Chapter Seventeen
Raya St Claire

When I woke up the following morning, I realized that I didn’t wake up because of Bear’s loud and constant knocking against my poor door, but because I had this huge pulsing headache.

I missed Bear. I missed his sarcasm and his lame jokes. I even miss his damn knocking.

My heart aches just thinking about it, but there’s nothing I can do about it, about him hating me.

I truly hurt him by telling him that I didn’t feel the same way like he did about me, and I guess it kind of was justified because the signs were there now that I think back on it. He always put my needs before his own, and he was always more touchy than the rest of the boys, and even though I threatened him about it more than a million times, he still found ways to touch me; if it was to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear or if it was fixing my ponytail when I sparred with one of the boys and my hands were taped, or if it was to massage my feet when it ached after being on my feet the whole day, he always found ways to tell me he loved me without saying that he did.

What the hell am I going to do? There’s nothing I could really do, but give him some time. I can’t talk to him, he ignores me flat out or he replies dryly to everything I do manage to say and when I look at him, he looks away fast, as if the idea of looking at me for too long repulsed him.

I sit upright with my back against the headboard and release a heavy sigh.

I miss my best friend.

The sky was grey today, telling me that the rain wasn’t quite over just yet, and to be honest, rain didn’t make me as cheery today as it did every other day. I was too upset, and the headache was causing me to be in a mood for absolutely nothing today. Usually the sound of the rain pitter-pattering against the windows and the roof made me excited, but today, not really so much.

The only thing I was grateful for was the fact that it wasn’t so warm anymore. I hated the humid air, and the sweat that would run down my back and cover my forehead because of the humidity. I also hated it when your clothes would stick to your body from being clammy from the sweat.

Just thinking about clammy clothes and sweat made me want to jump in a cold shower.

I swing my feet out of bed and get out of bed lazily.

I yawn as I made a beeline to my bathroom.

I close the door behind me, trudging towards the mirror in tiny, turtle-like steps. What I saw staring back at me was much worse than anything I have ever seen. Forget dark circles and hollowed cheeks, my cheeks were covered in smudged mascara and my eyes were bloodshot red.

The mascara ran down my face as if it was some sort of war paint, and not the neat kind.

Why the hell did it look like I was crying?

I lean down with my hands on the edges the sink, blowing out a harsh breath. I then open the faucet and splash some cold water over my face, wanting the mascara to disappear, but failed.

I needed to take a shower.

There’s no skipping it today, after all.

● ● ●

I wore a pair of tight jeans, a plum-coloured cardigan different from my usual black and white lettered shirts and topped my outfit off with a pair of leathered boots that nearly reached the lower part of my knees.

I was seated on my bed, looking at the rain coming down I heavy pours outside.

The wind was harsher than yesterday, nearly pulling the trees out of their roots in the ground.

“I’m glad you’re looking better than you did yesterday.” The newcomer says.

I tilt my head to look at the doorway where he currently stood leaned against, his arms were folded across his chest, and a small smile played at his mouth. He looked like he always did, dressed in a pair of black jeans, a white shirt, and a pair of his signature black combat boots. His hair was slightly gelled and combed backwards, except for a single strand over his forehead.

My eyebrows pull together in confusion as I stared at him. “What do you mean I look better than I did yesterday? Are you referring to the smeared make-up?”

“Well…” He sucks air through his lips, making a sort of hissing sound.

He says nothing else when he sits down beside me on my bed like he owns the damn thing, but the curiosity was much bigger than the urge to punch him for invading my private space like this.

“Spill it, newcomer.”

“You drank an entire bottle of whiskey yesterday night.” He says, looking smug. “I found the evidence lying on the kitchen floor this morning when I wanted to help myself to a cup of coffee.”

“Why does it sound like there’s more to it than only drinking an entire bottle of whiskey?”

“You asked me to kiss you.”

I look at him, completely horrified. “Don’t play tricks on me, newcomer.”

“I’m not, princess.”

Shit.

SHIT.

No wonder I had a big ass headache today. I only get pulsing headaches like this after I drank the previous day, so the newcomer was right, I did drink a shitload of whiskey last night, but I would have remembered asking him to kiss me. I would have remembered that. I would have, right?

“I will never ask you to kiss me.”

“Princess, I am not playing tricks on you.” The newcomer says. “You really did ask me.”

Fucking hell.

What was I thinking?

“But don’t worry,” he throws his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t kiss you.”

Although I should be relieved that I didn’t kiss the damn new recruit, I still felt my heart shrinking inside my chest, and the worst part about that feeling was that I didn’t know why.

I didn’t like the new recruit in that way, so why was I disappointed that he didn’t kiss me?

