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I stopped in my tracks, shoved my phone back in my purse, and turned to face him. “What are you doing there?”
Rainer maintained a poker face. “It’s Gray’s eighteenth birthday tomorrow,” he said.
“Oh.” I stared at my shoes, chastising myself for forgetting a very important milestone in Gray’s life, before meeting Rainer’s creepy glare once more and stumbling back. “Ohhkay,” I started, “thank you for the notification,” and continued walking away.
To my dismay, he blocked my path.
He gave me a smirk before removing his hands from the pockets of his leather jacket. He craned his neck and licked his own lips, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned a little too close toward my nose.
I sniffed him.
“You smell,” I remarked.
“You can smell me?” I could almost sense his disbelief mixed with a tiny bit of intrigue.
I raised an eyebrow, bewilderment shining upon me. Never had I ever heard such a weird question. “Yeah, well, I do have a nose, you know. I’m pretty good at reading people’s minds too.” I stepped back, feeling feverish as I fought the urge to throw a punch at him. He did say a copious amount of abnormal stuff to Keith after all. I had a good reason to deem him an untrustworthy sociopath. “Unofficially,” I added with a nervous gulp. “And you smell suspicious.”
“Relax,” he spoke in a low, dead voice—which, by the way, didn’t help improve the uncomfortable situation he had me confined in. “I just need you to send a message to Gray.”
“I thought that’s what we have cell phones for?” I asked with a sarcastic tone.
He half smiled and straightened his body. “Tell him I think you’re beautiful.”
I emitted a cackle of laughter, unimpressed—but only briefly—before the perplexing atmosphere got on my nerves, pressuring me to pause and ask, “Uh … how about no? Are you guys not on good terms that I have to tell him that myself? You don’t think that would make me sound conceited?”
He growled under his breath. Perfectly normal, right? Not.
My arms flailed like a penguin flapping in despair. “Look, you don’t really want to threaten him or whatever you call this … by using me.”
I caught his full attention. “Why not, beautiful?”
“It’s a cowardly move.”
His vicious eyes widened.
“You’re not here for that,” I put it together, and he listened as if I were a Buddha he loathed. “You’re here because it’s his birthday tomorrow, and you want to greet him. You’re also here because you feel awful about whatever horrible thing you did to him. You’re here because you’re afraid to face him, but you know deep inside that you want to talk to him and apologize for being a bad friend or for being M.I.A. See that look in your eyes? It’s called regret. So go talk to him yourself, okay?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His tone intensified.
“No? Are you on drugs, then?” Before I could say another word, he grabbed my arm and pushed my back against one of the trees on the street. “Ouch!” I yelped, somewhat offended. My back felt the bruise forming within a second.
“I regret nothing,” he raised his voice, his irises glowing red as his grip on my shoulders tightened immediately.
I swallowed a gasp, because what the hell? He looked worse than a druggie, it wasn’t even funny anymore.
“All I want is to show him who the alpha is,” he said before leaning in to kiss me.
Hold up, hold up.
As if I would let him assault me without a fight. No freaking way.
I headbutted him in the face, and only then figured I was at a definite disadvantage. All it did to him was make him angrier, and every second counted. Meanwhile, the intense pain radiated from my forehead into my cerebellum like a bomb detonating inside of me, setting me off course, in a very defenseless posture. I called it the boomerang effect. Did I think about the risk beforehand? No, I did not think at all.
As soon as he laid his red eyes on me, I had this feeling that I’d have to skip school again and risk my high school diploma.
Geez, whoever is writing the story of my life should be sued.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, curling his hand into a fist as he aimed for my precious face. I screamed in the back of my mind, anticipating his punch but nothing came. His movements seemed to have slowed down—at least in my eyes—until an arm wearing a stainless-steel watch prevented the oncoming blow that could have led to my first concussion.
