Page 13 of Desert Heat

“Neanderthal,” I breathe low as several students look over, annoyed we are distracting them from their copious note taking. “I think it’s stupid to record lectures when you’ll have to just sit and watch them again to learn anything. Note taking is still the way to go.”

He ignores me, yawns and stretches his free hand. “I have learning disabilities. I can’t type fast or spell.” He finally turns to look me in the face and my breath stops as my brain short circuits.

His eyes are as dark as a starless desert sky. One ebony lock had fallen across his tanned forehead.

He’s male perfection.

A Greek God sent from the past just to piss me off with his gorgeousness. He’s the opposite of the bearded, tatted up types from back home. He’s fucking perfect and I feel like such a bitch for calling him out by having assumptions.

With that class is over and I keep staring stunned as he turns and leaves not even looking back once.

Burned.

He burned me and the taste in my mouth is dry ash.

“Who is that?” A girl from the next row asks her friend.

“Hunter Northport. He’s pledging Beta Pi. I saw him at the party Sunday night. He’s broody as fuck. Every girl tried something with him… he just sat by the fire, drinking tequila straight while ignoring them all.”

The other girls sighed while I finally snapped out of it to slide my MacBook into its protective carrying case.

I needed coffee.

The strong, hot, Mexican blend from home.

The kind I couldn’t find once I drove north of Florida on I-95. I should’ve brought some with me, but I was in too much of a daze to think about it.

“I haven’t seen him in class before…” The girls are still chattering about Hunter as I roll my eyes behind them.

“He had a death in his family, so he arrived on campus late.”

“Ohhh, the poor thing…”

The group puts hands over their hearts. Hunter Northport just became elevated even more in their minds.

A broody, dark hero in pain that each daydreamed their soft touch could heal.

Me?

I didn’t want to ease his pain or think I am some fucking good girl with soft hands and honey words to heal his bruised soul.

I’m the anti.

The villainess with dark hair and nails that’ll rip your back to shreds.

No.

I’m not a healer.

I’m the girl who’ll just fuck you up even more.

The guys on campus already sense that about me. Makes them want me even more. I don’t throw myself at any of them.

If anything, I ice them all out.

The few parties I’ve gone to I drank for free, smoked a joint and rebuffed the captain of the football team before turning on my high-heeled leather boots walking out.

I heard the boy’s made bets on who could be the first to make out with me. I yelled over my shoulder that I was more into women.

---