Shattered Promises Part 2

The only thing I do know is that I've never been this livid in my entire life.

On Friday, I have a study date with Alex and Aislin in the library so we can put the project together. I've seen a lot of them over the last few days. In fact, they seem to pop up everywhere. Aislin is polite and Alex is... well, I'm not sure if there's a word for what he is. One minute he's fine-quiet, in his own little world-and the next he's making a smarta.s.s remark about me; from the color of my eyes, to my l.u.s.tful fascination with him (his words, not mine). He is one of the most contradictory people I've ever met and that is saying a lot since I can barely contain my own, newly present, emotions.

When I show up to the library, they're sitting at a table in the far back corner. Alex is messing with a compa.s.s and has a contemplative look on his face as he twists the k.n.o.b on the top. Aislin sits next to him and is engulfed with whatever is on the screen of her phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Bakerly." I wave at the elderly librarian behind the counter. I work part-time at the library, which is a nice job, since I love books, especially science-fiction novels. Give me a story with a witch, vampire, faerie, or anything that isn't human and I am good to go.

She pushes her finger against the brim of her nose and nudges her overly large gla.s.ses up. Then she raises her hand to reciprocate my wave and looks back to the computer screen.

I drop down in the seat across from Alex and Aislin and let my bag fall to the floor. The wind has been blowing outside and my cheeks are anesthetized from the cold. I unwind my scarf from my neck and slip off my gloves, aware that Alex is watching me attentively.

"Am I particularly fascinating today?" I glance up at him with my lips pressed together.

He's wearing another long sleeve grey Henley that shows the outline of his muscular arms and his hair is disheveled like it always is. I've learned over the last few days that it's his trademark look and it is a nice one, but I always have the compulsion to run my fingers through it. He sets the gold-plated compa.s.s down on the table and for the briefest second it looks like it's...o...b..d by a golden light, but by the time I blink, it's gone.

He folds his arms and leans over with a displeased expression, but amus.e.m.e.nt dances in his eyes. "Not really. Only that you have a candy wrapper stuck in your hair. How about you? Anything particularly fascinating about me today?"

"Nope." I comb my fingers through my hair until I find the plastic wrapper. Balling it up, I stuff it into my pocket, and then drape my coat over the back of my chair.

"Yeah, right." He smirks. "In fact, you look a little flushed by my presence."

Just keep calm. Keep calm. "That's from the cold outside." I cup my hands onto my iced cheeks to defrost them.

"Sure it is." He enjoys this-getting under my skin.

"Oh my G.o.d." Aislin gasps. "Gemma, you're frozen."

"I got about halfway here and then had to go back to the car because I forgot my phone," I explain, rubbing my hands together to thaw them. "I think it's only like two degrees outside."

Alex measures me up with his head c.o.c.ked to the side. "You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago."

"I drive slow when it's snowing." I reach inside my pocket to silence an incoming call as my phone begins to ring. "I don't have four-wheel drive."

He glances over his shoulder at the window where snowflakes flutter down from the clouded sky. "It's not that bad out there."

"It's completely bad," I retort, irritated that he's wiggling his way under my skin again. It's as if I have no power over my emotions when it comes to him and I've only known him for a week. How will things progress the longer I know him? "I could barely see."

He scrutinizes me. "Then maybe, you should have stayed home."

"I would love to have stayed home," I quip. "In the warmth, reading a good book, but you guys insisted we had to do this here."

His gaze bores into me as he nibbles on his lip. Last night, in my dreams, I'd bitten on that lip several times, along with the blonde stranger's. "Actually, that was Aislin who insisted. I was perfectly content at the idea of everyone working on this on their own and that way we wouldn't have to see each other."

My lungs are twitching to release the scream building up inside them. "Are you always this much of an a.s.shole or do you just save it for me?"

He leans over the table more and our lips are so close they almost touch. His breath is hot against my skin and there is a challenge in his green eyes, as if he's daring me to argue with him. "I save all of it just for you."

Aislin snaps her cell phone shut. "Okay, I hate to break up your little moment, but I have to go." She collects her coat and purse off the back of her chair as she stands up. "There's an emergency at the... restaurant where I work and I need to go in."

"What kind of emergency?" Alex questions as he slumps back in his chair.

"I don't know." She shrugs and slips her arms through the sleeves of a fur-trimmed coat. She flips her hair out from beneath the collar and hitches the handle of her purse over her shoulder. "I just got a text saying that they need me to come in as soon as possible."

Alex looks unconvinced. "Bulls.h.i.+t. You're bailing so you can go out with that dude you met last week."

