DRAWN (7 page)

Timothy clears his throat. “Uhh…”

Surely he can’t know.

          Another blast of wind sweeps into the room and my other hand instinctively holds my skirt down. I look like I’m getting bloody ready to curtsy.

          Timothy is still looking.

          Bloody hell.

          He
can’t
know, can he?

Timothy clears his throat again. “You have your, umm, whatchamacallit, don’t you?”

I’m a little confused, but his whatchamacallit is a lot better than the truth so I nod.

He picks up my bag and hands it to me. “My sister has it bad, too. She’s always groaning in pain and stuff.”

          Oh, thank God. He thinks I’ve got my period.

          “Thanks.” I don’t think I’ll never be able to look at him in the eye after this.

          “Anytime.” Timothy’s frowning gaze lingers on my skirt.

          Yup. Never is just about right.

          Outside, I start scanning the sea of faces for Lace, but it’s Yuki I spot halfway across the hallway.

He looks away when our eyes meet.

Whatever. I’ve totally given up trying to figure him out, telling myself it’s not part of my role as Yuki Himura’s “toy” to psychoanalyze him. He’s giving me a safe outlet for my secret sexual frustrations and he’s – albeit unknowingly – helping me create my best manga yet. What else can a girl ask for?

Yuki is just a few steps away now.

I keep my head down.

Maybe he wants to stop the gossipy mouths from linking us. The news about us going out together had hit full force when other students saw Yuki driving me to school this morning. When I asked him what I should say if people start asking questions, he told me anything was okay as long as I a) didn’t fantasize or b) blush while I said whatever I wanted to say.

Since Yuki was scowling throughout his last-minutes warnings, I figured his words were more in line of a threat than a suggestion.

Yuki is just a few inches away now, but I still don’t look up. Maybe---

Oomph!

Yuki has bumped into me deliberately and I stumble in his direction.

Yuki’s arms go around me. “Are you okay,
senpai
?” he asks as our bodies press against each other for a nanosecond.

His hardness, my softness, and the fact that we don’t have anything under our uniforms, robs me of words. All I can do is glare at Yuki, torn between strangling him and locking both of us inside the nearest room so I can shag him. It’s the most exquisite form of torture, and I know it has played exactly the way Yuki wants it.

Yuki releases me, breaking the sexual spell he’s so skillfully weaved around me in such a short time. “My apologies,
senpai
.” His voice is polite and humble but I’m not buying it, not when his baby blues are gleaming wickedly.

Honestly, if he’s surprised that no one’s guessed how sex-mad I am, I’m just as surprised no one’s seen past his angelic exterior and discover this demonic side to him.

I scowl, not trusting myself to speak because I know I’m just going to sound breathless. He may no longer be affected, but I still am. Badly.

“See you around,
senpai
.”

I stab him with one last glare before whirling around to walk the opposite direction.

The sight of Lace stops me dead on my tracks. Her face is perfectly blank, which means she’s already planning how to interrogate me like a bloody Nazi inquisitor and she doesn’t want me to know where she’s coming from. It’s a technique she uses every time she hears that some of her boys went out partying the night before a big game and none of them wants to ‘fess up.

I am so dead.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re just secretly dating because you want to see how things go first?” It’s a little hard to hear Lace since we’re sitting too close to the rafters, the raindrops falling on it sounding a little too much like a shower of bullets.

Lace suddenly jumps to her feet. “Fucking idiot!”

          I jump to my feet, too, aghast. “Lace!”

          She looks at me distractedly. “Not you,
him
.”

          “Yuki’s not---”

          She snorts. “No, I mean
him
.”  She begins wagging a fist at the ginger-haired first year picking himself up from the floor. “We don’t fucking need to fucking play dirty tricks like that. I catch you one more time and you’re on the bench for the entire fucking year. Do you fucking get that?”

          He doesn’t speak, poor guy. He’ll learn soon enough how much Lace likes getting the affirmative.

          Lace looks like she’s about to whirl into the court like a Tasmanian devil bent on sweeping away freshmen vermin. “DID YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?”

          Alvin kicks the rookie in the leg. “Answer, you ass.”

          “Yes, ma’am,” the younger guy shouts, red-faced.

          “Good!” Lace returns to her spot, sitting Indian-style, her skirt long and loose enough to cover every inch of her legs.

          With my bum bare, I wish I can say the same for my skirt.

          “Now,” Lace says, “where were we again?”

          Every time the basketball team has their practice, Lace and I have lunch in the academy’s fifth-floor indoor multisport court. We always take the topmost row of the bleachers, too, since Lace says it gives her a bird’s eye view of what’s happening inside the paint, whatever that means.

Everybody in school knows it’s Lace’s dream to be the first female coach in the NBA, and with her usual tenacity she’s managed to convince Coach Andrews to give her an unofficial role in the team. She started out as a water girl two years ago, but she’s climbed the ranks since then. She’s now the (unofficial) team manager and I’m proud to say that all the guys in the squad listen seriously to her coaching.

          Lace’s usually in her own world when she studies the new plays of the team, but her attention is
partially
focused on me now. Since Lace loves basketball as much as I love
manga
, I’m unhappily flattered.

          She crosses her arms over her chest. “After over a year of ignoring each other’s existence, you and Yuki suddenly discover you like each other. So you choose to secretly date because you don’t want things to be awkward if it doesn’t work out. Did I get things right so far?”

