Page 33 of Midnight Enemy

I take a quick shower because I’m hot and sweaty, and put on a red summer dress and sandals. Then I take it off and pull on jeans and a tee. Take them off. Put the dress on again. I brush my hair. Braid it severely. Then unravel it, brush it again, and scowl at myself in themirror. I don’t know why I’m bothering. It’s not like either of us is interested in the other in that way.

That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t look nice though. I slot a red freesia above my ear, then slick on some red lip gloss. Trying to block out the memory of the look in his eyes when he stared into mine, I realize it’s 2:55, curse under my breath, and head out of the door.

It’s a blustery March day. The sun was hot earlier, but the clouds are moving quickly now, and the sky is turning a deep gray. As I walk up the hill, I begin to wonder whether I should have brought an umbrella, but I can’t be bothered to go back.

By the time I get to the Waiora, it’s nearly ten past three. As soon as I exit the bush, I see a guy on the other side of the pool, sitting in the gazebo there, reading on his phone. For a moment I don’t recognize him. He’s wearing dark jeans, a faded gray T-shirt, and Converses, his hair is a little ruffled, and he looks completely different from the suave, sophisticated man in his suit. But then he looks up and sees me, and he stands, pockets his phone, and waves before walking up the bank to the top of the waterfall.

I do the same, heart racing, and we pause at the top, facing each other across the stones. A drop of rain falls on my cheek, then another.

“Hey,” he calls, and he lifts a hand and beckons to me. “Come over this side and we’ll talk in the gazebo—I think it’s going to rain.”

For some reason, the way he beckons to me irritates me, as if I’m a dog. I bet everyone in his life does his bidding without question. Well, I don’t work for him, and I’m not going to do what he says.

“No,” I snap, “you come over this side.”

He lowers his hand and looks up at the sky. More droplets land on my face. Unfortunately, I think he’s right, but now if I go over I’m letting him win, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen.

He looks back at me. “Please, come on. It’s the only shelter out here.”

“I don’t mind getting wet.” I brush a hand over my cheek to remove the drops.

He puts his hands on his hips. “Scarlett…”

I shake my head.

He runs his tongue across his top teeth, then starts traversing the stepping stones. I glare at him, hoping he slips and falls, but I know that despite us not agreeing on a sale yet, he’s had someone up heresecuring some of the stones, and sure enough he strides out sure-footed and swift.

It’s starting to rain properly, and I’m beginning to regret my decision, but it’s too late now. I watch him approach, impressed with how elegantly he moves, like the big cat I’ve compared him to before. The sleeves of his tee stretch tightly across his biceps, making me wonder if he works out. Surely they’re not natural. Would they give under pressure, like a firm cushion, or would they feel solid, like carved wood?

He covers the last few stones and jumps onto the bank next to me. His light-gray tee is now covered in dark blotches from the rain, and his hair is turning spiky.

“I should have brought an umbrella,” I begin to say as he walks up to me, but my words fade away as I realize he’s not stopping. He closes the distance between us, bends quickly, and hoists me up and over his shoulder.

I squeal loudly and kick my legs, but he wraps one arm tightly across the back of my thighs, turns, and heads back over the stepping stones. Upside down, I whack him on the backside, but he just says, “Are you trying to turn me on?”

“Orson!”

“Serves you right for not behaving.”

I reel off a string of curses.

“Language,” he says. “I didn’t know you Peaceful Percys knew words like that.”

“Fuck off.”

He’s halfway back by now, and he stops and shifts my weight on his shoulder. “Stop wriggling or I’ll drop you.”

I do, because I don’t want to be submerged again and end up falling off the waterfall, but that doesn’t stop me giving him another earful as he continues.

He covers the last few stones onto the bank, then lowers me down. As he straightens, he rolls his shoulder.

“I hope it’s really painful,” I snap, tugging my dress down where it’s risen up. It’s really raining now, and we’re quickly getting soaked.

“Don’t worry,” he replies. “Your wish is granted. Now, will you come down to the gazebo?”

“Will you stop bossing me about?”

He closes his eyes and massages his temples with a hand for a moment, and I remember that he also had a concussion. Guilt twinges inside me, at the same time that the heavens really open, and rain begins to fall in torrents. “All right,” I concede.

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