Fearless (The Swift Series) (2 page)

                Just then, I heard another pair of footsteps.

                “What do you want?” Abigail’s voice was threatening.

                “Just here to help,” I heard. It was a guy’s voice. “Besides,
it’s not like I was planning to attend all my classes anyway. Now run along
before you ruin your perfect little attendance record, Ms Class President.”

                “Bye, Taylor,” I heard Abigail’s footsteps move
away.

                Then, I was suddenly being pulled by the hand, and I
had no idea where I was going.

“I don’t know how long it’s gonna’ take to feel okay, but I had the
best day with you today…”

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

                I heard doors open and then I stopped and pulled
backwards. He stopped.

                “Wait,” I told him, not even sure if I was facing
him. “I don’t know who you are. How do I know this isn’t some trick? That
you’re not going to do to me like you crazy people did to Kyle two years ago?”

               “And things were going so smoothly,” he let go of my
hand, and I immediately felt vulnerable. Unstable. “You know, I really liked it
when you weren’t asking questions.”

                “Where are you?” I put my arms in front of me and
started waving them around. My eyes were still burning so much I couldn’t force
myself to open them.  “Please. I still can’t see.”

                “Only if you stop asking questions,” I could tell
that he was teasing me, and I was so mad.

                “Fine,” I agreed.

                “Good,” he said, and then I felt his shoulder under
my left hand. I put my right hand on his chest and then felt my way upwards
until I could feel his face. Then, without even thinking, I gave him the
strongest right hook I could. I knew I hit something. He sure made a noise like
I hit him. “What was that?” he asked, indignant.

                “For all I know you could be into human
trafficking,” if I could look at him, I knew I would be glaring at him. “But
you won’t let me ask questions. Better safe than sorry.”

                “You,” he chuckled. “I like you.”

                “Good, now give me your blazer so I can wipe this
stuff out of my eyes.”

                “Why can’t you use your blazer?”

                “Are you helping me or not?”

                “God you are so difficult,” he groaned, exasperated.

                “You’re the one who’s being difficult.”

                “I think my nose is bleeding,” he announced.

                “I’d be able to help if I could see.”

                “You can punch me just fine without your vision.”

                “That’s because you’ve got such a big head; the
worst sniper in the world couldn’t miss it.”

                “Why are you so difficult?”

                “YOU’RE DIFFICULT.”

                “Here, then!” All of a sudden he stuck his blazer in
my face and he was wiping it haphazardly, pushing against my cheeks, nose and
eyes.

                “Okay, okay!” my voice was muffled.

                When he removed his blazer from my face it was as if
I was in a dark room and someone just opened the blinds to reveal the sun. Once
my eyes adjusted I saw him. He had light skin and light brown hair that was
longer than the other boys I’d seen in school. His nose was pointed (not
bleeding), his eyes were light blue and his lips had that smug expression the
exact same way I imagined based on his voice. And his uniform (sloppily tied
tie, half-unbuttoned polo and black shirt underneath) was as sloppy as I’d
imagined.

                Just then, he put his hand on the back of my hand
and pushed me towards him. My lips were on his.

                “WHOA!” I staggered backwards. “WHAT THE HELL?”

                “You were staring at my lips, I thought that was
what you wanted,” he smiled.

                “I was just blinded! My eyes were adjusting!” I
noticed I was speaking louder than I should’ve, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I
didn’t know I was staring at your lips!”

                “Please, lower your voice,” he held his hands out.

                “Besides!” I really couldn’t stop myself and I
didn’t understand why. “Just because a girl stares at your lips doesn’t mean
she wants to kiss you!”

                “Most of the time it does,” he argued.

                “And you certainly wouldn’t kiss her unless you
wanted to,” I pointed out.

                “And so what if I wanted to?” he shrugged.

                “Invasion of personal space,” I finally relaxed a
little.

                “Maybe if you didn’t back away so soon you would’ve
liked it,” he took a step closer.

                I took a step back, “You’re crazy.”

                He took a larger step closer; he was right in front
of me. “About you.” I rolled my eyes and scoffed, but couldn’t help but smile
and blush. “I told you,” he whispered, “I like you.”

              Then he leaned in to kiss me and I turned away, “I’m
not doing this with you.” I explained, “I don’t even know you.”

                He sighed and then took a step back. “Fair enough.”
He held out his hand, “Stephen Matveev.”

                “Taylor Doctor,” I shook his hand. “And, no, my
father is not a doctor.”

                “What about your mom?” he asked.

                “She was an aspiring fashion designer,” I answered.
“She made a lot of me and my sister’s dresses.”

                “Was?” he caught.

                “She died last year.”

                Yeah, I may have failed to mention that, perhaps, a
part of the reason why my dad was so eager to move away was because he wanted
to get out of Orainville. My sister took after my mom in that she was a very
social creature. Everything and everyone in Orainville had a connection with my
mom, so everything reminded us of her. It was too difficult. It was the reason
why my sister and I agreed to the move without much conflict.

                “How are you and your family with that?”

                I blinked. “Um… We’re holding up, thanks.”

                “What?” he asked, smiling.

                “You really are different,” I remarked.

                “How so?”

                “Most people say ‘my condolences’ or ‘I’m sorry for
your loss’ but you ask me how me and my family are instead,” I replied.