          “Yes.”
Secretly dating
was the best excuse I could come up with at short notice, but anything really is better than the truth. I just can’t imagine confessing to Lace how perverted my thoughts can get.

          “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Lace’s always looked after me ever since we were kids. She says I’m too nice for my own good.

          If she only knew.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Lace.”

          Her still-stoic face is my answer. The less expression you see on her face, the more furious she actually is.

“I promise. It’s all good. We were completely honest about things.”

          “I know I can’t stop you from doing anything,” Lace finally says. “But I just think that you’re getting way over your head with this---” She makes a disgusted sound. “I don’t even know what to call it! It’s like he’s just jerking your chain for the hell of it!”

          “He’s not,” I say, infusing the words with every bit of sincerity I can muster. “I promise.”

          Lace picks up her half-eaten turkey sandwich and takes a bite. Lace’s always told me that she tends to have the best ideas when she’s eating so I wait patiently for her verdict.

          “It’s like in basketball, KC,” Lace begins.

          I groan. “Not another basketball analogy.”

          She ignores my protest and continues, “Everyone has their own little box of space inside the court and you need to be clear about who owns that space so that there are no misunderstandings. You have to defend that space or someone can steal the ball from you.”

          I wish I can tell her that the, err, ball’s not mine to begin with and I don’t really mind if someone steals it from me.

          “Got it?”

          “Got it.”

          Lace nods in approval. “You got to set boundaries,” she adds.

          I clear my throat. “But we’re not in a relationship yet.”

          “It doesn’t matter. Rules are important so that everyone’s clear with what’s going on. Basketball won’t be as much fun if there aren’t any rules to make the game harder and winning all the sweeter, you know.” Lace finishes her sandwich then looks at me. “Boundaries, KC. You’re always safer when there are boundaries.”

          I come to a decision. “Okay. I promise I’ll talk to him about those boundaries. But in return – you’re not going to rake me over the coals again and again after this. You’ll allow us to just…go with the flow and see where things go. Because that’s what we both want. Deal?”

          Lace’s eyebrows meet together in a frown. “Okay…but you better start thinking about those boundaries now.”

          Huh?

          She nods toward the basketball court. I follow her gaze, and see Yuki walking hand in hand with petite and curvaceous Amelia Bartholomew, who everyone says is being groomed to take over as head cheerleader when Debbie Harold graduates next year.

          Then Amelia looks up, her eyes unerringly finding mine. She flips her dark curly hair over her shoulder as she clings more closely to Yuki’s side. Even this far I can see how her – umm –
bosom
is pressing against his arm, all the while looking at me with a wide, I’m-calling-dibs smile.

          Would she be willing to share if I tell her I just need Yuki for my fantasies?

          “Remember what I told you about defending your space,” Lace urges.

          Conscious of Lace’s assessing gaze, I glower at Amelia. I’m hoping I look jealous and not just irritated that she’s forced me to deceive my best friend.

          Beside Amelia, Yuki is coughing, and I know he’s doing his best not to laugh.

          “See what I’m telling you, KC?” Lace growls under her breath. “You need to start thinking about boundaries for every situation. Like in this case, what kind of boundary do you want?”

It’s a question I mull over for the rest of the afternoon and I still don’t have an answer to when the time for our last period arrives. Calculus is the other subject I share with Yuki, and he sits two seats away from me.

          Yuki looks over his shoulder, and our eyes meet. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything, but he just lets his eyes do all the talking, his gaze hot and hungry.

          Again, Yuki succeeds in making me feel torn between murdering and mauling him. He tells me I can’t fantasize, but then he does his best to seduce me with his baby blues?

          He smirks before turning to face the white board with the rest of the class.

          I can’t stop staring at Yuki’s back. I can’t stop thinking about what he’s not wearing. I wonder if he’s thinking of me, too, and I wonder if he’s secretly feeling as frustrated as I am---

          “Miss Chariot?”

          It takes me a few seconds to realize that the whole class is looking at me. Yuki is on his feet, a polite smile on his face, but the scary look in his eyes tells me I’m in trouble.

          Oh, shite.

          I
fantasized.

          “Are you okay with that,
senpai
?” Yuki asks softly.

          I straighten in my seat. “Uhh…”

          The guy on my right, Bryan, rolls his eyes at me. “Sheesh, KC. Where have you been? He’s asking if you want to co-lead the class’ submission to the Math Conference.”

          “It’s just a quick presentation, Katerina,” Our professor, Ms. Chambers, adds. She’s one of my favorites even though she often seems loopy when you’re not talking to her about numbers.

          “Yes, I don’t mind.” I dare not look at Yuki as I speak to Ms. Chambers.

          Ms. Chambers flashes us a relieved smile. “That’s great, Katerina. I know the class will be in good hands with the two of you.” She turns to address the whole class while gesturing to Yuki to take his seat. “Okay, everyone, you can meet up with your partners then and once you have your topics ready, you can come to me and I’ll see if it’s good to go.”

Noise erupts inside the classroom as everyone gets moving.

Knowing that Yuki’s going to bury me six feet under anytime soon, I get ready to escape.

But of course I’m too late.

Yuki has suddenly materialized in front of me. ““Hello,
senpai
,” he says with his usual small smile, but his eyes are glaring at me.