My lip twitches at her mocking me. She looks quite adorable when she’s pissed like this, like a little kitten. If I only knew how to find the right spot to give her a scratch, I’m sure she’d be purring happily in my hands.
“Not a fan of James Bond?”
“I don’t care one way or the other about Bond. I just find it insufferable that people actually think they can own it.”
I burst out laughing, which only makes her scowl harder. “Oh, baby, I can own it just fine.”
Yasmin rolls her eyes and pulls her hand out of mine. “Was there something you needed? Because I have places to be.”
“Anywhere in particular?” I ask, fishing for information.
Yasmin gives me another infuriated sigh and starts walking again. Without missing a beat, I follow in her footsteps, ignoring a side glare she throws at me.
“Library. Sound familiar? The place where people go to study.”
“I know the library very well. I have even occasionally stepped inside.” I feign a mock gasp. “Can you believe it?”
“Not sure why I should care.” She shrugs her shoulder, her puffy jacket moving with the motion.
See what I’m saying? Yasmin Hernandez hates my guts. And for some fucked-up reason, I can’t seem to let it go. Hell, on some level I even like it. I like that she doesn’t just fall for my charm and empty words, but actually makes me work for it.
I narrow my eyes at her, contemplating. “Is there a particular reason you don’t like me? Or maybe you don’t like guys in general.”
At this, she laughs. Actually laughs.
“So predictable.” Yasmin rolls her eyes. “Why is it that guys think just because a girl doesn’t like them, she’s not into guys at all? We’re allowed to not like just some guys. And as it turns out, I don’t like overbearing, get-in-your-face, thinks-he’s-God’s-gift-to-women guys in particular.”
“That is pretty specific.”
“I’m a specific kind of girl.”
“I’m starting to realize that.”
“Well, at least you realize something.” Suddenly she stops. “If there’s nothing you actually need to discuss with me, I have shit to do.”
Realizing this is getting us nowhere, I lift my hands in surrender. “I’ll let you be.”
For now.
A frown between her brows deepens, her mouth opening, then closing, as if she thinks I’ll protest, and she’ll have to fight me on it.
You aren’t the only one who can keep people on their toes, Yasmin. Not by far.
“Great.” Once again, she tries to puff out the strand of hair that’s getting in her face. Taking a step forward, I close the distance between us.
“It’s stuck.”
Yasmin inhales sharply, and I can feel the way her body tenses, but I don’t step back. Instead, I reach forward and softly push the lock behind her ear before moving back once again, not once breaking our stare.
Yasmin sucks her lower lip between her teeth, grazing over the soft flesh before letting it pop out.
“Great,” she repeats, her voice growing huskier and doing things to me it most definitely shouldn’t. Not after the cold shower she gave me just moments earlier. “Thanks. I’ll go now. See you around.”
She nods decisively, closing the conversation. Turning on the balls of her feet, she continues on her way, not once looking back.
“See you around, Yas.”
Chapter Three
YASMIN
Knocking on the door so I don’t startle her, I peek my head inside. “Hey Cals, ready to go?”
My best friend and roommate’s head snaps up when she hears me, a smile forming on her lips. “Sure thing. Just gimme a second.”
I watch her lean in and help one of the kids, Joseph, I think, with his drawing before patting him on the shoulder and straightening up.
I met Callie on my first day at Blairwood. To say we started off on the wrong foot would be an understatement. Neither of us was particularly happy to be there for different reasons. Callie especially, since she was supposed to have her own room, but me enrolling late ended up cramping her style. We’ve come a long way since then.
“Have any plans for tonight? I figured you could come with me…”
“It’s Tuesday,” I interrupt her. My explanation is vague, but she gets it.
“O-ho. Meeting the mystery guy?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
If only you knew, I think, but keep the words to myself.
“You know the drill,” I say instead. Nobody knows my Tuesday plans, not Callie, nor Chloe, our next-door neighbor and another friend of ours. They figured out I’m always missing on Tuesday evenings and dubbed them nights with my imaginary suitor or some shit like that. Who even uses the word suitor anymore? Still, I don’t bother correcting them.
“Will you ever tell us who he is?” she questions as we leave Bright Haven, waving goodbye to the kids on our way out. Bright Haven is a local community center that we both volunteer at. I tutor a few times a week while Callie leads an art class. I actually have my own past with the center since I, myself, was an attendee at the center in the New York area. So when I heard there was one open here, I decided to give it a look and sign up as a volunteer. The center saved my ass more than once when I was younger, since living with a single mom in a city like New York has never been especially easy, but we overcame it, and now I’m here, studying at one of the best colleges in the States.
“Not if I can help it,” I mutter quietly.
Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I unlock my old Ford and slide behind the wheel. From the corner of my eye, I catch Callie stiffening for a second before she coaches herself and gets in on the other side of the car.
At first I found it strange, but later on, Callie confessed that her parents died in a car accident in which she was the driver, and although the accident wasn’t her fault, she felt guilty because she is the only one who came out of it alive, although far from unscathed. She has a fair number of scars, starting with the ones covering the left side of her face, reminding her of what she’s been through. Not that she needs the reminder—that day still haunts her nightmares.
“But don’t you think it would be nice if we could double-date sometime? It would be fun.”
I roll my eyes at her. This isn’t our first rodeo. “Trust me when I say it wouldn’t.”
“How can you know?” She puffs a strand of hair that slipped her braid out of her face. “Seriously, Yas. You make me wonder, who is that guy, and why exactly are you unwilling to introduce him to us?”
“How do you even know it’s a he? Maybe it’s a she.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “Is it?”
“No, but that’s beside the point.”
“That’s exactly the point! There has to be something wrong if you’re not willing to introduce him to us.”
“Just because you’re happy and in love doesn’t mean we all have to be.” I sigh, tired of this discussion.
“I want my friends to be happy. Is that so bad?”
“No, but I’m happy the way I am. Besides, Mr. Tuesday doesn’t have anything to do with my love life.”