Long Live Dead Reckless Page 12

“I was afraid you would.”

  I laughed to ease the sexual tension that was billowing bigger between us, threatening to smother us if we didn’t submit soon. I was smiling like an idiot at what he’d just said and I needed to change the subject fast before I admitted I was already in love with him.

  “So, you’re in a band, right? Do you write all your own music?”

  He looked flustered, so he fiddled with the napkin on the table, folding it repeatedly.

  “Yeah, we do. But I’d really rather talk about you,” he replied, obviously uncomfortable.

  It wasn’t the worst thing a date could do – show total interest in the girl instead of talking her ears off like Spencer. Oh, Spencer. That crazy idiot. What had happened to him? I forced his memory into the back of my mind. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my evening with Sage. I must’ve been silent for longer than I realized. Sage looked concerned.

  “Hey, you all right?”

  “Oh, yeah, I just, um, go ahead,” I said.

  He was smiling with his eyes and his mouth.

  “We can talk about my band if you want. I just – I’m interested in knowing more about you. More than your name and where you work and the fact that you go to Cypress, I mean.”

  “There’s not much interesting about me, really.”

  “I think you’re interesting,” he replied, shrugging.

  I looked down at my hands in my lap. Sage was a major ego boost to be around. All he did was say polite, sweet things and make a girl feel valued. I thought I would explode from all the attraction building under the warmth of authentic manners.

  “You’re always full of compliments, aren’t you?”

  “It’s easy to compliment you,” he answered, folding his hands on the table.

  I dipped my head nervously. I kept doing that and I felt stupid, but I was caught in some reactive loop.

  “Thank you, Sage,” I said, blushing as I said his name. It felt so intimate all of a sudden.

  “Tell me what you like to do.”

  Daydream about you. Talk about you. Watch you workout. Imagine what you kiss like. Wish you’d touch me. Wish I could touch you. Think about you when I touch me…I couldn’t say any of my current pastimes. Still, he was waiting for my answer, so I had to come up with something.

  “Um, but I’m actually very outdoorsy. I hate hot weather, though. I like poetry. I’ve tried to write some, but I’m not very good, so don’t ask to read any.”

  “Ok, I’ll steer clear. What else?”

  “I don’t like kids. Working in the nursery is great birth control, you –”

  I stopped with my mouth open, realizing what I just said. I’m sure it made me very attractive to him, being so anti-kids. I couldn’t think of a recovery, so I sat there staring. He blinked a few times and tried to bite the smile out of his lips. He waved me off casually.

  “Hey, no judgment. I see what goes back there and I feel for you. Really. Now tell me about your family.”

  “I live with my grandmother right now. We call her Bosh. It’s Russian for grandmother. She’s Russian, in case you were wondering. You know, I just don’t want kids anytime soon. I don’t hate them or anything. I’m open to them in the future.”

  He gave an odd sort of smile as he sat back, leaving his hands resting on the table.

  “Sure, I get it. So what are you studying at Cypress?”

  “Oh, history and music.”

  “Double major, huh? Impressive. Favorite instrument?”

  “I know the piano and the guitar. Oddly, the triangle.”

  He grinned.

  “I bet you play a mean one. Do you sing?”

  “I don’t anymore.”

  “Anymore?”

  I cleared my throat and looked at him. I wasn’t ready to explain that I couldn’t sing without thinking of mom. I couldn’t tell him that she loved hearing me sing. I couldn’t tell him that music was a part of my soul and that soul shattered when she died. I couldn’t go there without crying, so I went somewhere else.

  “So, what are you studying?” I asked.

  I could tell he still wanted to know why I was a music major who didn’t sing, but he took the social cue like a champ. He stretched his arms out in front of him, fiddling with the napkin.

  “I’m not a student. I’m on campus sometimes to tutor linguistics. It’s my second job.”

  That was intriguing. I knew he was a few years older than me, but he was basically a professor?

  “That’s – wow. Are you serious? So are you like a student-teacher?”

