The Hidden (The Hidden Trilogy) (11 page)

He waved his hand in front of my face. “Emily? Are you even listening?”

I blinked and looked up at his beautiful face. His eyebrows had pulled together, a little indent between them, as his pale blue eyes bored into mine. His hair draped across his forehead in a haphazard way, and I reached up, brushing it to the side. He stilled, his brows relaxing as shock crossed his face, quickly followed by his ghost-of-a-smile.

I knew then that I’d give in if he asked. All this fighting–this
resisting
–it was just because deep down, I knew that all he had to do was say the words and I’d be putty in his hands. Yeah, he could be smug and an all-around ass, but…I still
wanted
him. Bad. In a way I’d never experienced before.

And I hated myself for it. Since when was
I
a slave to lust? I had to stay far,
far
away from Thomas. He would be my undoing, I was certain of it.

I pulled my hand back, giving him a sad smile. I brushed past him, and didn’t stop or turn around when he called after me.

Chapter Sixteen

THOMAS

I took my usual seat in the back of Mr. Maynard’s World Civilization class and rested my head on my desk. It was especially ironic that I had to take a history class, considering I’d actually lived through most of what the textbook contained. Needless to say, I didn’t have to try very hard in this class.

“You smooth things over with her?”

I lifted my head to see Matt sitting next to me, with an impish grin on his face.

I scowled and took my history book out of my messenger bag. After all, I still had to make it
look
like I was trying. “Why am I not surprised to see you?”

He ignored my comment. “Did you?”

“No.” I glanced down at my textbook, trying not to look sullen.

He sighed. “What’d you do now?”

“Nothing. I apologized for like the millionth time and she still wouldn’t have any of it… Then I might’ve followed her after class and said something about how she’d need me here pretty soon.”

Matt winced. “How’d she take it?”

“About how you’d expect.” I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging on it out of sheer frustration.

“It might not be that bad. I think you’re making it out to be worse than it really was.”

“No, it really is this bad. I mean,
Jesus
, this morning I–” My face burned as I cut my words off. “Never mind.”

“What?” Matt was riveted to what I was saying, like an old lady dying to get the latest piece of gossip at the beauty parlor. At any other time, I would’ve found it highly amusing.

“Nothing, it’s too humiliating,” I mumbled.

He smiled. “Okay, now you
have
to tell me.”

I hung my head in shame, feeling my face ablaze. “This morning when I was around her, I got…kind of…you know…excited.”
God
, I wanted to die, right then and there.

I had to give Matt credit, though. He tried–
really tried
–not to laugh. His mouth pressed into a hard line as he fought against it and shrugged. “It happens.”

“But it
shouldn’t
. I’m a grown man. I’m
three-hundred years old
, not some hormonal teenager,” I said, lowering my voice as I glanced around.

He shrugged. “So you pitched a tent at a less-than-stellar time, big deal. It doesn’t make you a perv, it makes you a dude.” Matt sighed. “You need to loosen up, man. When’s the last time you rubbed one out?”

“I’m not talking to you about that.”

He chuckled. “Been that long, huh?”

“It’s–” I sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I do it…an appropriate amount.”

“An
appropriate amount
?” He was almost in hysterics again. “What, is that like once a year, or…?”

I flipped him off. “Yeah, yeah. Yuk it up, asshole.” I rested my head in my hands and groaned. “Why can’t I act like a normal person around her?” I lifted my head to see Matt shoot me a look. “You know what I mean. I’m a complete tool around her.”

He grinned. “Maybe you
loooove
her.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not
in love
with her… I just can’t stop thinking about her.”

Matt laughed. “You’ve got it bad. She’s hot, right? Shit, she’s gotta be if
you’re
sweatin’ her.”

I shot him a nasty look. “She’s beautiful, yes.”

He turned serious as he said, “Do you think she might be someone you’d like to mate?”

My eyes dropped down to my desk as I shrugged. “That’s irrelevant.
She
doesn’t want
me
, remember?”

