Hawk: A Stepbrother Romance Part 45

"I can't, Victor. I'm not supposed to even talk to you."

He leaned out the window a little. "Come on."

"Are you going to speed?"

"No way. I promise to obey all traffic controls and speed limits." He raised his hand in an I-swear gesture.

I took a deep breath, then walked around and got in the car. True to his word, Victor rumbled gradually down the block, and took the turn slowly.

It was a bit quieter inside the car.

"What are you even doing here?"

"What? Oh, right, I'm a student here."

"You?"

"I transferred."

"What?"

He fished in his pocket and pulled out a student identification card just like mine, with his smiling face on it. I looked over at him and tugged on my seat belt. I noticed he wasn't bothering to wear his.

"You should eat. You eat anything today?"

I shook my head.

"Okay, burger time, then."

I tugged at my jeans, trying to gather the material in my hands. I ended up pitching forward with my arms folded over my chest.

He didn't ask me any questions. I watched out the window as he drove. At the restaurant, Victor opened my door for me and took my hand to pull me to my feet. He made a show of it, flexing his muscles. I really didn't need his help. He walked close beside me, opened the doors for me. I walked up to the counter with him.

I had no idea what to get. I'd never eaten at one of these before.

"Um," I said. "I don't know what to..."

Victor stepped up to the counter. "Two double quarter pounders with cheese, a quarter pounder with cheese, a large french fries, a strawberry milkshake," he glanced at me, "and two large sodas."

He paid, too, and carried the tray. I sat down at the table he chose and gingerly unwrapped my cheeseburger, feeling the grease on my fingers. I lifted the bun-lid and frowned at the gunk on top, took a napkin and swept it off.

"I didn't know you like them plain. Sorry."

"I've never had one." I pointed at the pile of lettuce and tomato. "I just don't want that."

"Works for me," he said, and did the same thing to his. He ate one of his sandwiches so fast it was almost unnerving to watch. I'd filled my cup with orange soda. I like oranges. It was so sweet.

He put the milk shake up in front of me. "This is for you."

"It is?"

He gave me a look.

I shrugged and took a pull on the straw. It was too sweet, too.

The burger was better than I thought it would be. I like having a little of the... stuff on it. The milk shake wasn't bad, either.

"You've seriously never eaten here before?"

"I've never had occasion to."

"I mean at any of the chain stores."

"Victor," I said.

"Vic," he corrected.

"Vic. What do you want from me?"

He gave me an enigmatic smile and a shrug. "You really don't know, do you?"

Vic reached over and set his hand on mine.

I tensed.

"Oh. Oh."

"You're not good with signals, are you?"

I shook my head.

He sighed.

My face reddened. I could feel it. He smiled, not so much for me as at me, his eyes darting all over my face and neck. I pulled my hand back and folded both together in my lap.

"I can't. I'm your sister."

He snorted. "Yeah, for like a month and a half."

"I already heard people commenting about us dancing at the wedding. Then there was the garter thing."

He leaned on his hand. "f.u.c.k them."

I flinched.

"Eve, do you like me? I think you like me. I like you."

"I think I do. I don't... I don't know. I don't know what to do," my voice cracked. "I don't know how to talk to anybody or what to do or what to say or..." I trailed off. "I can't. I can't do it. If Father finds out..."

"If he puts his hands on you I'll break his legs."

I jerked back and looked at him. "He's my father."

"Yeah. He is. My father never hit me. He never hit my mom either. He could have, if he wanted. He was a big guy. He taught me a lot."

"My father taught me a lot," I said.

"I can see that. My father taught me a man must have a code."

"A code?"

"Yeah."

I swallowed, took a big gulp of milkshake and dabbed at my lips with a napkin.

"I just want you to give me a chance. I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm not going to lock you in a tower and 'ravish' you like in one of those books you read."

My mouth fell open.

"My mom told me."

Something about that was funny enough for me to start laughing.

