Page 11 of Pills and Potions: Kase
That made her glance up. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say somethin’ smart, then closed again. She never challenged me. Matter of fact, she never challenged nobody. Just took shit on the chin.
“Don’t take it personal,” I added with a smirk, my eyes dropping to the curve of her thighs under that skirt. “At least you don’t need to be attractive for coordination to be a human calculator.”
She raised a brow. “So… I’m useful but not cute?”
I grinned. “I ain’t say all that. I mean, you got a lil something under all that nerd shit. It's just… buried under cardigans and library hours.”
Her lips twisted like she didn’t know if she was flattered or offended. “Wow. Thank you… I guess.”
I took a slow sip of my scotch and tilted my head. “You always thank people after they insult you?”
She shrugged. “I’m just here to help with your books. Not flirt.”
I leaned forward, setting the glass down. “Who said I was flirtin’? I talk slick to everybody.”
She blushed and started flipping papers faster.
“You gettin’ nervous, Wheels?”
“No.”
“Lyin’ ass.”
“I’m not lying.”
I smiled, wide and slow. “That’s cute. You always this jumpy around men with money and tattoos, or just me?”
She went quiet again. Tried to pretend like the receipts suddenly got real interesting.
I let the silence stretch before adding, “Relax. If I was tryna smash, you’d already know.”
She looked up at me slow, like she was weighin’ whether to play along or run. Her lips parted just a little, but no words came. Just that wide-eyed stare behind them, thick-ass glasses. And I stared right back. Not blinkin’. Not movin’. Just takin’ her in. The way that skirt hugged her thighs. How that one loose button teased a peek at skin she probably didn’t even mean to show. My jaw flexed as she sat there fidgetin’ with the corner of a receipt, actin’ like she didn’t feel the weight of my eyes on her. But she did. I could tell. Her breath hitched. Her neck flushed. She kept her legs crossed, tighter now, like she was tryna block a thought before it reached her face. And me? I didn’t say shit. I just watched her, too long, too hard, like I was tryna figure out why the hell I couldn’t look away.
It might’ve been the scotch talkin’, or maybe it was just the way her lips parted like they had questions they were too scared to ask, but I stood up anyway. Moved toward her slow, like I was huntin’ without even meanin’ to. Glass still in my hand. I stopped right in front of her, raised it to her mouth like I was offerin’ more than liquor.
She leaned back just a little, eyes locked on mine. “I don’t drink,” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “You know that.”
“Why not?” I asked, brow cocked. “What—you think I’m tryna slip somethin’ in it?”
She shook her head quickly. “No. I just think it’s stupid. Makes people say things they don’t mean… or worse, do things they don’t remember.”
I chuckled, low and deep. “Nah, see, liquor don’t lie. They say it makes a drunk man speak his truth.”
Her eyes narrowed behind them thick-ass glasses. “So, if you got me drunk, I’d start tellin’ my truth?”
I smirked, slow and cocky. “Maybe... or I might end up tellin’ you my deep, hidden truths.”
She hesitated, eyes still locked on mine. “What truth you want from me?”
I brought the glass back to my lips, then looked over the rim and said real calm, real low,“Naw, I am asking the questions. What truth you wanna know about me?”
There was a pause in my chest, and I didn’t let it show. I said it like a joke, but it landed different and heavy. She tilted her head, and I could tell she was tryin’ to read past the grin.
“It’s a lot of things... but you probably couldn’t handle it,” she said, fiddlin’ with the edge of her skirt.
I let out a quiet laugh, rough at the edges. “Try me.”
She blinked fast, flustered again, like she wasn’t used to this version of me. Then she stood up too quick, damn near knockin’ the pen cup to the floor.
