Playing Hooky

Footsteps sounded down the hall. Riley was up, no doubt getting ready for another busy day at the office. I looked over at the clock on the bedside table. Eight fifteen. About the time I should have been leaving for school. The alarm had gone off at seven just like every other morning. I’d groaned and rolled over, bashing it to within an inch of it’s electronic life, just like every other morning. But then, most unlike every other morning, my first coherent thoughts had not been of making sure I had some coffee and water with my sugar, but instead of Aidan and the threatening words he’d said to me yesterday. So very full of promise and intent. Intent to do me both physical and psychological harm.
“Serena’s pranks will look like child’s play compared to what I can do.”
I shivered at the thought all over again. I’d been unable to think of anything else, my overactive imagination running away with all sorts of gruesome things he could be planning. I was already trying to come up with counter plans. Like hold your breath when someone dunks your head into the toilet, or aim for a*s first instead of head first if chucked down the stairs. More cushion to break the fall, not to mention less vital organs. Not that I thought he’d go for something so obvious and predictable. No, I was sure Aidan would be after something more creative. He was malicious like that. I’d need eyes in the back of my head to escape his unwarranted wrath.
I heard the shower start up, and for a couple of minutes just listened to the muffled spray of water as it hit the shower floor. Hopefully my brother would leave without noticing I was still in the house. I wasn’t up to explaining exactly why I wasn‘t going. Nothing good could come after the words, “Hey Ry, yeah I’m taking the rest of the week off because my ex boyfriend-turned-stalker is out for misplaced revenge on my a*s and I’m a teeny bit afraid that he’s going to do me serious bodily harm.”
Riley would be down at the school in a heartbeat, demanding to see said ex boyfriend so he could beat the crap out of him. A successful businessman my brother might be, but he could still give a good a*s whooping when it was required. And as much as I thought Aidan deserved a tremendous a*s whooping, I didn’t want to be partially responsible for Riley going to prison. No, better to just handle this one on my own, roll with the punches and all. I’d do exactly the same thing I’d done with Serena. Take the high road and ignore him. Eventually he’d get bored and leave me alone. Or concentrate on getting a reaction out of Tyson instead, something that could produce interesting results. I had no doubt that Tyson wouldn’t just lay down and take it. He’d come back swinging, full force. Something told me Aidan wouldn’t stand a chance if that happened. Which begged the question: How in the hell did Aidan think he was going to get to Tyson?
I lay quietly for the next half hour, listening to the sounds of Riley’s morning routine. Every morning after his shower, he went downstairs to have a coffee and check his emails, then at precisely ten to nine - I glanced at the clock when I heard the front door shut and smiled. Right on time. At ten to nine, he leaves the house and sets off for work. I listened for the sound of his SUV‘s engine rumbling to life, but nothing happened. I frowned as the door opened again and I heard Riley’s footsteps on the stairs a second later. That wasn’t part of the morning routine. I shrugged mentally. Maybe he’d forgotten something.
Or not. The door to my bedroom swung open and my brother filled the doorframe, an amused smile playing about his lips.
“If you’re going to play hooky, you might want to park your truck down the road. Or at least in the garage. That way it won’t be blocking my car in when I need to leave for work.”
Damn, he definitely had a good point. I hadn’t even thought about my hard-to-miss truck taking up the majority of our driveway. You’d have to be blind not to notice it. I sighed, cursing my stupidity.
“I’m not playing hooky, I’m sick,” I said, my voice coming out crystal clear, no hint of a cough or the sniffles in sight.
Which was something Riley noticed as well. “Gee, that’s definitely the voice of the sick right there,” he said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. It dipped under his weight, causing me to roll into him. The scent of his Calvin Klein aftershave wafted all around me, the familiar smell one I always associated with him. “You sound like your close to death,” he finished dryly, placing his hand on my forehead. I willed it to rise from its perfect temperature. Maybe if I strained hard enough, it would. No such luck. Riley brushed my hair back from my face and looked at me for a long time.
“Why aren’t you going to school?”
I shrugged, feeling like a little child getting scalded by a parent. “Just don’t feel like it,” I said, curling myself around him and putting on a pout. Yes, I was totally playing the feel-sorry-for-your-baby-sister card. I was that desperate to get out of going to school.
“Did something happen?” he persisted, concern radiating from him.
I looked up into his eyes, which were a mirror image of my own, the swirl of brown and green so captivating, and almost told him the real reason. The words were on the tip of my tongue before I pulled them back. Riley had enough to deal with without my petty little problems. I wouldn’t add to the pile. I’d take care of Aidan on my own.