                “Did you find it intrusive?”

                “No, it was nice,” I smiled and then looked down.

                “I don’t believe in saying those things unless I
mean it,” he explained. “And I didn’t know your mother.”

                “That makes sense,” I nodded. “Well, this was nice,
but I’m already really late to class as it is.”

                “But we were having so much fun,” he pointed out.

                “Maybe we can have lunch together?” I offered.

                “Or maybe we can skip class together,” he countered.

                “Seriously?”

                “Yeah,” he nodded. “I mean, would you rather sit in
class with a bunch of crazy people or hang out with me?”

                “You’re crazy, too, you know,” I pointed out.

                “But you like my crazy,” he smiled smugly.

                “I
prefer
your crazy,” I corrected jokingly.
“Lesser of two evils.”

                “Look, you want to skip school with me or not?” he
repeated his offer. “I won’t hold it against you if you don’t. I mean I could
imagine how important it must be since it’s only the second day of school.
Learning all your classmates names is definitely worth exposing yourself to
more drinks to the face.”

                I sighed. “Alright. Besides, I need a change of
clothes.” I looked down to see my polo and tie both ruined.

                “I got just the thing,” he grabbed me by the hand
and we started running down the steps of Vroncourt’s main entrance and down the
street.

                “Where are we going?” I asked.

                Just then we reached a red beetle. I smiled because
I loved the old-style Volkswagen beetles,

                “Is this your car?”

                “Yup,” he replied, opening the front to reveal a
backpack. He reached in and pulled out a white Beatles T-shirt.

                “Really?” I crossed my arms. “A Beatles shirt in a
beetle?”

                “I love the Beatles, and I love beetles,” he
shrugged and then flung the shirt at me. “Go ahead.”

                “And change in the middle of the street?” I pointed
out sharply.

                He rolled his eyes, “There’s nobody around.” He came
up to me and grabbed the shirt from my hands, “It’s not like anybody’s going to
see.” He then put the shirt onto his shoulder and pulled off my blazer. After
he pulled off my tie, he started unbuttoning my shirt.

                “DUDE!” I yelled, staggering back.

                “WHAT?” he yelled back.

                “I’m not changing in the middle of the road. What
makes you think I’ll change in front of you?”

                “I don’t follow the logic-”

                “JUST TURN AROUND,” I yanked the shirt from his
grip.

                He yanked it back, “Listen, Doc. It’s just a little
quid pro quo. I lend you a shirt, I get to see –”

                I slapped him in the face, “You’re a pervert!” Then
I yanked the shirt from his hands and turned around.

                “I’m a guy,” he reasoned. “A very straight one at
that. You should be relieved.”

                I was unbuttoning my shirt as quickly as I could,
“Why on earth would I be relieved that you’re straight?”

                “Because now you don’t have to worry about whether
or not you’re wasting time having a crush on me.”

                “You are SO full of it,” I took off my polo and put
on the shirt as quickly as possible then turned back to face him. I threw my
polo at him, “And you’re pretty fast when it comes to undressing girls in the
Vroncourt uniform. Have a lot of experience in that area, huh?”

                “If you’re trying to ask if me and Abigail ever
hooked up, the answer is no,” he replied. “Though, I’m sure she would’ve wanted
to.” I moved to slap him again but he grabbed my hand and twirled me so his
arms were around me and he was breathing down my neck, “Please stop trying to
slap me.”

                “Then stop being a pervert,” I tried to break free,
but his grip was really strong.

                “You really are different,” he commented.

                “Why? Because I don’t fall all over you the way
girls normally do?”

                “You read my mind.”

                “Would you let go?” I demanded, struggling some
more. “I’ll scream and tell people you were trying to rape me.”

                He laughed right into my ear. “You wouldn’t do that.
You’re much too cool to do something like that. Besides, you’re enjoying this.”

                “No I’m not.”

                “Yes you are.”

                “No.”

                “Yes.”

                “If I say I’m enjoying it, will you let me go?”

                “It’s worth a shot,” I could hear the smirk in his
voice.

                I sighed. “I’m enjoying this,” I said begrudgingly. Then
I tried to push my way out of his arms, “Happy?”

                “Try meaning it, please,” he requested.

                I tried mocking a girl who was swooning, “Oh,
Stephen, don’t ever let go.” Then I strained my neck to try and look at him,
“Okay now?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Then why aren’t you letting me go?”

                “You just asked me not to.”

                “FOR THE LOVE OF,” I thrust myself forward with all
my strength only to fall forward onto the pavement. I turned to sit up facing
him, “You did that on purpose!”

                “You wanted me to let go,” he reminded. Then he held
out a hand.

                “I don’t need your help, thanks,” I stood up.

                “I like you,” he smiled.

                “That’s about as flattering as a stalker sending you
naked pictures of themselves,” I rolled my eyes.

                “Would you like me to send you-”

                “NO.”

                “This is going to be a great day,” Stephen was
suddenly so giddy with excitement. He was almost jumping up and down, “After
all, a hero with a sidekick that hassles him the whole way through makes for the
best stories.”

                “Sidekick?” I raised an eyebrow.

                He ran to the passenger side of the beetle and
opened it, “My lady.”

                “Hero?” my eyebrow was still raised.

                “Would you just get into the car?” he was
exasperated.