And it didn’t look like she’d be changing her mind anytime soon.

Chapter Seventeen

EMILY

Once my last class of the day was dismissed, I exited the small classroom, trying to make my way down the overflowing hallway. Instead of going back to my dorm, I headed to the advising office.

I needed to fix my Thomas problem. This was too much. I didn’t trust myself around him–my body wanted to do things that my mind knew damn well I shouldn’t.

The secretary behind the information desk looked up as I opened the door. “Can I help you?”

I shifted the weight of my bag on my shoulder. “I need to change my schedule.”

A redheaded woman making copies behind the secretary frowned. Everything about this woman was excessive, from her big, teased hair, to her heavy makeup. “There’s not a whole lot of open classes left, but we’ll have a look,” she said, picking up her copies and signaling for me to follow her.

She led us down the hall and into her office. After she’d gotten my name and pulled up my schedule on her computer, she asked, “What do you need to change?”

“I want to get out of my sociology class.”

She clicked her mouse. “What do you want to change it to?”

“Anything that counts towards my humanities credit. Maybe philosophy or psychology?”

“You want to keep the same time? The eleven o’clock block on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays?”

I nodded. “If I can.”

Her long, glossy red fingernails clicked on the keyboard as she typed. “Unfortunately… there’s no availability in the psychology or philosophy classes during that time.”

Crap. “What about something else? Can I switch my history class to eleven and take sociology at ten?”

Her nails clicked again before she shook her head. “No availability in any history thirteen-oh-one’s at eleven o’clock.”

Double crap. “What if I take sociology at a different time, like eight or nine?”

She clicked a few more times. “Eight and nine o’clock classes are full, too.”

Desperation sank in. “There’s got to be
some
classes that aren’t full.” Fuck my humanities credit, I could take it another semester. I just wanted to find
something
to replace my dropped sociology class, because I didn’t want to lose those three credits.
Any
open class would do–I could use it as an elective if I had to.

She looked at me from over the rim of her glasses, then back to her computer screen. “Let’s see…Intermediate Spanish…Calculus II…Advanced Guitar…”

I sighed. “So basically nothing without prerequisites.”

She grimaced and nodded. “Sorry.”

Great. It looked like I was stuck with Thomas.

Chapter Eighteen

Saturday, August 29
th

 EMILY

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I held my phone up, trying to get a signal. Nothing. I moved it lower, then right, then left. Still nothing.

“
Fuck
.” I put the hazards on and climbed out of my car. The sun beat down on me as I held my phone out, still trying to get a signal as I walked around.

Shit. How the hell was I supposed to call for help when I didn’t have any service?

“
Ugh!
” I gripped my phone in my hand, trying not to chuck it in the woods. I shoved it in my pocket and wiped away the sweat collecting on my forehead.

I’d just pulled out my emergency gas can when a car pulled up behind me.

Thank
God
, maybe they can–

I turned around to see Thomas stepping out of a vintage car.

Of course. The
one
person whose help I didn’t want.

Son of a bitch, I can
not
catch a break today.

And of course, this beautiful man would have an equally beautiful car. Pristine and shiny, with glossy black paint and two thick white stripes down the hood, it was what I believe was referred to as a muscle car. It was not at all what I expected him to drive, but it somehow fit him perfectly.

I broke my eyes away from his car to scowl at him.

His flip-flops scraped against the pavement as he approached, and he had a big, stupid grin on his face. He nodded at the red gas can in my hand. “Let me guess. You ran out of gas.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Yes.”

“You want a ride to the gas station?” He twirled his keys around his finger, the jangling metal not only getting on my last nerve, but snapping the damn thing in half.

My jaw clenched as my teeth grit together. The gas station wasn’t
too
far away…I thought. I could probably walk.