“No, nothing happened. I just don’t want to go. I’ll go back on Monday.”
His eyebrow quirked at that. I don’t think I’d ever taken more than one day off school at a time in my entire life. Heck, I could probably add the entire number up and it wouldn’t reach double digits. Until now.
“It really is nothing,” I assured him, cutting off his protest. “I just need a couple of days to myself.”
He stared at me for a long moment, trying to figure out what I wasn‘t telling him. Finally, he sighed, a sound of resignation.
“Okay. But don’t think you’re just going to laze around and do nothing all day.”
I gaped at him. “You’re going to make a sick person do house work?” That was what the cleaning lady who came once a month was for. Hell, I didn’t even know where she put the vacuum cleaner after she used it. Despite Riley’s reservations about spending our millions willy-nilly, the one thing he had splurged on was making sure a professional kept the house tidy and in working order. Left to our own devices, I think we’d end up with a house dirtier than it was when we’d started.
Riley laughed, rising from the bed. “You’re not sick. And no, I like the house too much to set you loose on it with a broom and mop. But get dressed. If you’re not going to school then you can come in to work with me.”
I groaned in protest, yanking the covers over my head.
Riley’s chuckle came from somewhere near the door. “We’re leaving in ten. So if you want a shower, you’d better hurry up.”
I threw off the covers and mock glared at him. “Are you implying I stink?”
He smiled, consulting his watch. “Oh, look at that. You just wasted ten seconds on that question.”
I flung myself out of bed and sprinted into the bathroom.

“Hey, Mel,” I said forty five minutes later, walking into her office and plunking down on the pale pink couch lining one of her office walls. I looked up at the wall opposite me, admiring her various certificates and degrees. Her Masters Degree in Business and Economics sat proudly in the centre, on its right, a Masters Degree in Accounting and Finance. Both from the prestigious school of Harvard University. At thirty three years old, she was considered something of a legend in the work place, having held the position of Chief Financial Officer for five years running. A woman unrivalled in her skills, Mel was a big part of why the company was so successful. Riley swears that she‘s the best thing to happen to us. Of course, the Board of Directors had made a lot of noise about hiring such a young person. Mel had only been out of school a couple of years, and before coming to Azalea had worked as the Chief Accounting Officer - who works under the CFO - at a small company. They were adamant that the position should go to someone with at least ten years experience, but my parents had overridden the decision and hired her. Of course they’d died not long after, and Riley had had to fight for months to keep her as CFO rather than have her demoted to CAO. Lincoln Barrett, the current CAO was originally brought in to take over Mel’s role, and in the end had settled for his job now. They worked together on a lot of projects, sharing the workload for the most part. There was no denying that Lincoln was excellent at his job, but he just didn’t have Mel’s instincts. That woman was always one step ahead of the game, and had contingency plans in place for any mishap imaginable.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said, without looking up from a file she was reading. Clad in a navy blue dress suit, the colour complimented her caramel coloured skin nicely. A pair of half rimmed reading glasses were slipping down her nose, which she shoved back into place. Her thick black hair was pulled into a tight chignon at the base of her neck, with a few wisps framing her face.
“No school today?” She licked her index finger and turned the page.
“Oh, there’s school. I’m just not attending.” I pulled my legs up under me, hugging my knees to my chest.
“You’re not sick.” It was a statement, not a question.
I shook my head, and though she wasn’t looking at me, I knew she caught the movement. Nothing escaped Mel’s attention.
“Then why the ditch day?” She flipped another page, taking a sip from her coffee.
I shrugged. “I just needed a break.”
She nodded, and without pausing in her reading picked up another file. She tossed it at me, and I barely caught it before the pages slipped out. “Good, then you can read this. Let me know if the budgets for the upcoming branches in Tianjin and Shanghai coincide with what they’ve actually spent on materials so far.”
I raised my eyebrows, immediately curious. If she was giving me work to do, they were obviously stretched pretty thin. Though with two new companies being set up in China and contemplation of yet another one being considered for England, it was no wonder the workload had increased. I flipped the file open, immediately overwhelmed by numbers and percentages and justifications for expenditure on various items. This was going to take some time to sort out. Whoever had written up the report had been lazy and just thrown it all together in no particular order.
I opened my mouth to ask for a pen and a highlighter, but before I could get the words out Mel chucked me a pencil case.
I smiled. Always one step ahead. “Thanks.”

