Page 19 of Hiding In the Dark (The Righteous 4)
He pulled out her chewy granola bar and dropped the backpack on the floor. She bit her lip, so tempted to leap across the table.
“See, I found something.”
“Good for you. You’ve resorted to stealing food from a younger student. Must make you feel like a big man.” If her words bothered him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he calmly reached over and flipped her books onto the floor.
“You should really watch your mouth.”
“Real mature.” She reached down and picked up the books. “And what could you possibly do that you haven’t already done?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she shouldn’t have waved a red flag in front of the bull.
Kes grinned wickedly before dramatically gasping loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “No, Ashley. I told you I don’t want to sleep with you,” he yelled. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m a respectable student that doesn’t like their cock sucked. Such a mouth on you!”
Her mouth fell open as she stared around the room at the tables of students that could’ve been deaf and still heard him yell. Heat and embarrassment tag-team raced through her body as she scrambled to figure out how to stop him from making things worse.
Leaning forward, she glared daggers that she wished could kill. “Have you lost your mind,” she whispered. “You could get me kicked out.”
“Ms. Hartley, how dare you proposition another student, and in my library, no less.” The librarian stood to glare at her, and panic gripped her throat. She couldn’t be expelled. He may have really done it this time, but she needed this school.
“But, I didn’t,” she called out as she snatched her discarded bag off the floor. The woman had picked up the desk phone to call the principal. Ashley hastily stuffed her books inside all while Kes sat and ate the granola bar he’d stolen from her, looking as annoyingly relaxed as he always did. She wanted to shove that fucking bar down his throat and make him choke on it.
“Busy, I guess I will have to go there myself.” Those sharp eyes swung her way as she zipped up her bag. “You can run away all you want—I’m going to write you up and notify the principal of your disturbing behavior.” The librarian made her way toward the door, and Ashley panicked to correct the situation that jerkface had caused. She made a dash past Kes.
He stuck out his leg at the last second, and she went flying, landing hard on the old, carpeted floor, which instantly created rug burns on her bare knees and palms. She’d already learned the hard way to wear shorts under her school kilt, or she would have given him quite the show as the kilt pulled up her waist with the momentum. Everything jarred, and she sucked in a breath as the sting of the fall registered.
“Get off your knees, Ash. This is simply sad. Throwing yourself at me like this? I have never wanted you to touch me, and you’re making me feel objectified.” She glared over her shoulder at Kes. “Maybe I’ll file for sexual harassment charges against you.”
“You wouldn’t right?” Ashley grabbed her bag and held it against her chest like a shield.
Kes stood from the table, his tall form seeming even larger as he closed the distance. He knelt as he reached her side, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop from crying in front of him. That’s what he wanted, what he got off on, and she wouldn’t give him that.
“Keep up the snotty attitude, Doll, and I’ll make sure no school will ever take you in again. Who would want a troublemaking sexual deviant that was already caught cheating?”
“You know I didn’t do any of those things.” Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to hold back the tears. “Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice cracked slightly, and she hated that she was so weak. Even as he stared at her like she was less than the dirt on his shoe, she couldn’t deny that she still wanted him. Even though she knew better, she kept hoping that like some stupid movie, he would wake up and be different. Kes would protect her instead of treating her like she was worthless—tell her he loved her instead of tormenting her. That was how screwed up her brain was.
Reaching out, he ran a piece of her hair through his fingers. “Because I can. I don’t know why you won’t leave the school. No one wants you here.” He shrugged. “You don’t belong with the rest of us.”
Standing, he dropped the empty wrapper in front of her and walked away, leaving her there with pain inside that went far beyond a skinned knee or bruised ego. The students who had silently watched burst into laughter, forcing the tears to make an appearance.
I hate you, Kes Reynolds. I really hate you.
Kes leaned against a palm tree, the shadows a perfect location to watch Ashley’s apartment from. His eyes had followed her as she passed the window a couple of times—the glimpses were brief, but she looked happy. She was smiling and laughing, and he was suffering a serious case of the green monster.
She was beautiful and sweet and smart, and—the chance of her being single was somewhere between slim and none. Although, he hadn’t seen a man come to her apartment. He wasn’t sure what he would do if one showed up. The thought didn’t sit well with him. His mind shifted to murderous even though he had no right.
The breeze picked up, and unlike the people who passed by around him, all bundled up for the unseasonably low temps, he relished in the cooler air and breathed the refreshing stuff deep into his lungs. He took a drag on the cigarette he was smoking and then looked at the thing, Zumi’s disappointed face coming to mind.
“Shit.” Dropping it on the ground, he stomped it out. “I’m going soft.”
Ashley’s light turned off, and he waited a moment longer before taking a step along the sidewalk to leave but then he stopped and looked up at the darkened windows. Veering off course, he casually walked across the street and between the twin five-story apartment buildings. The back alley was unsurprisingly quiet, not that it would’ve mattered. The streets and its residents were his home and his family. The fire escape was too high to leap to, even for him. Spotting a large dumpster on wheels, he sent a few rats scurrying as he put his back into moving the bulky weight.
It loudly rattled as he moved it below his destination, and he was shocked no one was peering out a window at him. With the added height, he easily launched himself over the metal railing to land softly on the bottom landing. When he was sure no one was paying attention, he took the stairs three at a time to reach the fifth and final floor. He peered into the apartment as he questioned his own sanity.
“Are you really going to do this?” he asked out loud. His hands reached for the bottom of the window. “Guess you are.”
It was locked, but the style was old, and with a few expert yanks with the right amount of twist, the lock popped free. He pushed it open at the bottom like his own personal dog door and, like a shadow, slipped into the darkness. Living on the streets taught you its own unique skill set—lying, stealing, and breaking and entering were commonplace. You learned what you needed to survive.
It was a shallow step to the kitchen floor, and he suddenly hoped she didn’t have a dog. He’d never seen one, but this would be a terrible way to find out.
He gave a soft, low whistle and waited to see if anything came running. When nothing did, he moved through the room toward the hallway. It felt odd and yet comforting to be in her space. Everything smelled like her, and although the place wasn’t large, it gave the feeling of a warm hug.
