Page 18 of Wicked Scorn
“Good for you,” I mutter, tossing my towel in the bin and grabbing my wallet and keys out of my locker. I’m just outhere, losing my shit over a girl who can’t stand the sight of me.
But damn it, I need answers. I’m not playing this game with her. The only games I play are the ones I can control.
“Good luck, man,” Lincoln says, a hint of real support breaking through his usual sarcasm.
“Thanks,” I reply, the words dry as dust in my mouth. I don’t wait for another word from any of my brothers. I stride out of the room and into the hallway leading to the middle of campus. These damn cobblestones echo as my sneakers beat against them. Old world charm or whatever bullshit SCU spews about why we still look like we belong in an old period movie.
“Jeremiah!” someone calls, but I ignore it. My pace quickens until I reach the looming stairs that will take me up to the library. The last few days of following little Ashford around have shown me that she frequents the library more than any other place on campus except for her dorm room. I know she’ll be here.
I push open the library doors, the cool air rushing to meet me. The scent of old books and worn leather greets me. Bookshelves tower around me, hiding secrets and knowledge. There’s something oddly comforting about history. Doomed to repeat it, so it’s like you already have a vague idea of what happens.
I find her tucked into a corner, the girl who’s been running circles in my head, turning every thought to an obsession. Oakley’s perched at a table like some kind of fairy, her golden hair spilling over the pages. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t even twitch; doesn’t even realize she’s like prey caught by a predator.
I position myself behind a nearby shelf, pretending tobrowse books while stealing glances at her. Her fingers trace the lines of text, her eyes narrowing in concentration. God, she’s beautiful. And infuriating. And everything in between.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Her lips part slightly as she reads, a small crease forming between her brows.
My fingers trail over book spines, feigning interest in titles I couldn’t give a damn about.
There’s something so damn intoxicating about watching her when she’s not watching back. Lurking.
The way she tucks a stray lock behind her ear, the concentration, the fucking pleated sundress and cardigan she has on. The goddamn Esperanza wedges that I still remember the fucking name of because she nagged on and on about how they were her favorite type of shoe to wear. It’s a fucking scrapbook of innocent gestures that have no right to turn me on. But they do. They really fucking do.
My gaze slides over her form again, taking in the rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her breast where it meets the edge of the table. She shifts in her seat, and the movement sends a surge of heat straight through me. She looks so small, how easy it would be to cocoon her and swallow her whole.
I need to chill the fuck out. A low chuckle escapes me, scratching at my throat. There’s humor there, dark and twisted. She’s fucking driving me insane, and insanity is reserved for my unhinged brother. Maybe I’m more like Penn than I care to admit.
For now, I’m content to watch, to wait, to let the tension build until it’s ripe and ready to burst. Because when it does, when I finally get my hands on her...God, the things I’ll do to make her mine.
Fuck. That’s not the plan. Find out why she’s here and then lock her up in a damn ivory tower. I need to keep my dickin my pants and my hands off her. Tongue also because I just know the first taste of her I get will be my ruin.
As if sensing my thoughts, she shifts in her seat, a subtle change in her demeanor. Her fingers tap the table lightly, a sign of unease. Something’s bothering her. Something big. Just let me in bunny and whatever is bothering you, I’ll slay. No bigger monster than me when it comes to you.
I lean back against the bookshelf, feeling the hard spines press into my back, grounding me and keeping me from doing something stupid like Penn or Lincoln.
“Excuse me, do you know where I can find the history section?” someone asks, disrupting my thoughts. I snap my head in their direction, trying not to let my irritation show.
“Uh, sure,” I reply, forcing a smile. I don’t want to be memorable right now. I point off in a random direction. I don’t care where they go as long as it’s away from me. “It’s just down that way.” As they walk off, I return my focus to Oakley, but she’s gotten up and disappeared from her table. Shit. I need to find her, to see her up close without her knowing I’m there.
It doesn’t take long for me to relocate her—she’s moved deeper into the library, running her fingers along the rows of books as if they hold the secrets to the universe. I can’t help but imagine those fingers on me, tracing patterns across my skin, as we ride.
She sighs, her breath fogging up the glass of the display case in front of her.“The tragedy of love that can never be.”
She doesn’t hear me just behind her. She’s too wrapped up in her own thoughts, lost in the story that unfolds within the pages of the book she looks at so fondly. What fucking book has her so enamored?
And that’s how I want her—completely unaware of mypresence, allowing me to watch her without interruption. It’s a dangerous game, but one I can’t seem to resist. I refuse to admit it to my brothers, but they are right. I’m fucking obsessed with her. How could I not be? She’s the one good and pure thing I had in my life.
My mother is non-existent. Vanished as soon as she gave me up to dear old dad. When I was old enough, I looked for her, thinking my dad had her killed. I was ready to kill him until I found her in some hole in the wall town, living a normal life with a truck driver husband and two kids. She was alive and well, just didn’t give a single fuck about me.
My father is a devil incarnate and my brothers and I are made wholly in his image just as he intended. We’ll never escape that. It’s been burned into our skin, leeched into our bones, and invaded every molecule of our DNA. We’re the monsters he wanted us to be, all of us born and bred just how he designed.
I lean in just a bit further, putting my nose right into her hair and inhaling as quietly as possible. Pure fucking sunshine greets me and soothes the ache welling in my chest at the thought of my fucked-up life.
“Hey Oakley! Did you decide if you could take my shift on Thursday? I have a session I just can’t miss.” I hear someone ask and I have just enough time to back away and disappear back into the stack of books as my dream girl spins around and heads to the other girl suddenly appearing.
Fuck, that was a close call, and I really don’t need to get caught stalking someone in the library and then clean up the fucking mess that creates.
Chapter 7
