Kiss of Fire (6 page)

I couldn’t bring myself to answer her, only nod numbly as Ryland scanned the crowd for me.

“Well, I will leave you to it then,” she said. “See you tomorrow, Joclyn.”

I didn’t even register Wyn’s departure; I was still staring at Ryland as he searched for me. He glossed over most of the student body, giving them all a chance to notice him and his expensive car. Finally, he found me and began moving in my direction. The second his eyes met mine, my shock melted away, leaving me feeling blissfully numb, my heart calling out in sheer joy to see him. It took a moment, but even that melted away as I registered everyone looking between us, and my joy deteriorated into a half-hearted anger.

He waved at me, and to my horror, Cynthia McFadden waved back, her blonde hair flipping in an obvious attempt at flirting. Ryland moved past her without seeing her, pushing her to the side, and my anger melted away into laughter. He rushed to me then, sweeping me up in his arms and spinning me around as if this was some strange scene from a chick flick.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his actions, the movement sending my stomach into cartwheels. He pressed his cheek against mine as we spun, his deep chuckle echoing in my ear.

“I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?” His warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered to me.

My heart sputtered. “You have no idea.”

“Then, I might as well do the thing thoroughly.” He set me down again and kissed my jaw line. His lips lingered for a second longer than they should have, freezing me into place. I just hoped I didn’t look too much like a deer stuck in the headlights.

If my heart had been having troubles before, it was nothing to how I felt now. I couldn’t move as my head began to swim around me, my legs feeling like Jell-O.

Ryland wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me beside him. My body melded into his as he led me forward, towing the long board behind us. He kissed my temple before placing me in the passenger seat, his lips burning against my skin even after I lost contact.

Ryland walked around the Lotus much slower than he usually did, as if he were giving everyone one last chance to see me in the car and him with me. Most of the football team stood together, staring the car down. Cynthia McFadden stood in the middle of them, her face flushed red with anger, her arms folded across her mid-section. It wasn’t her face that caught my attention, though, it was Wyn’s.

She stood behind the crowd, hiding behind a large conifer tree next to the red brick school. Her mouth moved as if she were talking to someone out of sight. Her face was screwed up with what could only be described as a furious worry. The combination of anger and concern did not sit well with her and only made her look like she was about to catch fire.

I looked toward Ryland as he hopped in, a huge smile on his face. By the time I looked back to Wyn, she had disappeared.

“Let’s get out of here!” Ryland sang, kicking the car away from the curb and speeding down the street well above the speed limit.

---

If it weren’t for the yells of excitement that echoed around the school hall, I might have been punched. I swerved to the side at the noise and saw the angry, little fist whip through the air in front of my face. My quick movement upset my balance, and I tumbled to the ground, my hood falling off my head as I landed hard on my tailbone.

One, little punch and the crowd gathered around me. I saw the eager faces jostle over each other in their attempt to get a better view, many of them yelling “catfight” over and over again. I looked away from them, unsurprised to see Cynthia pacing in front of me, her face screwed up in furious anger.

Seeing her fuming form made me cringe. Hell has no fury like a woman’s scorn. Ryland’s dismissal of her yesterday was going to cost me big.

“So, you thought you could show everyone how popular you are by paying some rich stripper to come pick you up?”

“He’s not a stripper.” The words escaped me without warning. While I should have been surprised that I had chosen to stand up for Ryland before myself, I was more surprised that I had responded to her taunts; I hadn’t done that in years. That fact didn’t escape Cynthia’s notice either; her face lit up in joyous expectation for the coming fight.

“Prostitute, stripper; it’s all the same.” She walked up to me, her high-heeled foot swinging wide in a poor attempt at a kick.

I swung out of the way, sliding against the floor and into the crowd who stood me up and pushed me toward Cynthia. I rammed into her hard, the push from the crowd giving her the perfect opportunity to slam a tiny, angry fist into my stomach. I cringed, but it didn’t hurt much. I had been sucker-punched harder by Ryland when I was eight and we were fighting over Ninja Turtles.

Without any warning, Cynthia began clawing and slapping at my face, the only exposed skin on my entire body. I yelped in a panic and tried to fight back as best I could, but it was no use. She was hell-bent on turning me into her scratching post. I pushed her away from me before her attack could get any worse, the palm of my hand slapping hard against her cheek.

“Leave me alone; at least I have friends who will stand up for me.” It was a lame retort and I knew it, but I couldn’t think beyond the burning in my face.

“Well, he sure isn’t your boyfriend. After all, who could love an ugly, useless, insignificant, little nothing?” She hit me hard in the stomach, and this time, I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me. I heard the crowd around us yell as I fell to my knees, my eyes watering.

Cynthia walked up to me and lowered herself down to whisper in my ear with her bottom stuck out precariously, causing several of the boys to whistle. “Your own father didn’t love you, why would anyone else?”

My blood boiled under my skin. The truth of her words dug into me and fueled the intense pain and anger I always kept hidden. I could feel the necklace grow warm against my skin, the warmth fueling my intensity. Without thinking, I slammed my hand into her stomach in a pointless attempt to hurt her, to get her away from me, to humiliate her somehow. Instead of her scuttling across the floor on her ridiculous heels like I had hoped, she flew ten feet straight into the air. Her back slammed against the ceiling tiles before she fell like a rock to the ground.

The crowd went quiet.

I stared in horror at Cynthia’s motionless form. My heart thumped wildly as I desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened. I didn’t know what had happened, but I did know I needed to get out of there.

I didn’t even bother to meet any of the curious stares that were trained on me, and I didn’t stop to check if Cynthia was all right. I just grabbed my bag, shoved the few things that had been scattered around the hall back into it and took off.

