Page 6 of Little Paper Games
The last few weeks of school had gone so well, I was tempted to get someone to pinch me for a reality check. My hard work in preparing had paid off in spades. Only a few weeks in and already Professor Garcia was giving me ample opportunity to teach and, more importantly, to learn. He’d been discussing different law texts and going through new policies that had my head spinning with possibilities. I felt like a sponge, soaking up every tidbit the man could give me.
He and I had connected that first day we met. Oddly enough, over learning disabilities. Turns out, Professor Garcia, or Danton as he’d asked me to call him, went through most of his life with the same issues I had. He had years on me and had perfected a lot of techniques for comprehension and aptitude while learning and studying. It’s why he became a professor and didn’t stick with law full time.
Quickly, things were coming into place for me. The house looked perfect. Everything in its rightful place. The decor had been picked out well, thanks to the lady at the furniture store and my father helping me pick the right pieces. My father was more into interior decorating than any woman I had ever met, and I loved that about him.
It was obvious the saleswoman was hoping to do much more than pick out decor by the end of the conversation, but when my dad showed up, all of that flew out of the window. Plus, I didn’t want anything to do with that. I was focused on the mission at hand. There had been plenty of time for that in my early college days, and there would be plenty of time for it again. I just wanted to make sure I was settled here first. Then, sure, bring on the parade of women and one-night stands. Why not?
I made my way home that night, taking the scenic route by the library and picking up a book that was purely for fun instead of the textbooks and law reviews I’d been pouring over for weeks. I needed a little break. Perhaps I would invite someone over. The guys could come by.
I pushed that thought away as soon as it entered my head. In the month since I’d been back, it had become blatantly apparent that my buddies from high school effectively were still in high school. They had aged, yes, but they were still stuck in this little town with the same friends, the same cars, some of them even living in the same house.
I didn’t look down on them, honestly, I didn’t. But we were in two very different stages of life. It made hanging out with them difficult.
Tonight, I didn’t want difficult. Tonight, I wanted to unwind. I wanted to let the stress and the drive I worked to meticulously maintain melt away into relaxation. I should have booked myself a massage. Now that sounded like a good time.
A good book, the bottle of wine I’d been saving for a while now, and some quiet music sounded like the exact night I wanted to have. The light was on at Kenna’s when I arrived home, but all seemed quiet. Good. Perfect.
I was flipping through the pages of the fantasy-based romance novel when I heard voices rising in volume, coming from Kenna’s. Yes, I read romance novels. I had learned a ton from them and ended up really fascinated with the paranormal stories I’d been able to find.
“You never listen!” a decidedly male voice half yelled. It was coming from the porch.
“Keep it down, Craig, please.” That was definitely Kenna.
“Case and point! Never listening to what I have to say.”
“Yes, I do! I just don’t want to have this conversation right now or right here,” Kenna almost hissed. I could barely hear her voice. Which didn’t stop me, but instead made me move closer to the door for a better listen. They were talking quieter, but I could still make out bits and pieces.
“Please stop.”
“Fucking bitch.”
“Just leave.”
“Frigid ice queen.”
“Enough, Craig.”
Yeah, I’d heard about all I needed to hear. I shrugged on my coat, grabbed the cup of tea I’d made in lieu of a glass of wine and made my way onto the porch. Just in time to see Kenna’s eyes ringed in red from crying. Just in time to see this Craig kid put a hand on either edge of the door frame and lean in, effectively taking up her space in a very threatening move. The fuck was wrong with this asshole?
“Craig, please,” Kenna whispered, her eyes lowered. She’d obviously seen me walk out onto the front porch. Even from this distance, I could make out the rosy, pink hue to her cheekbones. She was embarrassed.
“Baby, just let me in,” the sleazebag urged.
“I believe the lady asked you to shove the fuck off. Though she said it far more politely than I did. You’ll find I’m not much of a polite man in these situations,” I admitted, my eyes narrowing and focusing all my negative emotions on this one man.
“Shove off, pretty boy. This isn’t your fight,” the dumbass Craig spat at me. Unwise move.
“Let me rephrase, then. Get the fuck off my property.” I stepped towards him, letting my tall frame dwarf him in intimidation. Being six foot three inches had its advantages some days.
“Good thing I’m not onyourproperty, then. I’m talking to Mac here,” the idiot sneered at me.
“My name isn’t Mac. Now, just go, Craig.” Kenna was pleading with him, wrapping her robe tightly around her frame. She looked scared. That was not okay with me.
“I own this property, motherfucker, and if you do not vacate the premises, I will have no other option but to call the cops. So, the choice is yours,” I pressed further.
“You —”
“Nope. No more talking. Choose. Leave now or be forcibly removed. Which will it be?” I watched as the little weasel of a man scoffed, turning away from Kenna, and marching down the steps.
