Page 10 of Caged
Oh, no.
No…
My mouth gapes open, frozen with both panic and horror. An obnoxiously big bouquet of what looks like three dozen blood red roses takes up the full span of the doorway. The sight in and of itself should be shocking – that many brilliant, bright red roses contrasting against the snow-white backdrop – but it pales in comparison to the face I see holding the bouquet.
His face is fuller than I remember, and it looks healthy rather than sickly and gaunt, like it was the last time I saw him. I quickly calculate how long it’s been.
Seven months.
Tattoos swirl up his neck, extending past his coat collar where they hadn’t been before. A silver piercing in his right eyebrow catches the light, and as I take him in, I see an almost indiscernible silver nose ring in his left nostril. I can tell by how his coat fits him that he fills it out, a far cry from seven months ago. What in the actual glow up is happening?
“I have a delivery for a Monroe Campbell,” he says with a cocky grin that makes me want to eat his face.
He takes a step toward me, his shoe crossing the threshold. I should take a step back. Hell, after the second semester of sophomore year and what I witnessed, I should run. But I am mesmerized by whatever version of Kieren stands before me, and I can’t will my body to move.
His hand wraps behind my neck, and before I realize what the hell is happening, he leans down and pulls my lips to his. I hold my breath, everyone holds their breath – the entire sorority behind me, the line of fifty frozen women in front of me. Time stops for all of us as his pillow-soft lips plant firmly against mine. The temperature might be barely above freezing outside, but it’s a furnace where I’m standing.
He pulls back, thank God. Thank God he doesn’t claim my mouth like a feral animal in front of all these women. I would be mortified.
His amused eyes search mine, flicking down to my mouth and then back up to hold my stunned gaze, and I swear to fuck I see those dark brown eyes of his twinkle.
“I brought you flowers, baby,” he says in a whisper that is both embarrassingly loud and softly intimate at the same time.
He straightens, grazing my lower lip with his thumb before passing me the bouquet. I wasn’t expecting flowers to weigh so much and nearly drop the whole thing once he lets go. I have to quickly grab hold with my other hand so the pristine petalsdon’t fall to the dirty, snow-wet ground. I can practically hear the gasps of horror at my near blunder.
He saunters past the line of women with his hands in his pockets while they shamelessly gawk at him. I can’t blame them. It’s not every day you witness such an over-the-top, romantic gesture from someone who looks like Kieren.
Remembering myself, I plaster a massive smile on my face, realizing it’s well past the start time for this round, and usher the awaiting women inside. A chorus of cheers surges to life as the caravan begins. I go through the motions, joining the cacophony of greetings, as I clutch the flowers between two hands.
Finally, once the women are inside, I duck into the kitchen. Our resident chef, Colleen, stands over a stove, stirring something that looks like it could be soup. Or the entrails of a small animal she found dead on the side of the road. You never know with her.
“Colleen, do you have a vase?” I ask, getting her attention.
“Ohhh,” she says in her raspy smoker’s voice as she admires the roses. “I sure do. You can just set those down on the table in front of you, and I’ll get them in some water.”
“Thanks Colleen,” I say, doing as she instructs.
“Better get yourself a band-aid,” she comments.
I give her a confused look. “What?”
She nods at my hands. “You’re bleeding.”
Two separate cuts, one on my right index finger and one on the palm of my left hand, ooze droplets of blood.
“Shit,” I curse, knowing I need to get back out to our living room as fast as possible to give my welcome speech.
“There are some in the first-aid kit behind you,” she points out. I hadn’t realized we had a first aid kit on the kitchen wall, but given the presence of knives and, well, Colleen, it makes sense. I grab a handful of paper towels to staunch the bleeding before rifling through the first-aid kit.
It all happened so fast. It didn’t even occur to me that the roses could have thorns.
4
GABI
Present Day
Thumping bass loud enough to rattle my teeth can be heard from the Uber as we pull up to Sigma. I climb out of the front seat, thanking the driver as I shut the car door.
