Page 15 of Fiery Little Thing
I bare my teeth at him when he pushes me against a hidden crook right next to the janitor’s closet. He encroaches on my space, towering over me as his hot breath brushes against my skin. “Don’ttouch me.”
His eyes are prettier than I remember. Deep brown rings merge into moss green before a burst of gold. I can’t believe I imagined the pyromaniac’s eyes when I was with Duke. I wish I found his appearance abhorrent so my brain wouldn’t think of stupid things like what his lips might feel like.
All the expressions he lacked before are loud and clear now, from the downward curl of his lips to the tight lines around his eyes. “Answer the question, or I’ll tell Principal Beer Gut that you didn’t show me around.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Tell him.”
He tips his head to the side and says condescendingly, “Oh yeah? Should I also tell him about the fountain pen you took from his office, Thief?”
“I didn’t—”
He holds up the pen.
Fucker.
My gaze darkens on him, and I’m trying not to think about how close he is. Or how this is the first time I’ve smelled patchouli and mint since I nuked his room. Or the fact that his hand is right beside my head, leaning on the wall behind me.
“Why do you want to know? Planning on coming over to watch10 Things I Hate About Youand touch toes underneath the blanket?”
He sneers at me. “I don’t want hand, foot, and mouth disease.”
My jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re saying you look like thatnaturally? How about we go on that walk back to Principal Fifth-Divorce, and we can see about giving you shingles instead.”
“Please,” he scoffs. “I’d probably catch chlamydia just by standing next to you.”
Temper grows its own valve inside my heart, releasing a rush of scorching red that has me curling my fists to bring them down on him. I amnotmy mother. “Wow. Big words for such a little brain. It’s truly a wonder why they held you back a year.”
His hand grasps my throat, and he presses his thumb against my pulse point. The touch is oddly… gentle, with threatening undertones.
“You shut the fuck up.” The words come out beneath his breath; I’m taken aback by his lack of aggression. He’s never been the simmering type of angry—or the boiling type.
“Or what?” I get in his face, so close that he can feel the warmth of my breath just as surely as I can sense his. If his proximity is going to get on my nerves, then I’m damn well playing the same game. “You’ll torch my house again?”
Kohen scoffs.
“What?” I snap. He’s been here all of two minutes, and I already want to kill him. It truly is a talent.
A pinch forms between his brows, and he looks down his nose like he’s better than me. “Here I was, thinking you’d be less of a bitch after spending some time in here.” The betterment and entitlement seeping through his tone remind me that he is his father’s son. Charming looks, sweet in his smile, and lethal in his words.
“Here I was, thinking you’d be in prison. Guess we’re both disappointed.”
I gasp when he shifts his leg and it brushes against mine—and the parasites in my stomach are at it again. My body is fucking ridiculous. I need a new one. The disconnect between my brain’s hatred for him and the barest touch sending sparks up my spine is going to send me to a ward with all the conflict going on.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “All the drills they make us doin the morning means I can pack a punch. Happy to demonstrate.”
His next exhale flutters through my hair, and he looks at the movement. There’s something about how he watches it that has the fifth, angry valve in my heart relaxing its beat. Then his eyes harden, and I’m back to imagining all the ways I could put him in a grave.
“Doubtful. The only thing you do is run as fast as you run your mouth.” His gaze briefly drops to my lips before his own twists into an even deeper scowl.
“Don’t pay attention to my mouth, Pyro. It’s gross.”
“You wish I were paying attention to your mouth, Klepto.” He sneers.
I’m sick of this. I shove Kohen in the chest, but he doesn’t move an inch. I breathe in the hatred-tinged air until it fills my lungs. I haven’t felt this alive in weeks, and it kills me that Kohen is the reason for it. “Why the fuck are you here, you absolute maniac?”
I hate that when his lips turn into a mischievous smile, my lungs forget how to work. “Haven’t you heard?”
I square my shoulders. “Don’t flatter yourself. No one willingly talks about you, Kohen. Only about your brother.”
