Page 23 of Pieces Into Place

Chapter twelve

Kane

Friday night was a real eye opener for me. I went to the bar ready to relax and to forget Olivia, the girl who had been on my mind for far too long. But then there she was, flirting with some guy that I didn’t know. The sight of her made me so angry that I just had to intervene.

Messing with Olivia by implying she left me with four kids and a farm to run was unnecessary but just plain fun. She got so flustered that she couldn’t even form sentences. Her cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink as I whispered in her ear about taking her home – something I hadn’t intended to do until those words came out of my mouth.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to take her back to my place and have a fantastic fuck. After all, if we had just met at the bar, it would have probably been inevitable. But now that I know her better, I realize that it just isn’t worth the headache.

Judging by how she’s behaving this week, she’s still not happy with me about Friday night. The air between us is heavy and tense, clearly alluding to the simmering rage beneath the surface. Every time I glance her way in the hallways, classrooms, or cafeteria, she shoots me a glare so potent it could cut through steel. Her avoidance of me throughout the week only reinforces my suspicion that she’s still holding a deep grudge.

As I slowly edge toward my motorcycle at the end of another weary week, I feel an impending sense of doom like something is about to happen. Sure enough, as I reach for the handlebars, I hear a noise behind me. Turning around, I see Olivia standing there with her hands balled into fists and her face contorted in anger.

Judging by the look on her face, she’s figured out I’m the owner of the motorcycle, and the one who made her drop her coffee, fern, and whatever other teacher crap she was carrying. That was weeks ago. She can’t still be mad about that.

“You motherfucker!” she yells, charging at me like a bull seeing red.

I guess she can still be mad about that.

“Who do you think you are?” she demands, stepping closer to me. Her face is tight with rage and I can see she’s earnestly trying to get an answer. But it’s hard not to be distracted by the polka dots on her dress, which makes me feel like I’m being accosted by Minnie Mouse on a bender.

“I asked you a question, Asshole!” she says, voice full of venom.

“Oh, I thought that was rhetorical,” I responded in a relaxed tone.

“You’ve been interfering in my life ever since you got here. I want to know why,” she insists.

“You flatter yourself,” I say in a measured tone. “I don’t care about your business.”

“You’re a liar,” she hisses as she steps so close that our toes are almost touching. “I knew it! You are obsessed with me. What kind of sicko are you?”

My laughter echoes like thunder, a mocking sound. She’s such an arrogant brat; of course she would think that.

“I’m not obsessed with you Olivia, I’m just tired of your games. It was fun toying with you at first, but now it’s becoming tedious.”

Her face contorts in fury at my words. “Is that why you followed me to that bar? Is that why I’ve seen your motorcycle parked outside my apartment? Don’t deny it, I know it was you!”

Fuck! My teammates would have a field day if they found out I was caught so quickly by a civilian. Stupid Kane; she’s really got me off my game. All I can do is deny it and try to make her look crazy. Gaslighting 101, here we go…

“Perhaps, in some giant plot to make money, the companies that make motorcycles made more than one,” I say condescendingly.

She grinds her teeth as she gazes at me with anger. “Don’t act like that toward me. Don’t talk to me like I’m dumb. Whatever strange game this is, it ends here,” she screeches, gesturing between us.

“There is no weird game; your imagination has created a fantasy world,” I snort in response.

“That’s how you want to be? Fine. On Monday, I’m going to the head of administration and have you fired,” she barks before spinning around and stomping back toward the portal of hell she came through.

When she’s about three feet away, I let my temper flare up and yell loudly enough for people passing by to hear if anyone were in our presence.

“You are really an awful person, you know that? You are a miserable, lonely, spoiled little brat.” I should stop now – that would be the best thing to do. But I don’t always make the wisest decisions, so I proceed with the horrible course I’m on. “No surprise that you have to meet strangers for casual sex in bars. Everyone who knows you understands why they should stay far away.”

Olivia stops in her tracks and hangs her head for a moment as if silently asking for forgiveness for what is about to happen. Before I know it, she spins on her heels and briskly moves toward me, a fury of polka dots. All I have time to see is a tiny fist flying toward me. It’s almost funny until she makes an impact; that tiny fist rams into my throat like a Mack truck.

“Fuck!” I wheeze, my hand automatically going to my throat. When she starts yelling, I’m still bent over and heaving, trying to take in any tiny amount of air through my spasming larynx.

“You do not get to talk to me like that. Ever. I am a human being. You will not disrespect me.” That tiny right hook is still fisted and primed for more contact.

“Jesus Christ, Lady!” I gasp, now that more air is being allowed into my lungs. “You can’t just go around punching people. You could get seriously hurt.”