“Should I be disappointed, newcomer?” I ask, trying to hide my disappointment.

“No.” He says. “But you were right about one thing, though, drunk Raya and sober Raya really are two different people.”

“Yeah, and…?”

“When you’re drunk, you’re sweet and you don’t bite my head off. But when you’re sober, you want to kill me. And you keep glaring at me even though you don’t realize that you’re doing it.”

“Well, when I’m drunk, I don’t remember that I should hate you.”

“Funny.” He replies, running his fingers through his hair.

“So…” I start, clearing my throat awkwardly, “We didn’t kiss like at all?”

I just had to make sure.

“Nope,” he says, but then he smirks at me, “not on the lips, at least.”

My eyes widen and I shoot up from the bed to look at him. “NOT ON THE LIPS?!”

The newcomer bursts out laughing, probably at my horrified expression. “Relax, princess.” He then chuckles, clearly finding my horror about kissing him amusing. “I was just joking.”

“Oh thank God.” I release a relieved breath. “I would have gotten cooties.” I shudder, but I smile when I see him shaking his head. He was clearly not very impressed about what I said about him.

“You look prettier when you smile,” the newcomer says out of nowhere, “you should smile more often. Your eyes glow, and you are one of the few people who can smile with their eyes, too.”

My smile disappears almost immediately.

“Maybe complimenting you while you’re fighting off a hangover isn’t such a good idea.”

“Complimenting me, period, isn’t such a good idea.”

“Last time I checked, I didn’t really give a crap about your death glares or empty threats.” He gets up from the bed too, and stands centimeters away from where I was standing. He was now hovering over me, I had to look up just to look at him in his eyes. I also caught a whiff of the mint on his breath, as well as the nicotine from smoking, but it was only subtle, not intense.

“Oh, my threats aren’t empty at all.”

I plunge myself at him but he was faster than I was, grabbing my wrists with both of his hands before he pushes me straight toward the bed. I fall down against the mattress, trying to pull my wrists back from his grasp but he held onto it tightly. He also didn’t show any signs of letting go any time soon.

“Don’t make it obvious that you’re going to lunge yourself at someone. I practically saw it coming from a mile away.” He says, his mouth mere inches away from mine.

I could taste the mint on his breath.

I swallow hard, looking into piercing blue eyes.

“You should sweep their feet out from underneath them or attack without hesitation. That way you’ll catch them off guard and they would be taken aback.”

I was at loss for words.

Speechless.

All I could do was stare into his eyes with my mouth slightly agape.

His gaze flickers down to my lips and he lets go of my wrists but he still hovers above me. His eyes never leave my lips. My eyes never leave his.

I feel fluttery sensations inside my chest and a wave of pleasure floods throughout my entire body at his close proximity. My hands actually ached because I wanted nothing more than to pull him to my lips and kiss him.

I actually wanted him to kiss me right now.

“What are you doing to me, Newcomer?” I ask, completely aware that I spoke the words aloud and not in my thoughts. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

His hand lifts again and he brushes a strand of my hair away from my face, his touch sending shivers cascading down my back yet again and the wave of pleasure heightened. He tucks the strand behind my ear, but he doesn’t take his hand back, he tangles his fingers through my hair instead and pulls my face closer to his.

I could’ve stopped him.

But I didn’t.

I let him brush his lips against mine.

I let him deepen the kiss.

I opened my mouth so that he could have better access, I didn’t push him away nor did I want to push him away.

I didn’t want him to stop.

I finally cave, throwing my hands around his neck, pulling him closer than he was before. He smiles against my lips and I feel his fingers untangling from my hair so he can trace my neck’s sensitive skin with his finger.

Before I could stop myself, I throw my legs over his waist, pulling him closer. I practically pressed myself against him and I didn’t miss the bulge between us.

I moan against his lips when he bit my lip between his teeth gently.

“I told you that your body reacts to my touch.” He says against my lips.

I smirk at him when I pull away to look at him. “Nobody said that it didn’t.”

He chuckles, pulling my face closes to his yet again so that he could kiss me.

I let go of his neck, trailing my hands over his chest until it stopped by the hem of his shirt. I lift his shirt, gently tracing my fingernails over his muscled stomach. I feel the tiny bumps of goose bumps forming onto his skin, and fight back a smirk mid-kiss.

I pull away to look at him. “Look who’s the one reacting to touch now.”

“Your fingers are cold.” He says.

I smile, pulling his neck closer to my lips before I bite it, just enough for him to moan above me. I see another round of goose bumps erupting onto his skin when my teeth grazed his neck.

“Oh, really? I beg to differ.”