We sat in companionable silence for the next two hours, each reading our files. Mine was pretty boring for the most part, but important nonetheless. I’d ended up having to rewrite the majority of the report onto some scrap paper, in an attempt to make more sense of it.
Mel had managed to get through a whole pile of folders before I‘d finished my one. I highlighted the final parts of the report that I thought needed to be investigated more thoroughly and then closed the folder.
Mel had her elbows on her desk, sipping her now iced coffee, gazing into space.
“So,” she said, sliding her brown eyes my way. She put her coffee down to give me her undivided attention. “Why did you skip school? Not that I don’t love your company, or your help, but you’re not the type to shirk school.”
Something she knew all too well. In the years since my parents had passed away, I’d started confiding in Mel, so much so that now there were no secrets between us. I could talk to her about anything, big or small, something I could never do with Riley. For some reason, I felt super guilty calling on my brother for a shoulder to lean on.
I shrugged, curling my legs up underneath me on the couch.
“Don’t shrug at me, missy. Spill. What’s eating at you?”
“I’m having a couple of problems, that’s all.” Understatement of the year.
“What kind of problems?”
When I failed to answer, she got up from her chair and rushed to her office door, slamming it shut. She then kicked off what I knew to be a very expensive pair of high heels and flopped onto the couch beside me. Very unladylike, I might add.
“Is it Aidan?”
I blinked at her before letting out a bark of laughter. There was no beating around the bush with Mel.
“In a way, yes. But not how you’re thinking. We broke up a couple of months ago.”
She gaped at me. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
I shrugged. The truth was, I hadn’t wanted to tell her because I didn’t want to disappoint her. She was a woman who was entirely sure of herself and her decisions. She had to be to keep a job like this. And secretly, I aspired to be like her. Confident, sure of myself. What did it say that the first guy I chose to be my boyfriend ended up being the reason for my first trip to the E.R? Not a lot, that’s what.
But as I said, there were no secrets between me and Mel. So, I reluctantly told her about Aidan. Starting from the day he pushed me, right up until yesterday, when he’d threatened me. But I didn’t stop there. I continued right on, telling her about Mr. Phelps picking on me because I’d practically told him he sucked at his job, and even about Serena and her sudden vested interest in seeing my downfall.
I had to admit that when I was finally done spilling my guts, I felt a lot better. I took a deep, relaxing breath, smiling at the peaceful feeling floating within me.
“All this, and you’ve only been at school for a few weeks?” Her voice held a note of incredulity. I nodded. “Wow, you are just one big s**t magnet. Excuse the language,” she added.
I sighed. “Tell me about it. I’m beginning to think the mailman will be after me next, what with the way my luck’s been lately.”
“I still don’t get why Serena’s being such a b***h to you. Well, okay, I get that she’s had it in for you ever since you accidentally cut her hair instead of your masquerade mask in the third grade - which she should totally be over by now. But I find it hard to believe things have reached the death-con-five stage over a boy not wanting to partner with her for an assignment.”
Which is when I spoke without any conscious thought flowing through my mind.
“Oh, but you haven’t seen this boy, Mel. He’s tall, dark and yummy, and has this thick luscious hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it.” Yes, I had my hands curled in front of my face, as if imagining doing jus that. “His eyes are so blue they sparkle, and I’m willing to bet all my millions that a pack of washboard abs lies under that sexy singlet of his.”
Mel’s laughter broke my stupor, sending heat rushing to my cheeks and a groan of embarrassment slipping past my lips.
“Gee, tell me how you really feel,” she said, her smile wide.
“I didn’t mean any of that,” I said, trying to regain some of my dignity. She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Okay, fine. I admit he’s good looking, but he’s still an arrogant jerk. I swear he enjoys seeing me act like a fumbling idiot.”
“Well, you are pretty funny when you’re flustered.”
“Mel! You’re not helping,” I cried, still a bit mortified all of that stuff had just come out of my mouth. Where had it even come from?
“So Serena likes Mr. Yummy, but he gave her the flick to hang out with you instead? And now she’s being a b***h because of it?”
“His name is Tyson,” I said, cheeks flaming anew. “But yeah, pretty much.”
She seemed to contemplate this, twisting a diamond and ruby ring around on her finger. “You know I could fix that for you. She’ll never bother you again.”
I shook my head vehemently. “You cannot go to Malcolm and tattle.”
