49. Haven
Chapter 49
Haven
The moment I step out of the fitting room and Bastian’s eyes lock with mine, I know I’m willing to do whatever it takes to attend the Rain Dance tonight.
I’ll work double shifts the entire summer.
I’ll give Danielle half my tips.
I’ll…I’ll clean the fucking grease trap.
Even thinking about it makes me want to dry heave.
Because I’ve just had my first hit of lust, and I’m already chasing the dragon. The look on Bastian’s face is savage. Primal.
I’m only just figuring out what it means when he snaps himself out of it and demands I switch dresses. And even then, I’m sure I imagined it.
He can’t want me. Not like that.
Bastian Rooke can have any woman he wants. He’s rich, handsome, charming, and intelligent.
So why the hell is he looking at me like that?
I overheard conversations back in high school when I passed groups of girls. They used to talk about boys, and how all they ever wanted all the time was sex.
Maybe that doesn’t change as a guy gets older. Maybe men are just wired that way. So even though I’m so far beneath him, I’m basically dirt, he can’t help but think about it. Imagine it.
So what’s my excuse then?
The amount of times my mind has returned unbidden to the sight of Bastian in nothing but a towel? I play that scene over and over in my head, trying to find something wrong with it, to make it dirty or shameful, so I won’t feel so compelled to dwell on it.
But he thought I was asleep. And then he sees me crying and tries to comfort me. And what do I do?
I fucking slap him.
I’m such a damn mess.
Like, car-hitting-a-fruit-cart-in-a-high-speed-chase kind of mess.
But Professor Rooke doesn’t know that. If he’s expecting me to draw the line for both of us, we’re not making it out of this with our dignity intact.
Then he scoops up my hair, grabs it, knots it, and I see it.
I fucking see it.
The same look I’ve seen on Kai’s face these past few days. This dark, primal, savage hunger that’s got nothing to do with nachos or peanut butter cups.
I’m in a trance as he speaks to the shop assistant, saying something about adjustments. Another store clerk appears out of nowhere, leading me to a stool and opening a bunch of shoe boxes.
I try to protest. Really, I do. But when she slides that first dainty stiletto on my foot, I barely hold back a whimper.
My foot has never looked so pretty. I’ll make a fucking fortune on OnlyFeet.
She puts the other one on and steps back, an expectant look on her face, hands clutched at her waist. “Come on. Let’s see how they feel.”
Oh. She wants me to walk in them.
Here goes nothing.
I feel like I’m trying to perform a circus trick for the first time as I push myself up off the stool. Thank God there’s a purse display near enough for me to grab on as my legs wobble.
These things are tall.
There’s a mirror a few feet away, but it might as well have been a mile.
“Oh, hold on. Let me roll up your jeans.”
I’m red as a fire hydrant as the woman gets on her knees and starts rolling up my jeans to mid-calf.
“Lovely. So? What do you think?”
I risk turning my foot a little to the side so I can see the profile of my feet in the shoe.
Ravishing.
And utterly useless.
“They’re beautiful, but?—“
Bastian appears in the reflection behind me. Before I can turn to him, he seizes my wrist, bending his arm under mine to support me as he urges me to the mirror.
I stagger forward, ankles wobbling, crouching forward like an old woman with a poisoned apple hidden somewhere about my person.
“Bastian! Stop! I can’t walk in these things.”
“You’d prefer a ballet slipper?”
“Unless you want me showing up in a cast, yes!” But by now, we’re all the way to the mirror and there’s nothing to hold on to except Bastian.
And then he lets go.
“I don’t have health insurance,” I mutter. “So better get that credit card ready, because you’ll be paying for my?—“
“Yes, dearie, I heard you the first time. Let me take them off.” Then I’m blushing again, because now he’s on his knees.
“Hm. I see it now.”
I grip him a little tighter as I wobble. “See what?”
How wrong this is?
“I’d buy pictures of your feet.” He strokes the arch of the foot he’s holding, and then tips his head back, giving me an evil smile. “How much?”
“They’re not for sale,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Pity.”
