Demon at My Door (6 page)

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 friendship 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.” 

The blood drains from my face. This is a good reminder on why I hate Taylor Gee. She needs to mind her own damn business. Did he expose my secret about Stew to her? “Is that so? What did you tell her?”

He holds up his hands defensively. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even tell her that the staring is, well, a mutual thing.”

I laugh nervously. “There’s nothing going on between Stew and me.” 

I’ll be damned if I get roped into spilling my guts, only to be laughed at later if this whole friendship thing doesn’t work out.

I hop into Rick’s car, and he props his arm on the roof and leans in. “I’m glad to hear that because I think it’s lame when a guy pursues another guy’s girl, plus Stewart Masterson doesn’t seem too trustworthy. There’s just something about him I don’t like.” He shuts the door and I can’t figure out how to respond as he saunters around the car to his side. Of course he doesn’t like Stew. It’s only logical to talk crap about your competition.

I wish Stew would let everyone know there’s something between us because then I wouldn’t have to sit here and figure out a way to tell Rick I am taken. I wouldn’t have to lie because everyone would know. Rick definitely likes me, and I’m not ready to jump into something new yet. A big part of me still holds a candle for Stew and maybe using Rick as arm candy will bring Stew to admit to everyone we’re together. 

I may just end up with a social life before I die, and I don’t care what the junior demon thinks about it. 

Chapter Seven

It’s my turn to clean up the supplies today since Stew and I figured out a schedule so we wouldn’t have to talk as much. Stew bolts from his seat. I stare after him and waves of anger rolls through me. He still hasn’t called me, and I get that we’re over, but it wouldn’t kill him to at least be civil to me. 

I glance down at my phone after packing up my stuff.  Great. I’m late for my next class. Figures. 

The hallway is deserted like a ghost town. I debate on just skipping my Statistics class. Monkey Man Miller, as most of the campus calls him, hates when people come in late to his class. He loves to make a big embarrassing show of it. 

Just as I round the corner, the janitors’ closet door flies open, and a hand reaches out and places a firm grip on my arm.  

“What the hell?” I screech when I see the hand belongs to Stewart. 

He pulls me into the claustrophobic closet and closes the door. It’s pitch black in here and smells faintly of mildew and ammonia. I run my hand along the wall and search for a light switch, but no surprise, the closet’s too small to have a light. Stewart’s fingers still cling to my arm and he’s close enough that I feel his breath on my lips.

What is he thinking? “This isn’t exactly public, Stew.”

He doesn’t say a word, only pulls me tight against his body. His chest heaves against mine. “Kiss me,” he whispers.

My knees buckle below me, and I sway a little. My stomach flips, doing its own little happy dance. After a few days of the silent treatment, I wasn’t sure how he felt about me, but I can hear the desperation in his plea for a kiss and I know he still needs me.

God, he makes me crazy. Why can’t we just be together?

“Please, Nat.” His lips practically touch mine. “I love you.”

My arms turn to Jell-O at the sound of those three little words. My bag falls from my hand and onto the floor. Instinctively, my arms wrap around his neck. We fall back into our summer lovin’ pattern, and the last few hellish days without him melt away. He hugs me tightly as his lips meet mine, gentle at first, then a little deeper. It feels like ages since he’s held me, and it’s been torture. I’ve missed everything about him. The hungry way his rough hands caresses my skin tells me he’s missed me, too. 

He pulls back slightly and nestles his forehead against mine. “I don’t want you seeing that guy.”

My mind is blank. “What guy?”

“The guy I’ve seen you hanging out with lately. Seriously, Nat, he’s weird, and I don’t trust him.”

Ah. Warm, gooey feelings flow through me. He’s jealous. “Funny. He said the same thing about you.” I knew hanging out with Rick would bring Stew to admit he cares, but he’s going to have to work to get back my trust. I can’t let him pull me into a closet and still keep me his secret. I sigh. “Rick’s just a friend.”

“Doesn’t look that way. You’re
my girl
, remember?”

“Well, at least Rick talks to me in public,” I snap, and hope he sees my side of things. “You want me to stop seeing other guys, make us official.”

His shoulders tense under my hands. “Please, Nat. Don’t start.”

“
Don’t start
?” I drop my arms from around his neck, and start to fold them, but he grabs my hands. I try to pull them free from his grasp, which only causes him to hang on tighter. “Are you saying you still expect me to be your secret girlfriend?”

He wraps my arms back around his neck again and squeezes me tight his body. “Come on. We can work this out. Meet me at the tree house tonight. I can’t stand fighting with you anymore.”

“You want to see me, ask me out—on a real date.”

After a couple seconds of silence, I shove him away. Great. How big of a loser am I to think for one millisecond things are different. The only thing that’s changed around here is my budding new friendship with Rick. 

I snatch my bag from the floor. “I’m out of here.”

He grabs my hand. “Alright. Friday night, meet me at My Frat’s party. We’ll make it a point to be seen very publicly together.”

Finally, he’s come to his senses. Thank God we’re in the dark, because I know I’m wearing the silliest smile known to mankind. “Okay, then…Friday. I’ll meet you there. What about your dad?”

“I’ll tell him Friday. He’ll just have to deal with the fact that you’re my girlfriend.”