Aislin points her finger at him. "Be nice while I'm gone. I mean it. And get some stuff done. You've been slacking and letting Gemma and I pick up your workload." She waves at me. "See you later, Gemma."

I give her a small wave as she walks toward the exit, pressing b.u.t.tons on her phone. Alex and I watch her until she disappears out the doors.

When he looks at me again, he seems nervous. His posture's stiff and he keeps fidgeting with his sleeves; pus.h.i.+ng them up and then tugging them back down. "So, I guess it's just you and me."

"I guess so," I mutter as electricity caresses my skin.

Silence stacks around us and I begin to fidget. Each tick of the clock, thump of a book being put on the shelf and each whisper only add to the awkwardness.

Alex begins tapping his pen on the table as if he thinks he's a drummer. He's eyeballing the corner of the library where a tall, blond girl, wearing a short skirt is browsing through a row of books. As she bends over to search the bottom shelf, Alex slants his head to the side to get a better view of her a.s.s.

So that's his type.

The longer I contemplate her being Alex's type, the more infuriated I grow. The cause behind the manifestation of these feelings is unknown, which makes the situation that much more frustrating. Every time he taps that d.a.m.n pen, the potency of the sparks surges. They no longer feel like soft kisses, but like little bites from a thousand gnats.

"Can you cut the tapping out?" I ask him, releasing my death grip from the chair. I put my elbows on the desk and press my fingertips to my temples. "It's hurting my head."

He tears his gaze away from the blond and the corners of his lips quirk. "Probably not. In fact, it's very important that I don't."

I slouch back in my chair and blow out a frustrated breath. "Why are you such an a.s.shole to me? Did I do something to you that I don't know about, besides touching you without permission?"

"Kind of."

"Can you tell me what, then? So I won't do it again."

"Nah, I'd rather not."

I pierce my fingernails into my palms as the p.r.i.c.kle jabs at my neck and blots my vision with red. "Why not?"

He shrugs as he drags his teeth along the top of the pen and his tongue slips out from his mouth. "It's complicated."

"The story of my life," I mumble, breathing through the last of my rage. The feeling has pa.s.sed. Thank G.o.d.

"What's so complicated in your life?" He tosses the pen on the table and crosses his arms over his chest. "You seem like you have it easy, if you ask me."

"You barely know me," I say. "So don't make a.s.sumptions about me. For all you know, I could be a recovering crack addict, struggling to keep my sobriety."

"Are you?" He doubts.

I scowl at him. "No, but the point is that I could be."

"But, you're not." He pauses. "You know, you could always try to explain the complexity of your life to me, so I don't have to make a.s.sumptions. Maybe it'll turn out that I'm a really great listener."

I'm flabbergasted. "You seriously want to hear about my problems? You want me to pour my heart and soul out to you? Be my best friend?"

He winces at something I've said. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Then, why are we even talking about this?" My fingers seek my jacket on the back of the chair and I prepare to make a dramatic exit. "I think that day on the bench you made it pretty clear that you didn't like me and that you don't want to get to know me."

He meticulously watches me for a moment, then his eyes sweep around the room like he's about to do something wrong. "Okay, here's the deal. I promise I won't be a jerk anymore." He checks over his shoulder again and then reduces the volume of his voice until it's low and husky. "In fact, I'll be really nice to you. And I mean really, really nice."

I remain calm on the outside, but on the inside, I'm a violent storm of emotions. Some are fueled by rage and others by the s.e.xiness of his G.o.dd.a.m.n voice. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you suddenly going to be nice to me? When all you've done is be rude and insult me. What's the catch?"

"When did I ever insult you?"

"Yesterday, in cla.s.s, you said that my eyes were," I make air quotes, "'Weird' and that they throw your concentration off whenever you have to look at them. That was the second time you've taken a jab at them, too."

"I didn't mean that as a bad thing," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "They're just distracting because they're..."

"Violet," I finish with my eyes fastened on him.

"Actually, I was going to go with different." There's a tiny indication of a smile on his lips. "But, violet works. It's not a bad thing, though. Different is good. It's normal that's overrated."

"The first time we met, you let the door slam me in the elbow," I remind him, lowering my voice as Mrs. Bakerly glares at me from behind the counter. s.h.i.+t. The last thing I need is to lose my job. I fold my arms on top of the table, lean my weight on them, and incline my body forward. "And, you got mad at me because I..."

The smile that breaks through his face is so radiant that his eyes sparkle under the lights. "Because you touched me."

I roll my tongue in my mouth trying to contain my aggravation. "It still didn't mean you had to be rude to me."

