Fierce by Clarissa Wild

movement. I have to twirl it around
his head to take it off, so I lean forward. Sometimes I catch him flashing a
glance at my boobs. My entire body zings from seeing it. Like I want him to see
me. Almost as if I’m prepping to be touched.
    I clear my throat once I’m done, and check
the remaining scar to see if it’s healing well enough.
    “Are you afraid they’ll ask you why you
were in a fight?” I say.
    He snorts. “Oh, no. They know already.”
    “Then what? You’re afraid to look weak?” I
say.
    When he doesn’t answer, I know I made the right
guess. “What does it matter what they think? You were the one who told me that
the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself.”
    His eyebrows tighten and he looks down at
the floor. “I said that because it’s true, but my situation is a little more
complicated than that. I need to be fit and ready, at all times.”
    “For what? Fighting?”
    He sighs, which sounds more like a dragon’s
breath, and reaches over to his fridge, taking out a bottle of water. He holds
the plastic bottle against his swollen face, the coldness of it probably
soothing to him.
    “I fight because I have to.”
    “Why?”
    “Stop asking so many questions. I saved
your ass. That’s the only thing you need to know.”
    I swallow and sit back. I feel I
overstepped his limits a bit. “Thank you for helping me back there. If it wasn’t
for you, I’d be …” I push away the word again. “How come you were there
anyway?”
    “I was watching them. Still pissed I didn’t
spot them leaving the joint. Otherwise I would’ve been there way quicker.”
    “You were watching them?” I say with a
voice that makes me sound like an interviewer.
    He shuts his mouth and just stares at me.
    Okay … I guess even that question is too
much for him.
    I wonder what in the world he’s hiding.
    “Well, your wounds look like they’ve healed
quite nicely. Should be no more than a couple of days before the scars are
completely gone.”
    “Too bad. I kinda liked the idea of looking
like a pirate.” He leans closer, makes a yaarrghh sound, and forms hooks
with his fingers.
    We both burst out into laughter.
    We spend the next hour going over his
homework and outlining what needs to be done in order to catch up. He’s behind
schedule by quite a bit, and it worries me to see him struggle this much. I
didn’t know he had so much trouble coping with college life.
    When he throws the book to the other end of
the room, I sigh.
    “Enough for today. I’m fucking tired
already,” he says, yawning.
    “But we haven’t even started yet.”
    He shrugs, and I stand up. I pick up his
book lying next to the book shelf, and when I come back up I can’t help skim
over the many books inside. It’s like a treasure chest to me. I wish I could
just grab a bunch of them, sneak out, lock myself in my room, and read all day.
    I hear footsteps behind me. Then I feel his
chest press up against my back.
    I shudder. His pecs are pushing against my
back, and I love how it feels. My whole body clenches with need.
    “I used to read a lot when I was little,”
he says softly.
    “I can see …” I say.
    “You like books a lot, don’t you?” he says,
and he lowers his head so he can look into my eyes. I don’t dare turn my head.
I’m much too excited. Electrified by his proximity.
    And then my eyes catch a peculiar book. Harry
Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone .
    I gasp. “Oh my God! You’ve read Harry
Potter ? God, it’s been ages since I last saw that book.”
    He chortles softly, so close to my ear it’s
making me shiver.
    I turn around within his arms and find
myself gazing into his hypnotizing eyes.
    “I told you, you shouldn’t judge a book by
its cover. Reading is … difficult. But if I have the patience, I enjoy it.” I
don’t even hear the words he’s saying. All I can see are those rugged lips as
they separate. How he licks his lips in between and squeezes them. How I want
to kiss him.
    He