“Good. It’ll be fine, Stew. You’ll see. Everything will be perfect.”

“Great. I can’t wait to show you off.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

He kisses me one more time, and I wish I can stay in this dark heaven with him forever, but I can’t. “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay,” he says, but still has holds me tight against him. “Don’t bring your friend with you either or else I just might have to kick his ass. I want you all to myself on Friday.” 

I pull myself away and open the door. The light streams in and reveals Stew’s beautiful profile and mussed brown hair. He runs his hand through it and smiles at me. How can one guy be so perfect? I give him a crooked smile. Does he know how happy he just made me?

“See you Friday,” I whisper, give him another quick peck, and then step into the bright hallway.

I practically dance all the way to Mr. Miller’s Statistics class—my entire body weightless and carefree. Stew loves me and we will make this happen. 

Hopefully, everyone will fall in line behind Stew in their acceptance of me. If not, we’ll be fine together, creating our own little world filled with the blissfulness of our love.

Damn, I sound like a fucking hippie. I guess that’s the way people in love think.

Rick will totally understand if I ask him not to hang around so much and stop sharing my place under the tree when I’m there. I mean, it was my spot first, right? Plus, I’m pretty sure Rick has a thing for me and Stew obviously can sense it, too. 

Why am I even worrying? I probably won’t even have to ask Rick to move. He’ll more than likely avoid me anyway once it’s blasted across the entire campus that Stewart Masterson, Capital University’s new quarterback, is dating a gothic freak like me after the party. I feel bad because I did kind of lead Rick on a little. 

My gut clenches at that last thought. That makes me a terrible person, and I’ll owe him a fat apology soon. 

But, I can’t worry about that now. I just hope Rick understands. 

One more day, that’s all I’ll have to wait. Stew’s Frat always has the biggest post-football game parties off campus, and everyone is there, like practically everyone from campus that’s into the whole party/Greek scene. 

Soon, Stew will officially—and very publicly—be mine.

Even though I’m ridiculously late, I saunter into Mr. Miller’s class that’s already in progress. 

Monkey Man’s pinstriped tie swings as he turns from the math problem he just wrote on the over head monitor board. His dark eyes bore into me as he adjusts his black, plastic glasses. He checks his watch and I slide into my seat, praying he’ll let me slide. “Care to enlighten the class with why you are late?”

 Here we go. No doubt he’ll kick me out of his class. “Nope.”

He scowls while his boney fingers rest on his hips. After shaking his head, he pushes a loose strand from his comb-over hair style back into place. “I insist you explain why you’re late to your fellow classmates and have wasted their valuable educational time. So, let’s try this again, care to tell us why you’re late?”

A grin spreads across my face as I think about the real answer to that question. I bite my lip and try to hide my smile. “Not really.”

Monkey Man thinks I’m being a smartass. His face twists with anger. “Leave my class. Now.”

I grab my stuff and start toward the exit. 

In the hallway, I feel a nudge against my shoulder.

“Hey,” Ricks says as he walks beside me.

I give him a faint smile a little weirded out by his sudden appearance. I didn’t expect to see him so soon. 

My hands tremble a little at the thought of hurting his feelings. “Hey.”

“You feel like hanging out again later?”

Stew’s request to not hang around Rick flashes in my mind. “Um, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

He frowns. “Why not?”

I sigh. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to throw it out there. “I don’t think we should hang out anymore.”

Rick places his hand on my arm, and it causes me to stop dead in my tracks. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head. “No, no.” I place my hand on his arm and look him in the eye. “You didn’t do anything. It’s me.”

“Stewart got to you, didn’t he? Told you to stay away from me?” I flinch at the mention of Stew’s name. When I don’t answer, he shrugs away from my touch. “Spare me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. I’m smarter than that.”

Is it that obvious I’m doing this because Stew told me to? My eyes shift from his face, the hurt in his eyes stings my core. “Rick, come on. Don’t be like that. You’re great.”

“But, not great enough.” he says as he backs away. “No problem. I get it. I’m not Stewart Masterson.”

“Rick.” I call as he turns his back to me. “Rick?” I try again.

Damn it. There goes my only friend. I thought he’d understand. For a second I think about running after him. I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t want to jeopardize my relationship with Stew, either. Thank God Stewart finally came around or else I’d be totally alone…again. 

Chapter Eight

I finish the last coat of my Midnight mascara and take a deep breath. This is it. Tonight, Stew and I go public, which is why I decided to glam up a bit and steal some of my older sister’s preppy clothes. 

“Is that my Gucci shirt?” my sister, Alicia, asks as she passes by our joint bathroom.

“Yeah.” I grimace. Busted. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

Alicia shrugs. “No biggie. I’m just glad you’re wearing something other than that black emo crap.”

I’ll miss her so much when she moves to Texas to finish up her graduate degree in a few days. Texas A&M is lucky to have her. She could’ve went anywhere with her genius level G.R.E. scores, but she chose to go to a state school, where she got a full ride. I think more than anything, she wants to prove to Mom that she can do things on her own. Alicia is not Dad’s number one fan. I hear her tell Mom all the time she should be independent and break away from Dad and his money if she’s unhappy, but Mom likes to insist everything is fine. Like the whole town doesn’t know what Dad’s out doing when he’s not home.