"I know." He appears genuinely sincere. "And, I'm sorry about that. I was having a rough morning."

I evaluate him. Can he feel the electricity, too? Because I sure as h.e.l.l can. He seems content, calm, and perfectly in control with his shoulders relaxed and his eyes soft. "It hurt when the door hit my elbow."

"And again, I'm sorry." He looks around the room again, paying extra attention to the door where a few people are wandering in.

"Are you expecting someone?" I ask, craning my neck to look around at the door and the shelves. "Or are you looking for an escape route."

"That depends on if you're planning to try and attack me again," he quips, his lips teasing upward. "Like when we first met."

"I didn't try to attack you," I protest, narrowing my eyes at him. "I just put my hands on you."

"Without permission," he points out with that d.a.m.n c.o.c.ky smirk on his face. "Tell me, do you always do that with people you don't know?"

"Do you always let doors slam on people that you don't know?" It's like we're running around in circles, bantering and bickering like an old couple. I need to leave and put a stop to it, but it's the most interaction I've had with another human being and, despite the negativity, I'm kind of enjoying myself.

"Again, you touched me without permission," he says. "What did you expect to happen?"

"You know what, you're so right." I hold up my hand, showing him my palm. "You see this scar right here." I trace my finger along a faint white scar and let sarcasm drip through my voice. "I put my hand on this guy once and he cut my hand open, but I guess it was okay because I put my hands on him without permission." A total bulls.h.i.+t lie, but I'm trying to make a point.

He leans back in his chair, positioning his fist in front of his mouth to conceal a smile. "Sounds like the perfect punishment." He reads through my bulls.h.i.+t lie like an open book.

I roll my eyes and let my hand fall onto the table. "Look, I'm sorry for touching you. I just... I don't know why I did it."

"Because you're attracted to me," he states with overconfidence. "But, don't worry, you aren't the first."

I shake my head and melodramatically move my hand toward my bag as if what he said is the most absurd thing ever. I decide then that I will leave and prove a point; that despite the fact that he is telling the truth, I don't have to listen to him.

Quickly rising from the chair, he reaches over the table and seizes my wrist. Bringing my hand to the table, he traps it there beneath his. "Listen, I'm not much of a people person, so sometimes I say things that come off as..."

"As you being an a.s.shole." I'm angry, irritated, as well as extremely hot and bothered by his touch.

"That's one way to put it." He smiles, but then it fades into a frown. "But, if you'll let me, I swear to G.o.d, I'll be nice. In fact, I promise I will."

I stare at his hand on my arm and his fingers cup around my wrist. "People make empty promises all the time."

"I never promise anything unless I mean it." He loosens his grip and s.h.i.+fts the position of his hand so it's extended over the table. "So, I'm promising you that I'll be nice."

I mull it over and then put my hand in his, feeling as though I'm betraying my self-worth, but it's worth it just to get some peace for the rest of my time here. As soon as our skin comes into contact, it's like my mind has been sucked into a pressurized bottle and my brain torrents with vivid images.

Alex presses his hand to mine and there is a river of blood streaming down his forearm. "I promise I'll never let anything happen to you."

"Forever?" I ask, my hand trembling against his as warm blood spills down my arm.

He smiles. "I promise." He leans over the small box situated between us and the candles burn luminously from inside the dirt cave. "And I never promise anything unless I mean it."

As I look into his eyes, I only see truth and when he kisses me, pressing his lips to mine, devouring me, tasting me and feeling me with his free hand; I know that he's all I want.

I gasp, jerking my hand away as my heart squeezes inside my chest. "s.h.i.+t."

He calmly draws his hand away and rests it on the table. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." I take a deep breath, my pulse frantically pounding against the outpouring of adrenaline in my body. I search his eyes, looking for a sign that he experienced the same thing. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He reaches toward a stack of books on the table. "Maybe we should get to work."

What is happening to me? These things... these images... what are they? I press down everything I'm feeling, the perplexity, fear, the longing, and I nod.

"Can I ask you one more question?" he asks as I flick the cap off my pen.

I nod, distracted by my thoughts. "Sure."

"Where did you really get the scar?"

I stare down at the thin line running across my palm. "I have no idea... I can't remember."

He doesn't seem alarmed by my answer, instead, he appears satisfied. He begins highlighting notes with a bright yellow marker and I do the same. Finally, after searching through an entire stack of books and finding nothing, I decide to go look for more in the Astronomy Section and see if I can find anything on Gamma-ray burst. Alex doesn't ask where I'm going because he's caught up in flirting with Blondie.