  The waiter interrupted us as he brought our drinks. I had ordered a Cherry Coke and Sage ordered water. I regretted ordering a drink since he didn’t. I hated feeling like the girl who gets stuff she doesn’t normally because a date’s paying for it. Sage didn’t seem too concerned about that. He thanked the waiter as I tore the paper off my straw and plopped it in the fizzy goodness. Sage was busy emptying salt into his water.

  “Is that…good?”

  “This? Oh, it’s just lemonade. My mom showed me how to make it once. It’s always better than ordering it.”

  That made me feel better about ordering a Coke. I watched the un-squeezed lemon float in the water.

  “Well, so far I know you’re a musical linguistics tutor with strange taste buds. What are you doing in Cypress? Aren’t you bored yet?”

  He took a long gulp of the lemonade.

  “So staying here for the rest of your life – not an option for you?”

  I stared at him.

  “Um, yeah, no. Once I finish next semester, I’m out.”

  “Going where?”

  “I don’t know yet. Just not here.”

  “Do you like to travel?”

  “I’ve never been anywhere, but I’d love to go everywhere, so I think it’s a yes?” I answered, imagining touring some ancient, romantic city on Sage’s arm.

  “That’s a yes,” he said, nodding.

  The food came out quickly. Thankfully, dinner went smoothly and without incident. That is, I didn’t do anything embarrassing like choke or smile with broccoli in my teeth. Later I was so happy that I didn’t order broccoli because I smiled a lot. I couldn’t stop, really. Once we found our seats at the theatre, Sage and I sat in silence. Every few seconds, we would lock eyes and smile the same shy way only to retreat our attention into whatever seemed interesting around us.

  Honestly, I was more nervous at the play than at dinner. I couldn’t figure out why. I think because it would be dark. Not that Sage was handsy. Just all of my sexy daydreams about Sage were in a dimly lit place. Those daydreams happened so often I was actually afraid on some level that I’d trained my brain to attack him when the lights got low enough.

  We were on the beginning of the row and the seating was tight, so when someone had to go by us to get to their seat, I had to touch him. The seats didn’t fold up, so I leaned and turned my knees towards him until they were against his thigh. I was blushing like crazy every time I did that, so I was never more grateful for the low lighting. When a large man tried to get by, Sage turned my way and put one arm over the back of my seat and the other on the armrest where his fingertips accidentally brushed against my thigh.

  “Oh…sorry,” he apologized.

  “It’s ok,” I said, wishing he would do it again.

  He curled his fingers up tight after that, and I wasn’t going to kick my leg up to be caressed no matter how much I wanted to. Instead, after an agonizing minute, I stretched my hand from my lap and barely touched his. He glanced down and relaxed his hand, letting the tips of our fingers curl into each other.

  “It’s…ok?” he asked, looking at me through the tops of his eyes.

  I nodded. The way we looked at each other then, I wouldn’t have known if the theater exploded around us. I wanted to stay touching all night. His body was warm and close. It felt like home. But when the lights overhead flickered to signal the curtain,
the spell was broken. We took in the same breath and took our fingers back, straightening in our chairs.

  Disappointed, I tried to fix the flyaways in my hair as the play began. Our hands rested painfully close on the armrests. I ached to hold his hand, or even touch him again, but neither of us made another move.

  When he drove me home, I had a hard time keeping a smile off my face. He was as charming as I had imagined. I hoped he would kiss me. God, I wanted him to. He walked me to the door and we stood there like all nervous first-date couples do, trying to figure out how to end the night. He wouldn’t even pretend to crowd me, so I knew no kiss was coming.

  “I had such a great time tonight,” I said.

  He nodded. Just as I turned to walk inside, I felt him gently hook a few fingers of my hand.

  “Wait.”

  I looked back, my heart skipping a beat. I slowly turned and leaned against the doorframe. No way was Sage going to kiss me on the first date. I had given every KISS ME NOW sign that I could, but no way would he do it. Yes, I could have kissed him, but I wanted him to have that moment. I wanted to let him be a gentleman and he wanted to let me be a lady. We fit that way.

