Spark (2 page)

“Ugh, it smells
wicked horrible.” I walk in the apartment and head right for the windows that overlook the street. I can still feel the ash embedded in my hair. “I’m getting in the shower, Riss,” I call as she plops to the couch.

“
Your Boston’s showing,” she teases. Although we weren’t originally from Boston, part of the language was starting to rub off on me. “I’ll make breakfast,” she calls back. By breakfast, she means oatmeal and toast because that’s all she can make. I even put a sticker on the microwave, so she remembers where to press. Otherwise, she burns her oatmeal.
Every single time.

“None for me, please,” I call out. I shut my bedroom door and disrobe. I
wasn’t in the mood to eat. My stomach hasn’t stopped turning since the moment I was scooped off my bed.
That bed.
I turn to look at it and see that the covers are half off. It feels weird that Eric knows what the inside of my bedroom looks like. He probably didn’t notice, but still.

The shower feels absolutely amazing. The cold water hits my face washing all the dirt and ash off of me. I rinse my hair, washing it twi
ce to make sure the smell is gone. I scrub my face getting the ash out of my pores. I stay an extra ten minutes just letting the water run off me.

Finally, I g
et out and grab a towel.
Oh crap, wouldn’t you know—no towel.
That was the downside to working on laundry day.

I peek
out my bedroom door and call out to Carissa, “Riss! Can you bring me a towel?” I’m shivering from the windows being left open blowing air right over my bare skin. “Riss!”

Ugh, she’s not answering
. I peek out and see she’s nowhere to be found.
Oh, what the heck.
I tiptoe down the hall and across the living room. Our rooms are on opposite sides of the apartment, which benefits me greatly when she brings guy friends over. We had our own bathrooms as well, leaving little to argue about.

“W
here the heck are you…son of a—” I quickly cover my parts with my freezing cold hands as I hear him laugh. “Turn around!” I demand. He continues laughing as the blood drains from my face completely. My face is pale, and I could die right now.
Literally die.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb ya
there.” The southern tone comes from his sweet lips.
Eric.
He blinks several times before finally covering his eyes. Oh holy balls, he just saw me naked.
Butt naked. And wet.

I dart my
naked butt to Carissa’s bathroom and grab the closest towel.
Scooby Doo? Really, Riss?
She looks all female and sex appeal, but deep down she was still so much a child.

I wrap myself up in Scooby and grab a
smaller one for my hair. I come back out, blushing now. I’m embarrassed I acted like that, but mostly I’m embarrassed because he just saw everything and more.
So. Much. More.

I tiptoe back out to the living room. Him and Carissa are casually sitting on the couch a part from each other. Carissa was good at getting what she wanted. She never had a problem getting a man’s attention, but the way Eric was ignoring her and only pretending to be interested in what she was saying was humorous and honestly, priceless. I c
an tell his lack of interest is annoying her, and so she stands and huffs off.

“He’s all yours,” she whisper
s in my ear as she heads back to her room. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I don’t bother to think about it as I’m standing in the middle of the apartment in only a towel.

“I’m, um, going to go get dressed now. Is there something y
ou needed?” I ask, hoping he gets the message to leave.

“
Just wanted to make sure y’all were adjusting well.” The squeak in his voice tells me otherwise.

“We’re fine. Really, you don’t have to keep checking up on us. I don’t think the taxpayers are paying for that.” I cross my arms, keeping the towel in place.

He laughs at my dry humor. “No worries. It’s on the house,” he plays back, showing off all his perfect teeth again. “And we’re neighbors, so really, I’m just being neighborly.”

“I’ve never seen you around before.” I sound accusing more than I mean to.

“That’s because I just moved in.”

“Where are you from?” I ask, realizing he’s keeping me around longer than I intended.

“Canada,” he answers bluntly as he notices my confused expression and begins laughing. “Texas, actually.”
Figures.
Southern. Hot. And a Texan.

“Well, I appreciate the southern hospitality, or whatever it is you’re doing, but up here it really isn’t neces
sary.” I don’t know what I mean by that, but I just want a reason to make him leave. The way my bare skin reacted to his voice makes me cringe inside. His emerald eyes pierce through mine so far that I feel it all the way down to my toes. His smile is genuine, and his voice charming.

“Perhaps I’ll see y’all around then.” He nods and lowers his head. He stands up and starts walking past me when I reluctantly grab him by the arm.

“Hold on.” He turns back around and faces me. I get a whiff of his husky scent and instead of making my eyes water like the smell of cologne typically does, it makes me smile. His smell is so addicting it invades my ability to speak or move.

“Yes?” he asks after I stand there saying nothing.

“Thank you again,” I say, eventually spitting the words out. “I mean it. You really did a sweet thing coming to help.” I realize my hand is still touching his arm, but I can’t find the strength to move it. He smiles, so sweet and natural that I’m lost in it.

He takes my hand in his and moves it to his mouth. “It was my pleasure, Velaney.” He lays a soft kiss on the back of my hand and looks intently at my
eyes again. We share a moment
—
or two before he moves. “If you need anything, you know where I am.” He walks out leaving me completely breathless and confused.
If I need anything? Like what?
Perhaps an oxygen mask from constantly holding my breath around him…

***

Oh, frack, my body aches like a son-of-a-bizznatch.
I really need to work on my lack of synonyms.
Not only did I grow up with a father who screened my teeth every chance he had, but my mother is a pastor. That’s right.
A pastor’s daughter right here.
My parents were constantly finding replaceable swear words with others—usually ridiculous ones. Bizznatch, fudge, tartar sauce, and holy biscuit were the common ones I heard over my childhood years. As much as my mother didn’t approve of any kind of swearing, she gave in to replaceable words. However, between my father and older brother, Aiden, there were slip-ups.