Shivers chase up my leg every time his fingers brush my ankle as he undoes the dainty clasp keeping these torture contraptions strapped to my feet.
“Up.” He taps the side of my leg, and I completely fail to balance on the other foot.
Thankfully, I have his nice, meaty shoulder to hold on to. But now I can feel every muscle move beneath his skin as he goes onto the other foot.
You’d think I haven’t seen action in months with how my body’s responding to this man. It’s not just the sight of him kneeling on one knee. Or how careful he is not to touch me. Or how I feel him tense every time he accidentally does.
It’s the way the shop assistant is looking over at us.
When I grabbed Bastian’s shoulder, I glanced up and saw her staring.
She looks scandalized. Flushed.
And for some fucked up reason, that makes me hold on a little tighter.
“Could we get some satin pumps?” Bastian calls out.
The clerk flinches and then hurries off to the storeroom to fetch my size. When I look down at him, he’s staring up at me with a wicked light in his eyes.
“Think she’s calling the police, or fetching your shoes?”
“I’m almost twenty,” I whisper, and from the way he smiles, it’s like he’s wondering who I’m trying to convince.
“I know,” he says as he slowly stands. “But they don’t.”
I used the restroom while Bastian was paying for everything. It was better than standing trying to talk him out of it again. Because that went so well the first hundred times.
When I come out, he’s already packing everything into the trunk. A gust of warm wind slams into me, sending my hair flying into my face. I tip my head back, staring up at the mass of gray clouds.
“Looks like rain, doesn’t it?” I ask as I head for the passenger door. This time Bastian gets to it before I can, holding it open for me.
“Better bring an umbrella. Wouldn’t want you getting wet tonight.” He slams the door, and I watch him through the windshield as he heads for the driver’s side.
I really have to keep my imagination in check. I’m reading into every single word he says, and in the filthiest way. If I had any guts, I’d joke with him, but instead I just sit there and try not to melt from embarrassment.
Maybe it’s the way I relax as we enter Agony Hollow again, but something prompts Bastian to say, “You ever get bored with small town life?”
“No. Not really.”
“Not even as a kid? I mean, this place doesn’t even have a movie theater.”
“I played outside a lot.” As in, always.
“So you enjoy nature.” I roll my head, catching him nod. “Know any good hiking trails around here?”
“Pfft. I’m not that kind of outdoorsy.”
“Okay, then illuminate me.”
“I had…a friend. We used to play in the woods a lot.” I sigh. “Like all the time.”
“When was this?”
“I was five when we met.”
“What did you do when you got older?”
“You mean like hobbies?” I shake my head, turning to look out the window. The Tesla’s windows are so big it feels like we’re driving around in a goldfish bowl. I can see everything. “Never got into any. It was always just the woods.”
“Even when you got older?”
I glance at Bastian, frowning at his bemused tone. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I just thought you’d have more interests.”
“Like what? Chess club? Cheerleading? Do I honestly strike you as the kind of person who does any of that kind of bullshit?”
Fuck knows why that makes him smile. “So it was always just you and your friend, in the woods.”
“Until I started working part time.”
“You still friends with them? Do they live in town?”
“Why are you so interested in my friend?” I turn in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest.
This is starting to feel like an interrogation, and I don’t like it one bit.
Bastian takes a deep breath, and makes a right turn. We’re almost back at the strip mall where I left his Land Rover. “Because I thought you’d have more friends, Haven.”
I blink at him. “I’m not a people person.”
“Because you don’t like people?” He glances at me, his lips curving into a brief, sympathetic smile. “Or because it’s too hard to connect with them?”
I look away. “Depends on the person. I connect with you just fine, don’t I?”
“You don’t have to be so defensive all the time. This is what friends do. They share things about themselves with?—“
“Oh, we’re sharing ?” I wriggle around in the seat, bracing myself. “Oh good. Then please, Bastian, tell me all about your childhood. What was it like, huh?”
He’s staring straight ahead, a jaw in his muscle ticking.
“Come on. We’re sharing, aren’t we? Did you have a bazillion friends? Were you in the chess club? Cheerleading squad? Or have you psychoanalyzing everyone since you were a teenager?”