Thomas tilted his head and squinted down the road in front of us. “It’s about fifteen miles to the next gas station,” he said, as if he’d just read my mind. “Round trip would make it thirty. That’s an awfully long way to walk…”

Crap. That
was
a long way to walk. “Fine,” I muttered, locking my car. My alarm system gave a quick beep as I walked over to his car.

He grinned. “Told you that you’d need me.”

I gave him a tight smile, reminding myself that without him, I’d be stranded, so I’d better be nice. “Yes, you did.”

He held out his hand and nodded towards the gas can. “Here, I’ll take that for you.”

“Thanks.” I handed it over and watched him walk towards his trunk, seeing his calves flex and stretch as he moved. My eyes automatically moved up to his ass, and I bit my lip as images of his naked rear end ran through my head.

I bet it’s just as muscled as the rest of him–

The trunk closed with a loud thud, snapping my mind out of the gutter. I ducked my head and walked around to the passenger side. I
really
hoped my red face could be passed off as a side effect of the heat…

He slid into his car and leaned over to my door, unlocking it for me. I opened it and climbed in, trying not to grimace at the warmth of his leather seats against my already hot skin. After I shut my door and buckled my seat belt, I noticed the smell. It smelled sweet, like cupcakes. I looked around, trying to discern where the scent came from, but didn’t see anything that remotely resembled a cupcake or its remains.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

His eyes lingered on me for a second before he stuck his keys in the ignition and turned, the engine rumbling as it started. The gravel on the shoulder crunched under his tires as he pulled onto the road.

Wind blew through the half-opened windows. My ponytail swayed with the breeze, and a few stray strands whipped across my face. I tucked them behind my ears as best I could, trying to look anywhere but at Thomas. I used the opportunity to check out his car again, and more thoroughly this time, since I wasn’t distracted by phantom cupcakes. The interior was just as meticulous as the exterior, and everything was black, from the leather seats, to the carpet, to the dashboard.

I glanced up at him out of the corner of my eye. “What kind of car is this?”

He kept his eyes on the road. “It’s a nineteen-seventy Chevelle SS.”

I turned away, looking at the blur of trees out my window. “I don’t speak car, so I have no idea what that means, but…it’s nice.”

He laughed, and the sound startled me. I turned back, taking in the sight of his hair blowing in the wind and the huge smile on his face. He looked so carefree. And his
laugh
…oh, Lord, his laugh. It melted my heart a little and chipped away at the carefully constructed wall I’d built.

I quickly looked away, before the rest of it came crashing down around me. My eyes settled on my door, noticing it didn’t have power windows, but one of those old-school cranks. It was hard to imagine a time where every car was like that, a time without the modern conveniences of today, where everything was available at the push of a button. The thought made me check out the radio, thinking I would find something equally outdated.

My brows pulled together as I stared at the white rectangular box protruding from the radio. “Is that…?” I leaned forward to get a better look. “Is that an
eight-track
?” I glanced up at Thomas incredulously.

He smiled. “I’m surprised you even know what that is.”

I shrugged. “Never seen one in person, but that’s just… Wow.” I had no words. I mean, seriously, an
eight-track
player? That thing belonged in a museum, not in a car. “Does it still work?”

He laughed again, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight and sound. My stomach did a little flip, and I frowned.

Damn it, why does he have to be so cute?

“Yeah, it still works. You want to listen to it?”

I grinned. “Sure.”

He pressed a button and turned up the volume. An acoustic guitar strummed a soft melody, filling the speakers. I immediately recognized the tune and smiled as the guitar picked up speed.

“Zeppelin. Nice choice,” I said, as Robert Plant starting singing.

His brows lifted, but he didn’t say anything.

“What? Are you surprised I know this song?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

The drums kicked in and I stared at Thomas, who was completely at ease, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as the wind disheveled his hair. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen. I hated to admit that I kind of liked it.

Gas sloshed around as I tried to lift the can up to my car’s hatch. A few drops splashed from the nozzle, dripping onto the ground. I grunted and tried lifting it again.