"People have told me things about you."

"Such as?"

I started wringing my fingers.

"You sleep with lots of girls. You don't really care about me, I'd just be another..." what was it? "Notch on your bedpost."

"That's a fun trick."

I blinked. "What?"

"You talk, and your father's voice comes out."

My mouth worked silently. I looked at him, without looking away, the way he was looking at me. Just looking at someone had never made feel this way before.

"What do I do? I mean, if I want to be your girlfriend. Um."

I sounded like an idiot. I knew it even then.

"You don't do anything. We hang out. Do stuff together."

"Like what?"

"I can think of a few things."

Chapter Eleven.

Evelyn "He can't be in here," Jennifer said coldly, scowling at me from her top bunk.

"He's not staying. Besides, we can have guests until ten o'clock."

"Nice to meet you, too," Victor smirked at her. "I guess this means I'm dropping you off."

"Yes."

"Cla.s.ses don't start until Monday. We should go out tomorrow."

"Alright."

Victor stood there, a wry smirk on his face. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, so I shifted from one foot to the other and worked my fingers, hoping he would give me some signal. His eyebrow rose and his smile widened a little, and then he put his hands on my shoulders, leaned down, and pressed his lips to mine.

I didn't know what to do. Did I just stand there. I pushed back a little, turned my head. It was pleasurable when I felt his lips move against mine. It felt good. His lips tugged on my bottom lip as he pulled away, and my chest fluttered. I felt strangely excited, like I wanted to start bouncing on my heels. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and his fingers traced down the side of my neck and made me shiver. It was like a tickle, but different. I smiled dully.

It was my first kiss.

"I'll be around," he said, and squeezed my arm.

"Nice to meet you," he nodded at Jennifer.

Vic strode out of the room. I rushed over and locked the door, went back to my new desk and sat in the old chair in a daze.

"He's trouble," Jennifer said in a cold voice, and rolled over to face the wall.

I gave her back a withering look, but she didn't seem to notice. She ignored me completely as she tossed and turned, sat up, dug a book out of her bags and climbed back up with a little reading lamp.

"I get up early," she said, seemingly to no one in particular.

"So do I. Lights out?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

I turned off the overhead light and climbed into bed. Her reading lamp lit the room softly for maybe an hour, then clicked off. I curled up tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. All I could think about was the way he touched me. It was just my arms, but no one ever really touched me. Then there was the kiss. I thought it was awkward, but I liked it. I wondered what it would be like to kiss the way they did in movies, open mouthed, writhing around, bodies pressed together in pa.s.sionate heat. I pressed my legs together, too. I felt itchy, and hot even though the air conditioning made me shiver. I tucked up under my blanket and tried again to sleep, tried to clear my head and think about nothing. I should have fallen asleep easily. I was tired, I'd been awake all day, in the car and carrying things and unpacking. I had a full stomach.

Sleep stalked me for hours but never pounced. When I finally dozed off it must have been in the wee hours of the morning, and it was a fitful sleep. When my roommate made the slightest move or sound, I snapped awake. I'd never shared a room with a person before, and every movement made me think intruder.

I had a dream.

Everything was huge, like some torturous funhouse. Chairs were too high to climb, the carpet monstrously huge, sc.r.a.ping my tiny feet as I walked. I was in a strange place, a huge empty place. Sheets covered all the furnishings like ghosts, and there were light squares on the walls, specters of lost paintings. Boxes everywhere, a maze of them. There was something behind me, following me, stalking, moving closer. I looked over my shoulder and saw him. My father, gigantic and stooped, his head sc.r.a.ping the ceiling. His eyes burned with blue flames, like a gas stove, charred the skin around his too-big eye sockets. I screamed and ran and he chased after me on back-jointed legs, snapping a belt in his huge bony hands. The belt was made of strange pale leather, as wide as my hands and studded with gleaming metal points, wickedly sharp. I ran and ran and ran and called a name without remembering it.