I’m about to grab the smoothie I brought with me when a commotion from outside catches my attention.
Which is weird. Besides me, Cecily, and a few others, we barely get any volunteers. If ever. Dr. Stephanie and the two other technicians don’t come out much either.
Hearing noises or conversations is rare.
Unless something happened to one of the animals?
I dash out of the small office and head to the patio leading outside.
Bubbling energy reaches me in waves as the two technicians, Harry and Zoey, and one of the volunteers, Sandy, an American who studies at my brother’s university, stand there with their noses practically glued to the glass.
I inch closer to them and stop when I find the scene that’s put them in a state of spellbound shock.
Outside, Creighton has removed his shirt and is lifting two heavy bags of pet food at a time.
His abs ripple with the effort and sweat glistens over honed muscles. A spider tattoo covers his left side, bleeding into the Adonis-shaped lines on his abs. Usually, spiders would look gruesome, but on him, it’s…mysterious, camouflaging something a lot deeper.
His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing defined V-lines that go down…
Down…
I force my gaze up as Sandy whistles. “If I’d known he’d volunteer, I would’ve come more often. Look at those lickable abs.”
“I know he’s a few years younger than me,” Harry says in a British accent. “But I’d gladly choke on his cock.”
“He looks like he has big dick energy.” Zoey fans herself. “I’d be open to backdoor action any day.”
“You wish, girl.” Sandy nudges her shoulder with hers. “We don’t study at the same college, but I go to watch him fight in the underground ring all the time. He’s like at the top of the food chain. Right under Jesus.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” No clue how I sound detached when a strange fire rattles my bones. “He’s cold, indifferent, has the personality of the North and South Pole combined, and wouldn’t talk more than two sentences, even if the queen personally conversed with him.”
The three of them turn in my direction and Harry rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t need to talk if he has the D. Fucking speaks louder than words, Anni.”
“He’s straight, Harry.” I think.
“So? Let a guy have his crush. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“Except you keep crushing on straight guys and getting your heart broken, poor lad.” Zoey laughs.
He flips her off and they all focus back on Creighton, whose abs flex as he carries another bag.
The truck is almost empty.
No shit. Did he actually carry all of those bags on his own? I only meant for him to help with some. I didn’t think he'd do it all himself.
A few moments later, he emerges from the building just as the sun peeks from between the clouds.
He uses his hand as a shield and stares up, one of his eyes half closed, the other becoming a glittering, liquid blue.
“Let’s go give him something to drink!” Zoey exclaims. “I reckon he’s thirsty from all that lifting.”
“Not as much as I am.” Sandy laughs.
“I’ll give him my energy drink.” Harry winks and the girls go back to talking about Creighton’s dick.
I slowly slip from their circle, the whole scene leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
It’s not a secret that Creighton is popular without even trying. Ava told me that’s been the case ever since they were kids. Girls have flocked to his silent personality and stellar looks since elementary school.
That’s me. I’m girls. Girls is me.
Or were me. I’m totally over him now.
Totally.
I work for some time, then I make sure the animals have their food. After I kiss Tiger goodbye, I leave the shelter.
The distance to campus is about ten minutes by car, but I prefer to walk the half hour and clear my head.
It helps that the seaside is on the way and I can get lost in its beauty. It’s violent today, considering how the giant waves crash against the rocks.
I try not to think about the scene I left back at the shelter, but it keeps niggling at the edge of my consciousness.
So I pull out my AirPods and put on Tchaikovsky’s third symphony on the highest volume, hoping it’ll be able to drown out the restlessness.
Ten minutes later, I feel more balanced. No surprise there. Only my Tchaikovsky is able to do that.
A presence appears behind me and warmth radiates off my back. I whirl around, my breath catching when my eyes clash with Creighton’s chest—that’s covered with a shirt, thank Tchaikovsky.
I pull out an AirPod and breathe harshly. “You scared me.”
“You didn’t wait so we could go back to campus together.” His low, rich voice vibrates through me as he falls in step beside me.
“We never said we’d go back together.”
“Why else would I ask you what you were doing?”
“I don’t know. Making conversation?”
“I don’t talk without purpose.”
Oh, so that’s what this is all about? I mean, yeah, he doesn’t talk, no matter how much I try to push him, but maybe that’s really because he finds no purpose in speaking for the sake of speaking.
“There was a purpose behind all those questions?”
He nods, his dark lashes lowering like a prison against ocean eyes.
“And what was it?” I pull out my second AirPod and place them back in their case, then throw them in my bag.
“Don’t ask Bran to be your fake boyfriend.”
My hand pauses on the zipper before I slowly close it, and my steps falter until I fall behind. My face feels frozen as I stare up at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, I did. Which brings on the question: what makes you think you have the right to tell me what to do?”
He comes to an abrupt halt and I crash against him before I jump back. When he spins around and stares down at me, his face has tightened and his hand is in his pocket again.
As if he’s stopping it from doing something.
What, I don’t know.
“I won’t repeat myself another time.”
My breath catches. Just how the hell does he manage to pack so much punch and dominance behind his words?
“Seriously, what do you want from me, Creighton? You pushed me away, didn’t you?”
“And you pushed back.”
“What?” When he remains silent, I insist, “I did no such thing. I put distance between us as you so eloquently instructed. I don’t even text you anymore. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work.”
“This?”
“Scaring me away, then talking to me and volunteering at the shelter I go to. Is this like a game of push and pull or something?”
“Were you scared away?”
“Wasn’t I supposed to be?”
“You were, but I’m surprised it took that little to scare you.”
“Yeah, well, pain frightens me.”
His eyes shine with something similar to…excitement.
And that right there scares the bejesus out of me. It’s not normal excitement like the type I get whenever I go shopping or when I practice ballet. It’s nothing that innocent or harmless.