I held the bag against me as I power-walked away, my head down in my normal attempt to blend in. I hadn’t lost control like that in a long time. Okay, I hadn’t lost control like that ever. Throwing someone ten feet in the air? That didn’t just happen, right? I had heard of women lifting cars off injured people and defending themselves in times of danger; it didn’t seem likely, but that must have been what had just happened to me.

I could feel the angry warmth leech out of me as I walked; my skin, less persistent in its attempt to crawl away. The necklace that always seemed to echo my moods so perfectly faded from a white, angry heat into a warm, calming sensation.

I turned into the hall that housed my locker, unsurprised to see Wyn leaning against the locker next to mine, her eyebrows about as far up as they could get. Had news of my superhuman feat spread that fast? I just ignored her and caught my breath; I had no intention of discussing what had just happened.

“Tall, dark and handsome, eh?” Obviously, she hadn’t heard yet.

“Don’t start, Wyn,” I snapped.

“Who is he? Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?” she spouted out her questions, but even I, the new friend, could tell she was restraining herself; she was dying to ask a million more.

“His name is Ryland and he is my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

“Didn’t look like a
not
boyfriend to me,” she said cryptically.

“He was trying to piss off Cynthia, just like you did.” I snapped my locker door shut.

“Oooo, a kindred spirit.” Wyn smiled as she fell into step beside me. “I like him more and more.”

“Not my boyfriend,” I reminded her.

“Yet,” she said pointedly. “See you at lunch!” She waved at me before running down the math hallway, leaving me to walk alone to English.

I slid into my seat just as the bell rang, my heavy book slamming into the old wooden desk. Mr. Heart hadn’t arrived yet, so I smoothed my hair and wiped my palm against my face to check for blood.

Even before Cynthia’s little catfight, I had been the recipient of taunts and insults all morning; all ranging from asking how much he cost to wondering how I did it. I didn’t give anyone answers and had kept my hood up more than usual. My carefully crafted “disappear into the walls” routine had been broken wide open. I sighed and slammed my head onto the desk as Mr. Heart walked in, silencing the class immediately.

Mr. Heart got right to business, one of the few teachers to take the end of the school year seriously. A little more than half the class were seniors, and so, their minds had already moved to graduation, but a few others of us—myself included—had a whole other year of high school education in front of us. I pulled out my notebook and began to take notes in preparation for the final exam in two weeks.

“Pssst.”

I heard the noise, and I could already tell whoever had made it was trying to get my attention.

“Pssst.”

Still going to ignore you.

“Pssst, Joclyn.”

Great, now they want to get me in trouble.

“Joclyn.”

I looked up to the whispered voice. One of the seniors on the football team had turned all the way around from two rows away to face me.

“You and that LaRue kid, eh? I always knew you was a gold digger.” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I brushed my frustration aside and stuck my tongue out at him like a child.

“I bet he likes that, too, doesn’t he? You dirty little minx.” He licked his lips hungrily, and I ducked my head.

This is why I hadn’t wanted Ryland to come and pick me up; I knew this would happen. I chewed on my tongue for a minute before returning to take notes.

That’s when I saw him.

An unbelievably tall, lanky man stood with his back against the wall, not far from my desk. He stood tall, with long arms folded across his chest. A thick curtain of stark, straight blonde hair hung to his shoulders, framing his narrow face. His features were sharp and defined, but they suited him rather than making him look like a villain.

If I hadn’t been so taken back by his piercing gaze, or even dared to get another look, I might have said he was handsome. However, he was staring at me. I had glanced at him before looking away, a blush rushing to my cheeks at the sight of his deep-blue gaze boring into me.

I wondered why no one else noticed him; he was so foreboding and his stare so piercing. I couldn’t be the only one who felt uncomfortable with him being there. Then again, I was the only one that he was staring at.

I fidgeted before trying again to focus, but it was no use. I looked straight forward, note-taking forgotten, trying not to continue to steal uncomfortable glances toward the figure who leaned toward me. I dropped my head, letting my long, black hair fall between us to take away the temptation to look back.

The minutes on the clock ticked by at a snail’s pace, my whole body aware of the continued stare I was getting. My skin prickled with an uncomfortable energy that kept my nerves on high alert. I kept shifting my weight to see if he was still there, a chill going up my spine every time I caught a glimpse of his unmoving figure or ripped designer jeans in my peripheral vision.

I ran out of the room when the bell rang, desperate to get away from the penetrating stare, as well as from any new taunts from the football team. My next class was empty of tall, blonde men and open catcalls, giving me time to focus on the material and catch up on what I had missed last week. When the bell rang, I ran from that classroom, too, my nerves still on high alert from blonde men, and angry girls.

The news of my fight had now traveled through the school. As I made my way to the cafeteria, I was treated to the open catcalls as well as looks that ranged from curious to terrified. I can’t say I blamed them; I was scared of myself.

I pulled my hood up over my head and attempted to disappear behind the long overhang of fabric. I let the catcalls wash over me and focused on the feet of the students around me. I walked down a tunnel of shame; everyone turning to look, everyone saying something. What I wouldn’t give to have said something back, but the fear of a repeat performance plagued me. My progress was stopped by two large, worn, dress shoes.

“Hood down, Ms. Despain.”

I pulled down my hood and looked up to the old, withered face of Mr. Ray, our Assistant Principal.

“I hear you had an altercation earlier today. Do I need to remind you what our policy is, about fighting?”

I swallowed slowly and shook my head, waiting for the yelling or suspension or whatever usually came with these things. It did seem a little odd that we were doing this in the hall, however.