolled my eyes, not that he could see. “Sarcasm is my thing. Stick to your brooding.”
I scrutinized my room, searching for anything out of place. That was impossible. Nothing had a place yet except my clothes. Crap spilled out of boxes and cluttered the hardwood floor. Pictures that hadn’t been hung yet leaned against the gray walls.
At least my dad had enough sense to have the room painted before we arrived. It had been bright pink. I would have died if I had to live inside a Pepto-Bismol bottle.
My gaze shifted back to Jayson. He had a presence that couldn’t be ignored. All six-foot-something of him was coated with strong muscles that moved as he worked. His dirty blond hair glistened in the evening sun pouring in through my windows overlooking the street, and my room was perfumed with his scent.
My mouth watered.
Jayson glanced over his shoulder. My brow arched, daring him to kick me out of my own room. He was intimidating, but I wasn’t about to run off with my tail between my legs.
Instead, I sauntered toward my closet, shedding my jacket and tossing it on a hook. My eyes landed on my dresser where a black bra was carelessly lying next to a sweating water bottle.
Flames licked at my face. Oh my gawd. He’d clearly seen it.
I silently groaned as I tiptoed over, yanked a drawer open, and tossed it inside. I accidentally closed my shirt in it and shook the entire dresser as I tried to walk away. Jayson glanced up from the post he was screwing in.
A tight smile crossed my lips as I ripped the material out. “Shirt got caught.” Stating the obvious.
One golden brow arched, but other than that, he remained impassive and silent.
I stuck my tongue out at him. Was I suddenly talking to a brick wall? He was capable of speaking, so what was with the silent treatment? We were alone. No one was going to discover his ability to carry on a conversation.
Whatever. I turned around to unpack one of the many boxes when my gaze landed on the piece of black material Jayson was using as a coaster.
A gasp exited my mouth as I yanked it up, unfurling one of my favorite t-shirts. I spun on Jayson who was already looking at me. “You used my AC/DC t-shirt as a coaster!” I shook it out, smoothing the logo. “This is vintage merch from the seventies. I found it in a thrift store stuck between a ratty flannel shirt and a pair of pleated, acid-washed jeans.” No one at the store had known what they had on their hands. I would have paid a lot more than five bucks for it.
Jayson stood to his full height, looking down at me with that stupid blank expression. “I thought I was doing you a favor by using a coaster instead of putting it on your wooden dresser,” he said. “It’s an antique too.” A ghost of a smirk formed across his full lips.
“Touché, Casteel.” I flicked my hand toward a towel folded on top of a box. “That would have been an obvious choice for a coaster though.”
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally before he bent and retrieved another pole, stalking toward the other end of the bed.
Once his back was toward me, I fanned my face. What did my dad have the heater on? Heatwave? Ignoring the brute in my room as best as I could, I trudged to a box, tearing it open.
Yes! I pumped my fist.
The rest of my records were inside.
I dragged the box over to the shelf I’d pretended to organize last night while stewing in my bad mood. Jayson’s gaze was heavy on me as I began singing “Carry on Wayward Son” under my breath.
“Must you do that?” he grumbled.
I stopped and held up a record. “You don’t like Kansas?”
His brow arched. “I don’t like the sound of a cat dying.”
My jaw hit the hardwood. How dare that jackass insult me in my own room? “Why don’t you sing a few bars, Celine Dion? I’m sure with your deep, rumbling voice you’ll sound real angelic.”
“You have no idea.” Something was hidden beneath his quick smile, as if he were sharing an inside joke with someone other than me.
Okay… I was just going to leave that one alone.
“What’s with all the old rock?” he asked. “You don’t like current music?”
I gently placed Dark Side of the Moon on the shelf. “I’m an old soul, I guess.” My dad always joked I was born in the wrong era. It would have saved him a couple hundred dollars if cellphones hadn’t been invented during my time.
Jayson’s brow arched as he stared at me, his gaze too heavy. I swallowed hard and turned away. This guy scored high on the weird meter. Even higher on the hot meter…
He resumed putting my bed together, and I returned to the box. After pulling out a few more records, I came across a heavy object carefully wrapped in newspaper. Of course I packed it with my other prized possessions.
I unwrapped the silver frame and gingerly positioned it on my dresser. The smiling woman had a killer tan. Her dark-chestnut hair and round, deep-blue eyes were the same as mine.
“Is that your mom?” Jayson asked.
“Yep,” I said. “The one and only Vanessa Raven.” My mom hadn’t passed her poise and grace on to me. While I was a train wreck, she was a vintage Corvette speeding down the freeway. Or at least that was what I’d gathered from my dad.
Jayson ambled over and grabbed the bottle of water, taking a sip. “Your parents are divorced?”