Beautiful Beings (9 page)

Men who potentially held the capacity to hurt me, break my heart and leave me bitter about love.

Never before had I received so many compliments, never had I felt as beautiful as in these past days, yet I felt lost in the flattery.  I was the strong, reliable girl who was more apt to bust a guy’s chops, not pucker up to kiss him; the tomboy who like to play rough, often to the point of intimidating guys.

But these three seemed far from intimidated.

Chapter 9

M
onday morning I arrived at school determined to do well.  My studies had suffered greatly due to the sudden move and catching up proved more difficult than I had expected.

At my locker, I shoved my backpack in then pulled the chemistry book out from the top shelf.  Along with the book came a small sheet of blue paper.

It was great seeing you this weekend.  I hope we can get together again soon.

I flipped the paper over looking for more, but that was it; no signature, no name, not even an initial.

Great, what are the chances? I ran into Asher, Moore and Braxton over the weekend, so who was the guy so eager to see me again?

I couldn’t waste too much time on it, so I shoved it into my pocket and slammed my locker shut.  My first class of the morning was clear on the other side of the school and I could make it in time if I hurried. 

But as I turned I hit something hard.  For a second, my defenses went up and I was prepared to battle.

“Watch out,” a familiar voice shouted.

I looked up, my brow already furrowed in frustration, my lips pressed tightly together, and my fist clenched.

“Cool it, Lux,” Asher said.  “Just kidding.”

“Oh,” I said with a dreadful imitation of a laugh.  “Yeah, I know… I mean, I knew it was you.  I was just kidding, too.”

“You were flying out of here like a bat out of hell.  What’s the rush?”

“The rush is chemistry… clear across the school chemistry.”

“I could sure teach you something about chemistry,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“What’s that?”  I wasn’t sure I’d understood him correctly and wanted him to repeat it.

“I said, I can show you a shortcut to getting to chemistry.”  He grinned and led me to the stairwell.

“I feel like I’m being buried in tons of homework.  No matter how much time I spend trying to catch up, I still end up being behind.”

“I know what you mean,” Asher said, descending into a narrow utility corridor. “It took quite a bit of adjustment when I came here. I was two months behind, fell further behind as I got situated in this town and then figured out that one missed day of school could spell further setbacks.”

I hurried behind him as he ascended another flight of stairs at the other end of the hall. “I’m already having such a hard time with chemistry. Too bad you're not in my class. I could have used a hand.  Come to think of it, I don’t have a single class with you.”

“Yeah, well can you blame the forces that be for keeping us apart.  Two rebels in the same class.  I think someone somewhere foresaw a bit of trouble if that were to happen.”

“I guess, but it sure would have been nice to study and catch up with you.”

On the landing he stopped and turned to me.  “That would’ve been really cool. You and me together… I like the sound of that.” He cocked his head to one side, his examining gaze drifting from my eyes to my lips and back again. “You know, no one here has interested me enough to even think of a
together
, but you…”

I giggled as he bit his lower lip and repeatedly arched his brows in mock hunger.

“Stop being so silly.” I slapped his arm playfully and continued up the steps.

“Hey,” he said, coming up after me.  “You are, after all, literally the girl of my dreams.”  He grabbed my elbow and guided me to the right as I veered off to the left.  “This way.”

“Have you had anymore of those dreams?” I asked.  “Sometimes the enigma of one dream is answered in another.”

“How convenient, but no.  I’ve had more of the same dream; same enigma; same lack of answers.  I was kind of hoping you’d solve the puzzle.  Just getting to know you might shed some light on it.”

“Oh,” I said, with feigned chagrin. “That’s why you're interested in getting to know me.”

“No, seriously? You're hot and I don’t need to go looking for excuses for wanting to be with you, but…”

“But?”

“These dreams are driving me nuts. They don’t make sense, being about you doesn’t make sense. And now, here you are, like by some cosmic kizbit, design. The real you, with a voice, a funky attitude and a hot bod.”

I pushed him playfully, and he grinned wider.

Arriving at my class with minutes to spare, I hugged my book to my chest and leaned my shoulder against the doorjamb.  “Look at us, a couple of rebels, huh.  You're the bad boy everyone’s afraid of and I’m the rough girl with an attitude few dare get close to, but what are we really?  Just a couple of lost kids trying to understand their role in life.  Just trying to get by without getting too hurt.  I bet there are a lot of times we’re a lot more scared than every other kid here.”

He gazed at the floor a long moment before meeting my gaze. “I guess we’re even more alike than I thought.” With the gentle brush of his finger along my arm, he turned and walked away.

Staring at his back as he walked away, I inhaled deeply, sensing something so important…a connection of understanding between us.  We were very much alike.

“Are you coming in or are you going to block the room for the length of the class?” Mr. Monaghan bellowed from behind his desk.

Everyone snickered and stared as I walked in, the girls with daggers in their eyes, the guys with curiosity and lust. The only friendly face in the room was Braxton, the seat in front of him empty and waiting for me.

His gaze swept over me, taking in every detail.  “You know, you sure looked hot when you first arrived here with that leather miniskirt and white shirt, but, dang, you know how to rock a school uniform.”

“Thanks, I think I need a pick me up.”

“St. James too rough for you?”

“The homework certainly is.  I don’t think I’ll ever get out from under the mountain of homework I have.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.  Why don’t you let me have a look at where you stand in your classes and I’ll see where I can lend a hand. I share most of your classes anyway, so I know where you should be.”

I leaned in to take a good whiff at him.