“Why not?” she asked. Whined would be more accurate. “Tattling is fun, especially when
“Because Malcolm will have a coronary when he finds out his little angel is actually the spawn of Satan. And not only that, but she‘s harassing one of two people that could see his career destroyed.”
Mel grunted, swiping a stray hair from her face. “Too bad you can’t get a refund on children,” she said idly.
“Mel!”
“Alright, alright. So tattling to Malcolm is out.” Suddenly her eyes lit up in glee. “I could -”
“No!” I said forcefully, raising my hand for emphasis, afraid that if I heard her next suggestion I’d like it enough to take her up on the offer. “I’ll deal with Serena. I’ve been doing it just fine for the last few years.”
She sighed. “Fine. Then can I deal with that little punk Aidan? A few well placed words and a firm shove from me and I can guarantee he’ll switch schools.”
I resisted the urge to groan. The woman was on a roll. “He’ll probably switch states, or flee the country entirely.”
She nodded her head thoughtfully. “It’s a definite possibility.”
I shook my head at her. “The fact that you know how terrifying you can be is quite disconcerting.”
The grin she offered in response was decidedly evil. “Just be thankful that you’re cemented into my good books.”
“Oh, I am. Every day. But as for Aidan, I can deal with him too.”
She snorted. “Which is why you’re here, cowering in my office, rather than at school facing the big bad wolf.”
“I am not cowering,” I said, sitting up a little straighter. “I do not cower.” Nor did I deny that being there was an excuse to avoid ‘the big bad wolf’.
“Whatever,” she said, tugging at her chignon until the hair came loose. It fell in waves to just below her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it, combing it out.
“So if Serena and Aidan are out, can I at least come down to your school and throw insults at your economics teacher?”
I chuckled at the vigour in her tone. She was really itching for a fight. My chuckle turned into full fledged laughter as I imagined a very red faced Mr. Phelps getting a good dose of humility from one of the best Chief Financial Officers in the country.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing. I was just imagining my teacher’s face after he’s had a round with you.”
Her eyes lit up. “Does that mean you’ll let me deal to him?”
I shook my head. “No.”
She sighed dramatically and huffed in mock frustration. “Why did you tell me all of this if I’m not allowed to do anything about it? You’re no fun.”
We continued arguing playfully about the situation, with her offering some ‘friendly advice’ that consisted of setting Serena‘s hair on fire - it‘d take forever to grow back, and a girl like Serena wouldn‘t be caught dead looking less than perfect, meaning she’d stop coming to school. Hire a tough guy to beat the crap out of Aidan - see how he likes being the bullied for a change. And switch Mr. Phelps’s Supply and Demand DVD with an R-rated movie. If anything it would be hilarious to see how many shades of red his face was capable of turning.
Riley found us in a fit of laughter half an hour later.
“Hey, Mel. Mind if I borrow Noah for a sec?”
“Sure. I have a ton of paperwork calling my name anyway.” She hopped off the couch and headed back to her desk. “Oh, Noah sweetie, bring me back a coffee when you’re done?”
I nodded and followed my brother out of the room. “What’s up?” I asked as we made our way to his office on the floor above. His suit was already a little worse for wear and his hair was standing on end, as if he’d run his hands through it one too many times. We stepped into the elevator and he pushed the button for the third floor.
While he gathered his thoughts, I rubbed at a coffee stain on his white shirt, trying to make it less noticeable.
“Crap,” he said when he saw what I was doing, probably noticing the stain for the first time.
“Ry, is everything okay?” I was starting to get worried. I’d never seen my brother like this before. Suddenly he looked a lot older than his twenty five years. Stress lines edged his eyes, along with dark circles underneath them.
Riley sighed, a deep breath of frustration. “I have Malcolm in my office, and we’ve come to a disagreement over a supervisor working in one of the factories. I want him out, but Malcolm seems to think the guys working the floor are in the wrong and wants to fire them. Because I’ve disagreed, he intends to get the Board’s input, but I don’t have time to deal with all of the formalities involved. I just want to have it over and done with and move on.”
I gave him a blank look. “Apart from everything you just said being gibberish, what do I have to do with your and Malcolm’s disagreement?”
“I told him you’d be the deciding vote, seeing as you are co-owner and here at the moment. He seemed to accept it.”
“What?” I yelped, grabbing Riley by the arm to halt him as we exited the elevator and made our way across the vast lobby. “I’m hardly in a position to be giving orders around here, and making important decisions,” I hissed. “I’m not even dressed appropriately.” He took in my gray sweatpants and denim jacket. “I told you to dress for work,” he said irritably.