  We stood there, our entangled fingers nervously caressing like skin was a new thing. He was so close that we were both breathing the same air and feeling dizzy for it. He leaned an arm up over me on the doorframe and studied my face. Oh God, he smelled so good, so male. I wanted to stick my entire face in his armpit. Thankfully, I acted sane instead. When he’d tortured me with his pheromones long enough, he gave a little sigh.

  “Well, good night,” he said, pressing his lips against my knuckles.

  His kiss made my knees buckle. I was glad the doorframe was holding me up. He gave a slight bow of the head and jingled his keys as he walked away. I watched him drive off until the taillights faded. When the street grew quiet and dark again, only the crickets were left in the world. Looking up at the clear, cold sky, I thought even the stars seemed to shine a little brighter than usual. But then again, it could’ve just been me.

  14

  All I did was think about him. I ran into a lot of inanimate objects thinking about him. And also a lot of animate objects, actually. I’m surprised I didn’t have more bruises after our first date. But I didn’t actually see him again until a few days later. He hadn’t called, either. I tried not to think anything of it as I walked across campus to a class I missed too many times. Professor Milton sent an email that said I’d to be safer dead in a ditch if I missed any more of his award-winning lectures. He signed the email with no less than seven emojis to make up for such a harsh statement.

  He was my favorite professor. I took him during my first semester at Cypress College, and he always seemed to like me. It was like having a really cool uncle on campus that acted more like a student than a professor. He did have a point about my absences. It was only the middle of the semester, and missing more class would delay my graduation date. Again.

  As I watched a swirl of colorful leaves dance in my path, I got lost in thought. I was proud of myself for carrying on a somewhat normal life since mom died. I missed a year of school while she was sick, so it would be spring before I graduated. I only came back to school because I knew she wanted me to, but my youthful zeal was gone. I had stopped being involved in clubs on campus. I had little direction, but no one would have known by the way I pushed forward.

  A familiar voice called out to me across the grassy courtyard, bringing me out of my head. I looked up to see Azalea walking towards me from a group of unfamiliar guys. Clad in a floor-length red brocade coat with a fur-trimmed neckline, she tossed her head back and gave a sly smile, nonchalantly sauntering past the big fountain across from the school library. It looked like a few of the guys from the drama department – Azalea’s friends. I’d never met them, and I wasn’t in the mood to, either.

  “Aren’t you hot?” I asked, gesturing to her coat. It was about sixty-five degrees outside.

  “Always. You know this! Sit down.”

  Azalea pulled me down to sit beside her on the ledge of the fountain like she’d rehearsed it a million times. Her eyes sparkled as she stuck her hand in the water. She was in a good mood. Not that it was odd, but it felt like she had a lot to say and I had to go.

  “Listen, I’ve got class. I’m already late.”

  She splashed me hard in the face. The water soaked the front of my cotton dress and outlined my bra.

  “Azalea!” I cried, leaping up.

  “What? Now you have an excuse.”

  She splashed me again, so I tried to cover my chest. My bra was out in the open now. Anyone could see it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You need to have some fun. You’re walking around all stiff. Is that lace? I’m so proud. I didn’t know you even owned anything like that.”

  “Yeah, thanks for showing the entire freaking world, Azalea. I really can’t miss another class, you know? I’m going to fail –”

  Before I could finish protesting, she splashed me again. I told her to stop, but she just laughed, so I started walking away. She flattened her palms on the wet concrete of the ledge and turned her face towards the sky.

  “It’s happened, Talor. I’m in love!”

  I stopped.

  “In love?”

  “It’s why I’m so crazy today. Sorry! His name is Mannix! He’s Irish! He’s in the red shirt over there.”

  I squinted at the group of guys jabbering on the library steps. There wasn’t a single guy wearing a red shirt. An accent found my ear.

  “A couple of sirens splashing in the waves, aren’t ya?”

