DRAWN (19 page)

Every time Yuki doesn’t act like the devil I know he is, I’d have this insane urge to hug him and say how so bloody sorry I am he has a nutty Wisteria Lane mom who feels like she has to compete with her own son for Akito-san’s attention.

          Feeding myself with another spoonful of yogurt, I take several deep breaths, pushing the depressing thoughts away and refocusing on Yuki’s so called request. It would be abso-bloody-lutely stupid to let this kind of opportunity go.

         
Just as I start typing a text message for Yuki, I hear a hatefully familiar voice saying his name.

          Oh, shite.

          It’s – please, let it not be, oh, shite, it really is – Amelia.

          “Can I join you, guys? I don’t have any space in our table.”

          I bite my spoon hard.

          Lately, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore how absurdly jealous I get every time a girl tries to flirt with Yuki. I mean, I have to be used to it, right? I’d be such a jealous arse to blame Yuki for being the god that he is.

          Yuki nods, saying something with a friendly smile.

          But still, it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

          As Amelia pushes him to the side, forcing the other guy at the end to switch seats if he doesn’t want to fall out of it, Yuki’s eyes meet mine.

         
I’m so irresistible,
his baby blues tell me.

         
Piss off,
I hope mine says.

         
“Oh my gosh, your mashed potato looks so delish.”

          Really? Mashed potato, really? That’s the best she can do?

          She smacks her lips. “I’d love to have a taste of it.”

          Yuki murmurs something, pushing his plate toward Amelia, still smiling.

          Amelia opens her mouth.

          Yuki blinks.

          I blink.

          No freaking way.

          I am so not letting him feed Ameli-ho.

          As Yuki slowly reaches for his spoon, I grab my phone and start texting. It’s my fastest typing speed, ever.

         
WATCH ME.

          Yuki’s phone beeps just as he lifts the spoon toward Amelia’s mouth. The spoon stays mid-air, leaving Amelia’s mouth hanging open while Yuki checks his phone. His eyes widen.

          “I’m waiting,” Amelia trills.

          Yuki puts the spoon down.

          Amelia’s mouth snaps shut. “You’re not in the mood to share anymore?”

          “Uhh…” Yuki tries to get a direct line of sight toward me, but Amelia keeps blocking him.

          I text him again.

          NOW OR NEVER.

          Yuki reads the message.

          “Who’s texting you?” Amelia asks. I think she’s trying to sound sweet, but it just comes out shrill and angry.

          Yuki cranes his neck, but it’s hard to see past Amelia’s top-of-the-head ponytail.

          I part my legs just as Yuki loses patience and practically pushes Amelia away.

          His eyes widen even more.

          Black silk.

          Amelia turns around in her seat and I snap my legs shut just in time.

Yeeargh!

          Did I really just do that?

          The knowledge that I really did, just now, is excruciating. I try to drown my embarrassment by gobbling down the rest of my yogurt with as much haste as I can, conscious all the while of Amelia’s suspicious gaze on me. I feel like I have to hang myself. I still can’t believe I had my legs open like a clam for two bloody seconds. Gah! I want to hide myself away. Wait, I
can
hide myself away – in the school library. No one who wants to be cool or
is
cool will ever go to the library for lunch break.

          My phone buzzes just as I reach the library, which is as empty as a ghost house. With its dreary frame-less fluorescent lighting, monastery-like architecture, and shuttered windows, it just lacks some cobwebs – perhaps a ghost or two as well - and it can probably start charging for Halloween.

          Grabbing a couple of graphic novels from the shelves, I take a seat at one of the tables near the
fiction
section. I’m so going to donate some much-needed
manga
to this place when I get published. I take my phone out from my pocket when it makes another beep.

You have me hard, senpai.

I’m coming for you.

         
Oh, for the love of---

          “I’m still hard,
senpai
,” a soft, silky voice says behind me, making me start in my seat since I haven’t heard the tiniest squeak to let me know he’s close.

          Bloody
ninja
god!

          My stupid, silly, stubborn heart ba-thumps like crazy as Yuki slides into the seat beside me.

          “H-how the bloody heck did you find me?”

          “I followed you,” he says simply. His arm snakes under my school blazer and around my waist, tightening, branding me with the heat from his body, and just like that I’m his toy again.

          “S-someone might see,” I say shakily, but we both know what I really mean is
convince me some more.

          Yuki’s eyes gleam. “Actually,
senpai
, I’m under the impression that you chose this
exact
place because you know we won’t be seen---” His voice drops a notch lower. “---which means we won’t be interrupted either.”

          Oh, the mind boggles at what he thinks we may do that
mustn’t
be interrupted. “I didn’t think anything like that.” It’s the 100% truth, but my hoarse voice makes it sound like a sexy, delicious lie.

          “Then perhaps your subconscious?” His fingers slowly lift my blouse up, just enough for his fingers to graze against bare skin.

          I tense. I can’t help it.

          Yuki grabs one of the novels, grimacing when he sees Jace’s name on the cover.

          “Be nice. He hasn’t really done anything to you.”

          Yuki doesn’t say anything, but he pushes the book away and reaches for one of the editions of The Uncanny X-Men. “I like the classics,” he says almost defensively.