“Yes, but we both knew I was supposed to be spending the day in Mel’s office, not attending impromptu meetings and making executive decisions.”
Riley turned to face me, his expression one of desperation.
“Look, I need you to do this for me.” He held up a hand to cut off my protest. “I’m not asking you to take my side. In fact, I would be most disappointed if you did it simply because we’re siblings and we should stick together. I’m asking you to make as much of an informed decision as you can going by the little information we’ve been provided. But whatever your answer is, it needs to be decided now.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it again. How could I say no when he was relying on me like that? I couldn’t, it was that simple.
I resisted the urge to groan, instead putting on my ‘at work’ face. Which was basically a blanks stare.
“Okay, fill me in.”
By the time we’d made it to Riley’s office, I was completely up to speed. Apparently a supervisor working in our local factory had been accused of racism and slander, with an official complaint being made by the complainant. Now this would be nothing substantial but for the fact that another worker made the same complaint a few days later. Usually this would result in a written warning or dismissal, but the supervisor in question has claimed the two storemen are good pals, even living at the same address, and one is simply covering for the other. He denies all accusations, and is himself pressing for the immediate dismissal of at least one worker.
Riley opened his office door and ushered me inside. Malcolm Holden was standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the cities botanical gardens. He turned as we entered. A portly man, with blue, deep set eyes and thinning blonde hair, he made it easy to presume Serena got her good looks from her mother. And I’d never met Mrs. Holden myself.
“Miss Duke,” he said, coming around to shake my hand. “Always a pleasure.”
“Mr. Holden.” I shook his hand briefly before moving away to sit in one of the chairs reserved for guests. Riley himself flicked Malcolm and annoyed glare before seating himself behind the sturdy oak wood desk to face us, leaving Malcolm with the only available chair left.
“I trust your brother has brought you up to speed on our little dilemma?” Malcolm said, crossing his arms lightly over his bulging stomach.
“Mostly, yes.” Though I still thought I shouldn’t be involved in this.
“Good, good. So let us not waste time. I am of the opinion that Mr. Spencer, the supervisor in question, remain in our employment, seeing as there is no substantial evidence of his misdemeanours, and given the fact that the two complainants are so closely involved with each other. I also believe they are trying to force Mr. Spencer‘s leave, that they do not like him in general.”
“Closely involved?” I asked, immediately thinking of a romantic relationship.
“The two are currently residing at the same address and appear to be very good friends. It makes sense that one friend would back the other in a situation like this.”
I opened my mouth tentatively to respond - and was overridden by Riley’s heated response.
“Yes, but there have been other instances where Mr. Spencer has been accused of racism. At the beginning of last year, someone made a complaint, which was immediately dismissed. And nobody seems to even know why.”
Well that was news. I gave Riley a peeved glare. “Ah, bro, you kinda forgot to mention that.”
Riley sighed, running a hand through his short hair. “Sorry, slipped my mind.”
They both looked at me, waiting expectantly for my input.
“Um.” Great start, Noah, I mentally berated myself. You sound oh so intelligent. “What ethnicity are the two complainants?” I asked, proud of myself for using correct terminology.
“Both are Asian.”
I racked my brain, trying to think of anything else important. “Did anybody else see or hear Mr. Spencer‘s alleged racial remarks?”
Riley shook his head, now fiddling agitatedly with a pen on his desk.
“So it’s pretty much a supervisor’s word against the labourers?” Before they could say anything, I continued. “I say keep everyone.”
They both looked at me like I‘d lost track of the conversation.
“Noah, it doesn’t work like that,” Riley said patiently.
“Why not? The way I see it, you have two parties pointing the blame at each other but denying their faults. On one hand you have a supervisor who may or may not have done it in the past, and may or may not have done it now. On the other hand you have two young labourers who may or may not be working together to get rid of a boss they don’t like. Either way, you’re in a lose-lose situation. Fire the labourers and risk being sued for wrongful termination. Fire the supervisor and do the same. So for now, seeing as how there is so little proof, I suggest you keep everyone on, and see what happens from there. Either the labourers see their plans won’t work and quit of their own accord, or Mr. Spencer slips up again and we fire him.”
Riley looked at me, a proud smile on his face. Going by that alone, I’d say I’d actually said something intelligent.
“Malcolm?” Riley turned his questioning gaze to my left.
Malcolm sighed heavily, but the hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips.
“Well, Miss Duke. You certainly present a solid argument. I have no choice but to concede that I was being rash earlier and accept your solution to the problem.”