“What are you doing?” he asked with an unsure chuckle.

“I smell an ulterior motive.”

“If your parents are anything like mine were, they sent you here so you’d get the best education you could get.  And remember, my uncle has a vested interest in keeping your father happy.  So if I help you, you get better grades, your parents are pleased and my uncle is happy.  Everyone wins.”

Surprised by the sense of disappointment that suddenly crowded out all other emotions, I managed to hide my feelings.  We were friends, after all.  There was really no reason for him to have ulterior motives, nor any reason for me to be disappointed.

“I win too, of course.”

I could feel the bright and silly grin on my face before I could keep it from getting there.

“Let’s start tonight,” he whispered as Mr. Monaghan cleared his throat to begin the class.

By the end of the afternoon I was mentally drained and wondered how much studying I would actually get done.

“Need a hand hauling the library you call your locker,” Brax said as he came up behind me.

My locker was a little over-stuffed. “You’d think every teacher thought they were the only one. I got this ten pounder for math and look at this book,” I said as I pulled it out.  “It’s a veritable cinder block. No wonder why kids our age are having back problems.”

I shoved the cinder block into my back pack and carefully zipped it up, all the while praying the seams didn’t bust. Despite the leather school bag already slung over one shoulder, Braxton quickly reached down to pick it up.

“You okay with all that?” I asked

He cocked a brow of indignation and reached into my locker to take the small canvas bag that housed my science and history books.  “Eyaw,” he whinnied as he walked off.

Laughing behind my hand, I closed my locker and hurried after him. “I should probably tell my parents I won’t be home for dinner.”

Shifting the weight of his load, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over.

Oblivious to how the instrument worked, I stared at the screen a moment. 

Braxton smiled, a warm smile that lacked all mockery or condescension.  “Here, what’s your number?”

There was something paternal in his manner, in the way he took care of me.  He punched in the number I gave him and handed me the phone again.

After leaving a brief message to my parents, I returned the phone to him, our fingers brushing together ever so slightly. We’d reached his car, a beautiful black Escalade.

“Quite a chariot for a mule,” I teased.

He opened my door, waited until I was comfortably seated in the cushy leather seat before going to the back to dump his weighty load.

“Are you always such a gentleman?” I asked when he got in.

“My father believed very much in treating women right, while my mother balanced that by reminding me that women were strong and capable of much more than men wanted to believe.  Between them, I hope I have a healthy view of man/woman relations. There’s nothing wrong with being a gentleman, especially if it gets you a chance to be with a girl like you.” 

He drove off, his driving fluid and soothing. No quick passing, bumper hugging or tire screeching around curves as so many young men were apt to enjoy.  He patiently waited at a corner as a young mother crossed the street pushing a baby carriage and holding the hand of a young child, and when another young man in a red Honda Civic rudely cut him off, he didn’t even furrow his brow, but simply relaxed the accelerator, letting the hot head go his merry way.

The maturity with which he carried himself impressed me, perhaps even surpassing the great maturity I prided myself with.  No doubt I would have honked my fury at the Civic.

Once inside the raven gate, he pulled up in front of the imposing home and lugged out our many bags, then guided me through the mansion, straight to the back terrace.  The house, now silent and bereft of any life, left me chilled and uncomfortable, and all the more eager to reach the sunny view with the eye-pleasing view.

“Not quite the same atmosphere as last night,” Brax commented quietly.

“Is it always like this?” I whispered with the fear of disturbing some unseen entity.

“Pretty much.” He set the books down on the teak table.

“I thought you had a lot of friends at St. James.”  I settled into the chair that offered a glimpse of the Golden Gate.

“Not so much friends as acquaintances.  Like so many at the school, I got trapped into a clique, the obscenely rich clique. I tried hanging out with kids who… well, who weren’t as rich, but they didn’t want anything to do with me, as though I had the plague or something. I get along with everyone but I’m not really that close to anyone in particular. I think being the kid whose parents disappeared so mysteriously kinda makes other kids wary of me. The Hatchett twins are the only ones who’ve had that kind of stigma, too, despite being so obscenely rich.”

“The plague,” I repeated with a sarcastic arch of my brow.  “Who knew being rich could prove so problematic.”  I’d watched my parents struggle to make house payments, juggle grocery bills with electric bills, even buy me second hand clothes when Mom was between jobs. I couldn’t muster up much empathy for the boy who had it so easy.

Braxton’s glare told me he didn’t see it that way.  He threw himself into the chair beside me and clasped his hands together over his belly.

“Sorry, Brax, but both my parents work their butts off in order to be able to pay for a modest house that could comfortably sit in your living room.  They can only afford payments on one car. My Mom doesn’t go to work in an Escalade, she takes public transit. I don’t come home to an impossible view of the bay, I’m lucky if I can glimpse it over the neighboring rooftops.”

“At least you have both your parents to come home to.” Solemn and pain ridden, his statement hung in the air, silencing me.

I reached out to thread my fingers between his, silently apologizing for being so insensitive. “I’m sorry, Brax, I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. I guess from the outside you look like you have the perfect life…”

“Nobody seems to believe it when they hear that money doesn’t buy happiness. They all think that if you throw enough money into a problem, everything will be all right.  Well, it’s not all right.”

I wanted to reach out to him, to caress the sad line of his lips away, but I simply squeezed his hand then sat back.

“Being the new girl at school I thought you’d understand; understand what it’s like to have people make unjust judgments about you. How do you feel knowing people think you're something you're not?”