          “Yu-
kiii
.” What starts as a warning ends as a bitten back moan because his hands have started to move and are now shaping the cups of my bra, with the kind of exquisite slowness and thoroughness you’d expect from a finalist in Project Runway – the
lingerie
edition.

          Yuki doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look up from the novel as his fingers continue its exploration. He plays with the skin just above the outer rims of the cups, and it’s all I can do not to rip off his clothes and shag him on the floor.

          “Look at the book just as I am doing,
senpai
.”

          So I do, and I try not to gasp as his fingers dip inside my bra.

          “Look,
senpai
, but think of what I’m doing, think of how it feels.”

          “Yuki, no!” If I think of it any harder, I’m going to have an orgasm with or without his help.

          His baby blues gleam and he doesn’t even pretend
not
to understand what I’m talking about. “Yes.” And as if to emphasize his point, he twists a tip between his fingers, pulling gently, rolling it softly then twisting it again, harder this time.

          My body goes weak.

         
I
go weak, and I would have fallen off my seat if Yuki’s arm hasn’t turned into a band of steel around me, keeping me upright while his fingers don’t stop playing.

          “Are you ready,
senpai
?”

          “Yuki,” I plead, even if I’m not exactly sure what I want him to do. Stop? Do it some more? Take us to a faraway place where we can get naked and bonk each other’s brains out?

          His fingers move to the other side, and his entire hand completely covers me, shaping, cupping, just before his fingers reach its target, pulling, rolling, twisting and then doing the same thing over and over until I’m a complete senseless mess.

          “Now,
senpai.
” He bends his head toward me, nudging my hair away so he can bite the skin of my neck just as the softest skin of my body mold into his hands and his fingers pull, so roughly it’s absolute bliss.

          Minutes pass, and I’m still trying to catch my breath. Yuki just stares at me with an angelic smile, his eyes gleaming while he plays with my hair.

          He says softly, “Do you know that only 5% of women are capable of reaching an orgasm with just brea---”

          “Piss off.”

          “You’re welcome,
senpai
.”

          Yuki is practically humming. His mood is
that
good. And it’s too bloody cute, blast it. I guess I have to be glad I’m the only one who can see this side of him.       

          Yuki caresses my cheek. “You’re so sexy,
senpai
.”

I’ve heard that guys tend to be
more
agreeable than usual during the, err, post-coital period so right now is probably also the best time I should tell him that little something I’ve been keeping to myself.

          “Yuki?”

          “Yes,
senpai
?”  

          “So, I don’t want you to freak out, because this is going to sound a lot worse than it really is, and I just want you to be really cool about this because it’s just not going to be as bad as you think---”

          Yuki stops playing with my hair and his baby blues zero into me like a perfectly accurate lie detector. “Spill it,
senpai
.”

          “I’m…going to Miami for the weekend and Jace and my agent will be with me because we have a writer’s workshop and conference to attend.”

“Say that again please,
senpai
,” Yuki says in his most polite voice, which means I’m in trouble.

          “I’m going to Miami for the weekend and Jace and my agent will be with me because we have a writer’s workshop and conference to attend.” I get all the words out in record speed, maybe two, three seconds max.

          Yuki smiles, so I start to smile back, relieved that he’s going to be perfectly reasonable like a god.

          “NO.”

          I take it back. He’s going to be perfectly
unreasonable
about this, after all, just like a god, too.

          “Be reasonable, Yuki. It’s for my work.”

          “I
am
being reasonable. If you go, I’ll beat him up. If you don’t go, I don’t beat him up.” His smile turns even more angelic as his eyes burn. “You will be reasonable, too, won’t you,
senpai
?”

          The school bell signaling the end of lunch break prevents me from explaining about how different our interpretations are of the word ‘reasonable’. It’s probably lost in translation or something like that.

          “We’ll talk about this later,” I say.

          Yuki pulls the chair for me like a perfectly fake gentleman. “Let’s
not
argue about this,
senpai
.” Just as we’ve practiced, Yuki walks two paces ahead of me, and I follow behind. So far, this little tactic of ours has kept other kids from school talking about us in one sentence.

          “We’re not arguing,” I argue.

          Okay, that may have come out wrong so I’m going to start again. Keeping my eyes on the floor, I mutter, “We’re just going to discuss
why
you have nothing to worry about.”

          His laughter has a bitter feel that I don’t like. “Oh, trust me,
senpai
, no one’s that good. Not even you.”

When we meet up at the diner after school, Yuki refuses to even listen.

“Yuki, the only way you can stop me from going is if you tell me that you’re
jealous
.” Yes, I know I’m pushing it. That’s the point, actually. He either admits he’s jealous or he lets me go. How much would you care to bet I’m heading to Miami this Saturday with Jace?

On second thought, I’d rather not hear the answer to that.

I look at him challengingly. “Are you jealous?”

Yuki’s upper lip actually curls.

It’s my first time to see his lofty-god face, and I’m distracted, mesmerized, and thrilled all at the same time. I am so bet-your-arse going to draw that.

          “I am not jealous.”

          Oh, oh, and that voice!

          He sounds exactly like a – I think hard for a moment – oh, yeah, he sounds like a British uppity duke, which makes me the – I think hard again because English aristocracy rarely features in
shoujo manga
– oh, oh, I get it. He’s the snobby duke, I’m the shy debutante, fluttering my lashes over my feathered fan---