Riley leaned back in his chair. “Great, then it’s settled.” His next words were to Malcolm. “Get management to inform Mr. Spencer and the boys.”
“Will do.” With that Malcolm rose from his seat and exited the room.
I exhaled long and loud, unaware I had been holding my breath.
“Well,” I said, standing to stretch my legs. “At least I didn’t make an a*s of myself.”
Riley chuckled, coming to stand next to me. Before I could react, he wrapped me into a tight hug. “You have no idea how brilliant you were. You just saved me weeks of dealing with the Board, Malcolm’s happy, I’m happy. Job well done.”
I laughed into his shoulder, squeezing him back. I was just happy I’d been able to relieve some of the stress he’d been dealing with. Come to think of it, this was the happiest I’d been in weeks. And there wasn’t anything that was going to rain on my parade.

My scowl deepened as I glared at my phone. Tyson was fifteen minutes late and counting. I’d sent him a message when I’d arrived at the library this morning to let him know I was in a study booth towards the back, but had received no reply. Either he was ignoring my message, or he’d purposely given me the wrong number. I wouldn’t put it past him to make me look like an idiot. Lead me on a wild goose chase so he could laugh about what an idiot I’d been later. To think I’d been nervous about meeting him alone outside of school hours. Hard to be nervous if the guy didn’t even show up.
I flipped angrily through the book I’d picked at random from the shelf nearest me, not really seeing the words or pictures. If I ended up wasting my Sunday here, accomplishing nothing, I was going to lose it. I glanced around the half filled room. For a Sunday, it was pretty lively. All of the plush chairs and couches to the left were occupied with people reading quietly, and half of the study booths lining the right hand wall were taken, most of the occupants seeming to be local college students trying to cram in some extra study time. I snapped my head up as someone pushed through the revolving door at the far end, but sighed when I saw it wasn’t Tyson. I went back to reading my book. Well, flipping the pages really.
Another five minutes passed torturously slow. I sighed and thumped my head onto the book. Five more minutes. If he wasn’t here in five more minutes, I was leaving. Hell, it was clear he didn’t want to be my partner any more than I wanted to be his. So if he didn’t show up today, I was going to go and find some random person on the street and use them as my case study, Tyson be damned. So just five more minutes.
“That’s what you said five minutes ago,” I muttered to myself. “Just admit it, you’re waiting with the vain hope that the boy has grown a conscience to go with that fine body of his.”
“Who’s got a fine body?”
The words had me yelping in surprise. I jerked my head off the book and looked up to meet Tyson’s amused gaze. My outcry had garnered me the attention of the librarian restacking a shelf nearby. The heavyset woman gave me a disapproving look before going back to what she was doing.
I cleared my throat, twisting my hands nervously in my lap.
“What?” I asked, playing dumb. Remain cool and collected. That was the key when dealing with Tyson.
“You just said -”
“Ha-ha!” Oh yeah, hysterical laughter. That was just so cool. “I know what I said,” I managed to say. His lips quirked further. He was really enjoying himself. “I was um, just talking to myself. About someone.” I looked him up and down, taking in said fine body, that was wrapped in a maroon long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of faded Levi’s. He caught me looking and raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t mean you,” I rushed to add, but something in his eyes told me he didn’t believe the lie.
I cleared my throat, my eyes darting everywhere in an attempt to avoid staring at him. “Anyway, you’re late,” I said, closing the book in front of me with a snap. “I was just about to leave.”
He sighed and sat down opposite me. At such a close range, his deliciously masculine scent washed over me. My ever malfunctioning heart skipped a beat, but I ignored it.
“Go ahead, be my guest.”
I blinked at him. “You realise if I leave, you won’t be able to complete the assignment.”
He shrugged. “Neither will you.”
I glared at him. As much as I wanted to get up and walk away right now, a part of me - a very, very small part of me, was glad that he hadn‘t stood me up.
“Did you not get my message?” I asked.
“I got it. It’s what woke me up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be impressed that you managed to drag yourself out of bed, put on some clean clothes and get here in fifteen minutes? Well, I’m not.” Total lie. I was and probably always would be in awe of his just-been-dragged-out-of-bed look. He still had a sleepy expression about him, his eyes heavy lidded. That alone was enough to make my heart start a happy, albeit very irregular rhythm, and have butterflies dancing to the beat in my stomach.
Tyson shrugged, then lifted his butt off the chair to pull a slightly worse for wear notebook and a pen from his back pocket.