“That’s enough,” he grinds through his teeth.
“Oh, so it’s fine for you to pry, but Bastian’s past is a closed book?”
All the tension leaves his face. He lets out a soft laugh and pulls up the emergency brake so hard that my head bobs forward.
We’re back at the strip mall, right beside the Land Rover.
He’s still for a moment, head bowed, eyes unfocused. Then he turns to me, a polite smile on his mouth that makes the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up.
“I told you our relationship wasn’t transactional. We are nowhere near the stage where I feel comfortable telling you about my childhood.” He tilts his head to the side, frowning softly.
“Then stop pestering me about mine. We can talk about…sports.”
But Bastian keeps speaking like I didn’t even say anything. “You’re an only child. Your mother isn’t around anymore, and your father is unemployed. I’m assuming you’ve never had a stable home life. Perhaps even a terrible one.”
His quiet words feel like razor blades slicing into my skin. Nothing at all, then a sting that steadily grows sharper and sharper. When he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together, I flinch. When he squeezes, I start to shake.
“I’m in a position to help you. Emotionally. Psychologically. Financially. And that’s what I’m doing. That’s my gift. I help people. But if you keep pushing me away…”
He rubs his thumb over my skin, sending electric tingles through my body.
I want to slap him.
I want to kiss him.
I want climb onto his lap and see that savage look in his eyes when I unzip him.
But the last time someone promised to do me a favor, all they did was hurt me.
Again, and again, and again.
I grab his wrist, yanking my fingers out of his firm grip. My hand shakes as I swipe at the tears that race down my cheeks.
“I don’t need your help,” I spit out, fingers fumbling as I try to release the safety belt.
He reaches over to help me, like I’m a fucking child, and I slap his hand away.
“I don’t need your help!”
Then I’m bolting out of his car, to the Land Rover. Pulling at the handle as I furiously swipe away at the incessant stream of tears. The wind throws my hair against my mouth. I spit it out, shrugging my face against my shoulder.
He comes up behind me. “Haven…”
I hear the keys jangle, and I turn just enough to see them dangling from his hand. I snatch them away, fumbling, dropping them.
“Please calm down.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I finally get the car unlocked, wrenching the door open so fast I almost hit myself in the face.
Wouldn’t that have been hilarious.
But I can’t close it, because Bastian’s holding the top, and he’s leaning in. “Can we please just talk this out like adults?—”
“No, because I’m a fucking child, remember?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” I tug at the door. “Leave it! I’m running late for my shift!”
He hangs his head and sighs like it’s so fucking hard being an adult with unlimited money and no problems. “You don’t have a shift.”
I bark out a laugh. “Yes, I fucking do. But not for much longer if you don’t. Let. Go!” I keep yanking at the door handle, but it’s like playing tug of war with a pit bull.
Bastian glances away, looking dead fucking serious when he turns back. “You don’t have a shift, because you don’t work at the diner anymore.”
I stop tugging. “What?”
He slowly licks his lips, like he’s stalling. Rolls his bottom one between his teeth. “You should be studying, not serving patty melts.”
“I should…” I shake my head as icy prickles shoot through my fingertips. “What did you do?”
“The sorority gives you full room and board. You don’t have to work anymore.” He delivers every word with this calm assurance that makes me want to scream.
“Bastian, what did you do?”
“I called them. Told them you were quitting. They’ll send your last check to the sorority, I gave them the?—“
I lunge out of the car and shove his chest with all my might. He steps back, holding up his hands, taking another breath like he’s trying to keep his cool.
“You’re a fucking lunatic!” I ward him off with a pointed finger. “You stay the fuck away from me. Stay the fuck out of my life. Just…fuck off!”
I slam the door and throw the gear shift in reverse, taking off with his Land Rover at a dangerous speed. At the next intersection, I bang my hand against the steering wheel as I fight back a sob.
Then I realize it’s his steering wheel, that I need to take this car back to his house and fetch mine.
I pull over and have a good sob about it, so I don’t cause an accident. And then I drive back to the sorority house, because even though I desperately want to drive to the diner and beg for my job back, I’m in no state to do that right now.