Chapter 2 - Idiot Boy.
Urgh, the morning from hell has just spiraled into spending the day with Satan. Why me?
Why me!
First, I missed the subway to my piano class with Mr. Theodore Donovan. Oh, and how he took immense pleasure in telling me my lesson was canceled—dick. Then I nearly deleted myself by tripping down steps in Central Park and dropped my lunch in the process … in the only fucking puddle in New York City.
How the hell there was a puddle on a day like today, I will never understand, and now my study time has been ruined by Mr. Happy here, who is wearing a freaking suit in this heat. I mean, I get it, it’s only May, but still, the sun has got his hat on. So, why dude? But I have agreed to help him, even though there are at least sixty people in here he could have asked to help.
I let out a huge sigh.
Do a good deed and you’ll succeed.
“You know you’re talking out loud, don’t you? I can hear, in fact everyone can hear, what you’re saying?”
Halting my steps, I glare at him, and with his perfect lips pinched together, he looks like he’s trying not to laugh. I scan the room and see other people in the library watching me with concerned expressions on their faces.
Fuck. My. Life.
“What were you looking for again?”
Grinning, he says, “A best man guide of some sort.”
“Right.” With hurried steps, I walk away so I can get this over and done with.
“You never told me your name.”
“And?” I snap over my shoulder.
“And I’d like to know the name of the woman who took time out of her, urgh, ‘morning from hell’ to help me.”
Last thing I need is to give him my name.
I clutch the pearl necklace around my neck, and it gives me the perfect response to his question.
“It’s Pearl.” It’s not, but it’s not like he will ever find out. Plus, he is a stranger who won’t leave me alone, so Pearl it is.
“Pearl.” He repeats, rolling the “rl” off his tongue, and it sends a shot of warmth straight to my core. Ignoring the strange delight that fills me, and him, I carry on down an aisle until I find something he might find helpful.
Pulling out a book from a shelf, I smile, then hand it to him. He stares at the cover for a beat.
“Being the Best Man For Dummies – The Survival Book.” He looks up at me with a brow raised.
I tap the cover with my pointer finger. “You’re welcome, it should have everything you need in there. Like how to write a memorable speech, getting the groom to the church on time, wedding etiquette, the stag do, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he mumbles, then rubs the back of his neck with his ridiculously large hand. The sinful things I bet he could do with them … God, no, stop those thoughts right now.
I snap out of my trance, and he’s staring back at me, his expression unreadable.
“You wanna get a drink? My treat as a thank you for helping me.” He waves the book in front of me.
No, wait, yes, I do, no I don’t. Why am I thinking about this? It’s a no. Just say no. Politely.
“Uhh, I would but—”
“But you’re racking your brains desperately searching for an excuse to say no.”
“I was, but fine, you’ve already messed up my day enough, so I suppose one drink can’t hurt.”
“Good girl,” he whispers before licking his lips and strutting past me.
GOOD GIRL!
Good girl … Nope, I am not my sister, Hadley, with that good girl crap she reads in books. It doesn’t work on me; I don’t swoon over that shit … Who the hell does he think he is? Is he expecting me to drop to the floor and spread my legs for him? No fucking way.
“Hey!” I shout as I run to catch him up. “On second thought, I’m gonna stay here, thanks for the offer, though.” I smile up at him before stomping my way back to my stuff.
His footsteps get closer as I shove my books back into my bag.
“Your Dream Interpreted.” I spin around to see he’s grabbed one of my books from the desk and is reading the front cover.
“Give me that back now, arsehole.”
“Yeah, sure.” He goes to hand it to me, then jerks his hand away. “After you come for a drink with me.”
My insides soar with anger, and I launch myself at him. Where does this guy get off? Grabbing his stupid tie, I wrap it around my hand and yank him toward me. As he loses balance, he drops my book to the floor and grips my hips to steady himself. I freeze and look down at his hands. That”s a big no-no, pal. Rearing my knee back, I pep talk myself. Time to make this little bitch cry.
He squeezes my hips, sending a tingling sensation through me. “Whoa,” he screeches. “Hold up, gorgeous, no need to take my manhood out. Breathe for me, Pearl.” With my hand still around his tie, I bring him so close our noses brush.
“Listen to me, arsehole, I know your kind, I am not naive nor was I born yesterday. You have three seconds to remove your hands, pick my book up, ever so gently place it on the table, and walk away. Got it.” I release him with a push and turn around.
“Wow, the last guy really did a number on you, huh?” he mutters under his breath.
Ignoring him, I place my water bottle into my bag. Idiot boy.
“Look, Pearl, I am sorry, okay. I will be in the café across the street.” He pauses, and my heart pangs as guilt begins to eat me up inside. Maybe I was a little harsh.
“It’s called Bean There Café. It’s good; me and my friends hang out there a lot. If you change your mind. I honestly didn’t mean to upset you, just wanted to say thanks, that”s all.” I hear his footsteps walking away and turn to see he’s left my dream book and his best man guide on the table. Smooth.