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“He’s not my type,” I reply, going for honesty, still scanning his face, following the shallow dips beneath his cheekbones and the sharp edge of his jaw. His eyes are hooded, relaxed, an acorn brown ringed by a striking dark chocolate.
“I’m your type,” he states boldly, his soft-looking lips twitch into that familiar, arrogant smirk.
Laughing, I shake my head at him. “No, you’re not.”
“Why not? Every girl I’ve ever met wants to sleep with me.”
I look him directly in the eyes, he really is so fucking arrogant. “Not me.”
He narrows his gaze. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true, Nok. I’m not into you. I’m not into anyone.”
He shifts and I know I’ve frustrated him. He doesn’t like not being wanted, he’s so used to being fawned over and he’s probably not afraid to admit it. “Is it just dating you’re not into? Because I’m not about to try and take you to the movies.”
That’s an admission that he wants to fuck me, it’s backwards but it’s there.
This is it. I have him.
“It’s not that either. I just…” I look up at the sky and squint against the sun. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
“What about you makes you not want to date?”
“Not just date, I don’t fuck either.”
“Are you a virgin?”
I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that.”
His breath leaves him and then he asks on a whisper, “Are you into girls?” His thick brows furrow with curiosity and intrigue.
“No.”
“Then why don’t you want to sleep with me? Everyone wants to sleep with me.” He grins, only half joking in a smug way. Because just not being into him can’t be a possibility, I’d have to be a lesbian or a prude.
“Not me,” I respond, folding my arms and raising my chin.
He looks so entirely perplexed. “And why not?”
Hook. “Because.”
“Because…?”
Line. “I’ve heard how big you are.”
His lips stretch into a smile, uncovering his perfect teeth. I just batted his ego out of the ballpark. “And that’s a problem because?”
Sinker. “Because I’m really tight. Extremely.”
He laughs once, a quick, startled sound but then he sees I’m not joking. His smile fades and his eyes lose all arrogance and harshness. I just killed his brain.
“How tight?” His voice is hoarse. He swallows audibly.
I take his hand in mine and uncurl his forefinger from his fist. Then I wrap my hand around it and squeeze. “That tight.”
When I’m thoroughly convinced that all he can now think about is wrapping my legs around his waist, I release him and stand. The bell will ring soon anyway, and I need to use the facilities. All this talk of sleeping with him has gotten me worked up too.
“See you later, Nokosi Locklear.”
He doesn’t respond, he just remains under the tree, staring after me as I all but skip away.
I almost have him where I want him.
Almost.
Now I’ve just got to figure out my next step. Nokosi Locklear is going down.
“Miss Deville,” a voice calls from the reception as I pass.
I stop and look at the sour-faced secretary.
“Can you come here for a moment?”
I nod and follow her, listening to the sound of her kitten heels clicking on the wooden floor.
I stop at this side of her desk as she goes around the other side and shuffles a few papers around.
“I’m struggling to locate your schoolwork from your prior schools. I know you’ve already done most of your finals, but in order for you to finish the year and graduate I really need a record of them.”
I sigh heavily. “We have this same problem everywhere I go.”
“Is it something you can chase up yourself? You might have more luck.”
Smiling, I nod and tap my fingers on the desk. “I was just going to suggest that exact thing. Give me a couple of weeks, is that okay?”
“That’s fine, if not you’ll have to redo the year so far.”
I nod again and turn towards the door.
“Also,” she adds softly. “There’s no record of you at the last two schools you listed.”
Fuck.
“Yeah, that happens too. We move so much that a lot of time I get into a school and then straight out of it again. I’ll be out of here in a few weeks too. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
She looks unsure. “What about your mom? Is it something she can handle?”
“She’s busy working.”
She clucks, unhappy about that but doesn’t argue.
“Okay. Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Deville.” She nods for me to go and clicks away on her computer. I leave, letting my chest deflate from the relief that the encounter is over. She looks so bitter with her pursed lips and scowling eyes.
“Jesus,” I snap when I almost walk into Nokosi who is standing to the right of the door. “Don’t do that.”
“Which school did you go to last?” he asks, falling into step beside me.
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Salt Lake High.”