“So, are you staying or going?” he asked, slapping the book onto the desk in front of him.
“Do I have a choice?” I muttered.
“That’s the spirit.” Despite his words, his tone was flat, letting me know just how much the idea appealed to him. Nice to know I was practically first on his list of people he did not want to spend time with willingly. “Oh,” he said, sliding some paper out from his book. He flicked it towards me. “Class notes from Thursday and Friday. Miss Clarke asked me to give you a copy of mine, but I already know it all, so you can just keep my original notes.”
I unfolded the paper, and was surprised to see neat, cursive, double writing decorating the pages. I looked at Tyson and then back at the words repeatedly, trying to find some similarity between the harsh, blunt boy and his smooth, gentle writing. I didn’t think any existed.
“This is your writing?” I asked, disbelief clear in my voice.
He gave me an even stare. “Yeah. What of it?”
I looked down at it again, idly running my fingers over it. “Nothing. It’s just, well, it’s so pretty.”
“I sit next to you in class, almost every day, and this is the first time you’ve noticed my writing?”
I rolled my eyes at him, unable to help myself. “Listen, Mr. Hot Shot. Just because I sit next to you doesn’t mean I pay attention to every little thing you do. You’re not that interesting.” Only a partial lie. It was true I didn’t pay attention to every little thing he did, but I damn sure tried my hardest. How I’d failed to notice such beautiful penmanship was a wonder.
Amusement glittered in his eyes. “Really? So, tell me. When exactly were you expecting me to develop a conscience to go with this fine body of mine?”
I gaped at him, mouth flapping open and shut slightly, completely at a loss for words. No, I screamed mentally. Don’t pack up and die now. Deny everything. Throw a comeback at him. Say something, anything!
“I - um, I wasn’t - you weren’t,” I trailed off, knowing that anything I said would only serve to embarrass me further. I really needed to take lessons in comebacks. I freely admit I was a bit slow on the uptake of such things.
“Lets just move on, shall we?” I said through clenched teeth, avoiding all eye contact. My cheeks were positively burning, my ears too. It was all I could do not to pick up the book in front of me and start fanning myself.
“Okay,” he said, granting me mercy.
We worked in silence for the next few minutes, each coming up with five open ended questions for the case study. When I was done, I tapped my pen against the desk and stared out the window, but still managing to sneak sideways glances Tyson’s way. The fact that he hadn’t shown up with any bruises or in a rage suggested that Aidan had yet to start his insane plans for revenge on both of us. I had been meaning to let Tyson know that I’d somehow painted a bullseye on his a*s for Aidan to shoot at, but it’s not the kind of thing you send in a message. “Oh by the way, Aidan’s out for your blood. Enjoy your day.” Though I guess now would be the perfect time to drop that bomb. If I didn’t and he found out the hard way, it’d be all my fault.
I cleared my throat meaningfully. “I uh, I may have gotten you into a spot of trouble,” I mumbled, doodling in the margin of my book.
He looked up from the paragraph he’d been writing and eyed me warily.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I had a bit of an argument with Aidan, my ex, and your name kinda got brought up.” Thanks to me and my big mouth, but I wasn’t about to cement the fact and land the blame entirely in my lap.
He arched an eyebrow at that. “I didn’t know I was a hot topic with you and your ex,” he said. I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Trust Tyson to think of it as being all about him. “You’re not, trust me. It was merely a slip of the tongue. He mentioned the little accident I had when I first met you and against better judgement I told him that you’d given me a ride home.”
He dropped his pen and penned me with an incredulous stare. “A ‘little accident’? Didn’t you end up with twelve stitches?”
I waved my hand dismissively. I didn’t bring it up to rehash the details, I was just trying to warn him.
“It was ten stitches, and that’s beside the point. I’m just letting you know that he might start giving you a hard time.”
“Why?” And wasn’t that the million dollar question.
“Because he didn‘t like what I had to say to him, and he thinks that something is going on between the two of us.”
Tyson snorted, a sound that was surprisingly delicate for someone so masculine.
“Is he blind?” he asked. “I mean, I hardly have anything to do with you.”
I sighed, rubbing my eyes in frustration. “You’re wasting your time, preaching to the converted and all. But in answer to him being blind, I’d have to go ahead and say yes. Otherwise he wouldn’t be after you like a moth seeking a flame.”
Tyson let out a bark of laughter, the noise completely devoid of humour. “You sure know how to pick them,” he said.