  I whirled around and stared into the chest of the red shirt known as Mannix. Immediately, I noticed several necklaces of varying materials. There were forms of foreign gods, things you wouldn’t usually see a guy wear.

  He was average looking, really, but with longer hair than most guys. It was a dark brown and messy, covered mostly on top by a slouching ski cap like a typical college musician. My gaze went up to the tattoo on his upper right arm of something like a dragon. A pierced eyebrow jutted out from behind his aviator sunglasses.

  I could see myself in them, but not his eyes behind them. That bothered me. It was a cloudy day. No need for sunglasses. I couldn’t tell what he was looking at, but I hoped it wasn’t my lacy bra under a wet sundress. Azalea came over in a hurry, batting her eyes. She doused him with such furious kisses I had to back away to keep from getting mauled.

  “Well, since you’re busy,” I mumbled, starting to slink off.

  Azalea caught me by the hair while she was still kissing him. I yelped and pushed her hand off. She giggled.

  “Wait. I want us to have lunch together!”

  I forced a smile as I combed my hands through my hair, undoing the tangles she put in them with her erratic behavior. She was being aggressive and weird. I didn’t care to get to known the guy making her act like that. I just wanted to get away.

  “I really can’t. I’m all wet and…”

  As soon as Mannix’s lips twisted, I wanted to retract my comment.

  “Got ya fella to take care of that, darlin’? I know a guy,” he murmured. Azalea laughed heartily.

  “Oh, wow. What a gentleman you have here, Azalea.”

  She rolled her eyes and hooked my arm. Before I knew it, she had leapt into the fountain and pulled me in with her. We immersed in the water like a baptism, and Azalea wrapped her arms around me when I came up. Her curly dark hair cascaded over my wet shoulder. She flung it back, effectively wetting several giddy bystanders. They cheered in response. Mannix reached in his pocket and brought his phone up to record us.

  “How about a song, princess?”

  When the crowd started growing behind Mannix, I tried to find a way to excuse myself quickly.

  “I have class,” I answered coolly, moving to get out.

  Azalea snapped her head around.

  “And I don’t
?”

  “No, I mean class, as in college. Like campus? You know – this place we’re standing in the middle of?”

  Mannix shrugged, pulling out a crinkled hundred-dollar bill from his pocket. Azalea grabbed my arm and gave an excited squeal.

  “A paid gig! What song, maestro?”

  I shook my head.

  “Azalea, the crowd is all yours.”

  Mannix tipped his sunglasses down slightly as he leaned forward my way. I could finally see a little of his eyes. They were a piercing kind of dark.

  “Can’t sing then?”

  “Course I can. How do you just have that kind of money?”

  “What’s that phrase? YOLO?”

  I frowned at him as Azalea sat in the water laughing her head off.

  “Look at my shirt float. Come on, Talor! Your dress is going to look like a ghost when you lie down!”

  I didn’t stop glaring at him as I bent from the knees, not until I was horizontal underwater. The crowd seemed to be enjoying two women backstroking in a fountain. When I stood up, my dress was clinging like spandex. Everyone started clapping, so Azalea took my hand and curtsied. She sent a splash at Mannix, which he dodged.

  “Satisfied now, you pervert?”

  “Not yet.”

  He yanked her out of the water with ease and carried her off around his waist, their lips doing the only navigating as they went. Suddenly, the crowd started clamoring and scattered in a hurry. The dean was coming for us, and in a swift stride, too. I scrambled out of the water, leaving my purse and books on the ground where I left them. I hustled from the scene of the crime to the safety of the oak tree around the front of the Art building.

  Once I was safely behind the tree, I tried to remain quiet in case he had followed me around the corner. When I peeked around the tree and saw no one, I sighed.

  “Talor?”

  I jumped and squawked, slamming my back in the tree. It was Sage. He was trying to hide his amusement.

  “Oh God, Sage! Hi. Um, this isn’t what you think.”

  He leaned lazily to look around the tree. Cocking a brow, he took a step forward and tilted his head.

  “What do I think?”