I wasn’t completely against swearing. Hell, shit, and damn were usually the ones my mother allowed to slip. She’d say Hell was a place
, not a swear word, damn was something beaver’s made, and shit was something all mammals do naturally. Why she had exceptions for those were beyond me…

I ran every day this week. I pushed myself harder and harder each day letting out the sexual frustration that had secretly built up. As Carissa called it, my
pussy fairy
needed to twirl her magic wand and give me a big O or I’d run to the point of no longer feeling my insides.

I picked running.

I was fine with not having a man in my life. I had one relationship out of high school three years ago and so, yeah it may have been some time since the
pussy fairy
has spread her love, but running was my outlet. My sexual tension releaser—what I would tell Carissa anyway.

I stop to catch my breath
, and lean my sweaty hands on my knees. I bend over, close my eyes, and focus on catching my breath. Just one more mile. I can do this. I ran out of water a mile ago and was now running off pure rage. Rage I’ve been holding in since I was a little girl. Rage that my family has put me in…

Looking up, I
see the sun rising—yellow and orange fluorescents pierce in between the city buildings.

I swing my arms around, crack my neck, and slam my feet to the pavement. Rage and anger are what feed my runs every single day. A childhood filled with regret and pure hatred
is the focus of it all. What sounds like the perfect childhood—dentist father, pastor preaching mother, was anything but.

Oh god, I made it.
Oh, sweet, baby cheese balls—as my mother would say—I’m home. Desperate for air and water, I sprint to the elevator. I slam my body against the back of the elevator, except it’s not the wall I’m used to hitting my hands on.

I look up and see Eric. Shirtless. Sweaty. He smiles down at me
, and my hands that are supposed to be smacking the wall are pressed up against his hard, sweaty chest. Oh hells bells, he has a nipple ring. And tattoos.
Good Lord, I’m doomed.

“I’m so sorry! Gee
z. I’m sorry, Eric. Did I hurt you?”
What a ridiculous question.

“Of course not. I should be asking you that.” He laughs
, well aware of how hard his chest is. His chest hairs are covered in sweat, but surprisingly it smells sweet. I’ve never had the urge to lick someone’s sweat off before, but he gives that thought a whole new meaning.

“Ca
n I sue for wrist damage?” I tease back. Of course, it was my fault for running into him, but my wrist really did hurt.

“Can we settle out of court
, at least? I can’t have felonies on my record.” He smirks, and I swear I feel my heart beating out of my chest. Holy shizzwizzle, his body is wicked hot.

Insanely hot.

“I suppose I could. What are you offering?” I ask,
crossing my arms, seeing if he plays along.

“I
would settle for dinner.” He smiles again and leans back on the railing.

“Dinner? You’re a cheap
—” Nope, I can’t say it. No matter how much I want to, I can’t get it out.

“Ass? Were you just about to call me a cheap ass?” he asks, pretending to sound offended. I laugh, embarrassed that he even noticed.

“Yeah, but I failed miserably.” He continues laughing as I feel my cheeks heat. “I’m not some childish good girl, I promise. It’s just that every time I swear, or attempt to that is, I see my mother’s sneering face in my head.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t swear.” I wave him off, not wanting to have that conversation. “Working out?” I ask, changing the subject. There’s more to the swearing thing than I ever plan to explain. Damn and hell were the only ones that I allow to slip out, especially because they weren’t held against my will…like the F bomb.

“Yeah, I run to the gym and back. Cardio and such,” he explains.
He leans back against the wall, crossing his arms. “So, you can’t swear, huh? Did a bad ole witch put a spell on you or something?” He chuckles as if this is absolutely hilarious.

Bad ole witch?
Yeah, that’s a good name for my mother.

“Something like that,” I sneer back.
“Wait, there’s no gym in this neighborhood,” I mention, changing the subject once again.

“I know. I run to the one by the university.”

“That’s like ten miles!” I gasp.
There and back.

He laughs. “Yeah. It’s nothing.” He shrugs as if he’s too macho to complain. “You should come with me some day. I’ve
seen you out running all week.” My insides heat at the fact that he’s noticed. My legs weaken, and I grab the railing behind me to keep myself up.

“I don’t know,” I vaguely respond. The elevator dings at the fourth floor.

“See ya ‘round, Velaney.” He walks out and turns around to face me. The doors close on his smile, leaving me completely breathless,
again.

I stumble back to my apartment,
entirely taken back. I’ve encountered men before, and even dated one guy, but Eric was affecting me differently than anyone ever has. Perhaps it was because he saved me from smoke inhalation, or the fact that he saw me half naked, but I couldn’t let it get to me. I wouldn’t. Men were just after one thing, and that one thing was on strike.
For now.

I grab my towel and head right for the shower. I have images of Eric in my head the entire time. His body. Covered in sweat. Sweet smelling sweat. His dark hair brushed back, his piercing emerald eyes.
Oh god, get out of my head. Out!

I finish my shower in record time. I need to focus on something else. Anything else. Work.
I only work weekends when Coach asks me to. I try not to make it a habit, but most weekends I didn’t have anything else to do anyway.

I
dress, eat, and head out to my car.
The Ladybug
as Carissa calls it. I bought my red Volkswagen Beetle as a college graduation present to myself last year. I studied sports medicine at Boston University, and after graduation, I was offered a job at the university to work with the hockey team.