“You know what, I hardly think one bad boyfriend constitutes my taste in guys. For all you know, I could have dated the teenage equivalent to Ghandi before Aidan came along.” My ears turned red even as I said it, and I had to resist the urge to groan. Jesus Christ, how had I not run out of stupid things to say yet? Refusing to meet Tyson’s amused gaze, I scribbled out the flowers I’d been drawing in my notebook.
“Is that why you were absent the last couple days? Because Aidan‘s hassling you?” I could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face.
“No,” I snapped. “I never said he was hassling me. I said he was after you. I was just busy.”
“Right.” In that one word alone, I knew he didn’t believe me.
“Lets just get on with what we came here to do. Do you have the list of questions Miss Clarke handed out in class?”
Tyson slipped the piece of paper out of his notebook and handed it to me. I scanned the list of questions and decided to go for the easiest one first.
“Alright. Parents names?”
Tyson stiffened ever so slightly. The fact that I was watching him closely was the only reason I noticed. But what had him so on edge all of a sudden? It’s not like I’d asked him to provide all the gory details of every single sexual encounter he’d had over his short life. Now with something as personal as that, I’d understand his sudden recoil.
“You first,” he said firmly.
I fumbled with the paper as a nervous sweat broke out along the back of my neck, and I cursed myself. Come on, I had already talked myself into this, into giving him all of the information he’d need to complete his assignment. I mean, fair’s fair, and all that. But giving myself a pep talk on the way over, and actually sitting here with the words on the tip of my tongue were two completely different things. Now that we were at crunch time, I was unable to deliver the goods. I needed to buy myself some time to regather all of the courage I seemed to have left in my truck.
I shook my head. “No. I asked you first.”
“So?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind the back of his head.
“So why can’t you just answer the question? It’s not rocket science.” Fear of revealing my own family status may have had my words coming out a bit snappish.
He was silent for so long I thought maybe he wasn’t going to answer. Then he huffed in annoyance and looked out the window.
“Don’t have any,” was his clipped response.
My pen paused over the notebook. If ever there was a cryptic answer, that was it. Now he left me with the awkward decision as to whether I ploughed ahead and tried to figure out exactly what that meant, or just let it be and wrote down orphan right away.
“What do you mean?” I queried, going for option one.
“Just what I said.” Same clipped tone.
“Are they deceased?” I asked, trying to sound gentle.
“Nope.”
Confused, I groped for other possibilities. “Are you adopted?”
“Nope.”
Gee, thanks for being so forthcoming with information. If he wasn’t adopted and his parents weren’t dead, then it didn’t leave much else to go with.
“Are you in the foster system?”
He gave me a droll stare. “I’m over eighteen.”
That would mean no, in Tyson speak.
“Do you live with grandparents or a relative?” Though even as I asked, I felt I already knew the answer.
He shook his head. Great. I sighed heavily, massaging my temples. “You know, you’re not being very helpful,” I said through clenched teeth. “You make everything so damn difficult.”

“Ask me if I give a s**t,” he exploded, his expression suddenly livid.
I sat in stunned silence, shocked by the venom in his voice. I think I’d just reached a new record in pissing the guy off.
“Tyson, I -”
“You asked me the question, I gave you the answer,” he said, talking over top of me. “It’s not my problem if you’re not satisfied.”
I ground my teeth in sheer frustration, and had to take a few deeps breaths to calm myself down. It was either that or yell at the fool and get us both kicked out of here.
“How am I supposed to complete the assignment if you keep giving me half assed answers?” So much for calming breaths. My voice was so loud it reverberated around the large room. Several people cast annoyed glances our way but I ignored them, focused only on Tyson, who was scowling something fierce.
I returned the favour gladly, refusing to back down. He needed an attitude adjustment, that was for sure. And if he thought he could cow me into submission by scowling at me, he had another thing coming.
“Forget it,” he finally said, rising in one fluid motion and grabbing his notebook.
“Where are you going?” I demanded. “We haven’t even started.”
“We’re done,” was his response before he stalked to the far side of the room and out the revolving doors.
Oh, I just love it when a plan falls apart like that, I thought sarcastically.
I smacked my head onto the table in pure frustration, and this time without the book to dull the blow, all I did was give myself a headache.

Reviews

[life*of*equiluxe]

hehe, "gave her the flick". we would say "gave her the cold shoulder". have I mentioned how much I like your writing? I love Mel! I am glad that Noah has a confidant/ role model. Really wondering what is up with Tyson, and ready for more interactions between them! Sounds like both of them are having a bad week!