DRAWN (2 page)

Lace and I have been best friends since first grade. Our friendship is born of destiny, forged mostly by a teacher’s tendency to have smaller kids bunched together in front of the class.

          “Do you know Yuki Himura has been looking for you?” she asks when she reaches my side.

           “Really?” I pretend to rummage for something inside my bag. Trying to shake off a stalking pseudo-angel-slash-devil-in-disguise has been exhausting. I’ve been hiding from him since this morning’s Freudian slip, and it hasn’t been easy. He seems to have set the school’s entire student population to hunt me down.

          “I heard from Royce and even Christy from my Music class.”

          I have to change the topic or Lace is going to know the truth, which I’m definitely not ready for. And with Lace, the best way to distract her is to talk about her
only
obsession. “Do you know about the latest trade with the Celtics?”

          She gasps. “You heard about it, too?” My strategy works and Lace happily starts talking about guys I don’t know and stats I can’t understand as we make our way to our History class.

          When the school bell rings for the last time today, I jump out of my seat and aim straight for the door.

          “Why are you in a hurry?” Lace asks with a yawn while rubbing her eyes. In her sports-dominated mind, everything that’s not part of Phys. Ed. immediately classifies as naptime.

          “Sorry, Lace!” I say over my shoulder, bent on being the first one to get through the door. “I got a call from home…some kind of emergency!”

          Another very important lesson I got from my dad is how important it is to listen to your instincts. And right now, it’s telling me I have to leave. Soon. Or else.

I need to get away from Yuki Himura, need to plan what I’m going to say and how I’m going to act if he manages to corner me. Tension puts my nerves in a snappy and jumpy state as I practically shoulder my way to the school’s main doors. All the while, I keep waiting for the rumors to explode, for people to start snickering as I pass them by but nothing happens. Even so, the strange feeling of urgency doesn’t leave me. I can’t help picturing my very own blind item feature in the Immaculate Heart Tattler, our school’s unofficial web tabloid, a lame version of Gossip Girls meet Perez Hilton.

From nerd to pervert

Junior KC “comes” for heartthrob transfer student YH

          I shudder at the thought, and I am so caught up at the vileness of it that I forget to see where I’m going. I bump into a wall of toned muscles and look up.

          Yuki Himura smiles down at me, and the gleam I glimpsed earlier is still in his eyes.

          I make a 360 turn right away, but his hand falls on my nape – and stays there.

“Not so fast,
senpai
.” I hear some girls around me tittering. Yuki is known for interweaving Japanese words of niceties in his conversation. I used to think it’s cute of him, in a patriotic kind of way, but now I think it is all part of his fool-everyone-with-his-fake-nice-boy-persona agenda.

          He turns me around to face him. “I’ve been looking all over for you,
senpai
.”

         
Senpai,
if I recall correctly, is an honorary term you use when referring to someone older or someone you want to show respect for. I’m pretty sure it’s not the latter in my case.

          “You have?” I try to look amazed, but I know I’ve failed when I see that evil little gleam in his big blue eyes become even brighter.

          “There’s something I have to speak with you about, you see.”

          Bloody hell.

          He’s going to blackmail me.

          I clear my throat, trying to give myself time to think up an excuse.

         
There’s absolutely no need to panic
, I insist to myself even though every logical and intuitive part of me strongly disagrees. He’s a
junior.
I’m a senior. That has to mean something.

          Besides, Ms. Saunders didn’t even hear me moan – I mean call – Yuki’s name.

         
He has no proof.

          I square my shoulders to do battle, just as Yuki bends close, his sudden proximity crushing my courage in an instant.

          My instincts whisper another message to my brain.

          They’re saying…I’m so
dead.

          Stupid instincts. I don’t care what my dad says. I’m never going to listen to them again.

          No one – and I mean
no one
– is moving in the hallway. I wish I’m imagining the horrid, silent, stillness in the hallway, but I’m not. Everyone wants to know why perfect, beautiful, godly Yuki Himura wants to talk to Immaculate Heart Academy’s residential
nice girl.
Not wimpy-nice, not idiotic-nice, but saintly, virginal, forever on a blasted pedestal
nice.
The kind that you never invite to cool, secret house parties, the kind that guys don’t steal a kiss from because it’s sure to feel like they’re snogging their granny.

I’m that kind of nice.

Yuki’s soft, long fingers encircle my neck, his voice tickling my ear as he whispers, “I know I have no proof of what happened this morning.”

          Bloody, bloody hell.

          Why couldn’t he be stupid? It’s unfair for someone this gorgeous to be smart, too.

          “But you know what?”

I don’t have to see him to sense Yuki’s angelic smile. How could all of us have been so blind not to realize that this guy is…so…evil?

Yuki bends closer and now I’m not sure if his lips are actually touching my ear or I’m just imagining it. Doesn’t really matter either way, though. My body’s reacting, and I have to dig my heels into the floor so I won’t accidentally sway. To him.

“They’ll still believe me anyway if I told them that you tried coming on to me.”

He exhales just the tiniest bit after the last word, the air coming out from his mouth turning into an invisible caress. It’s deliberate, wicked, and effective.

          I feel my underwear slowly getting wet.

I Am Such A Slut.

          When Yuki straightens, he looks at my face, and the intensity of his gaze is enough for heat to infuse my cheeks. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time, and he’s memorizing every flawed detail. This close, he’s probably noticed how the tips of my shoulder-length reddish brown hair flip up the wrong way or how my green eyes seem too big for my cat-like triangular face. Or maybe he’s noticed how pale I am, which is embarrassing since I’ve lived next to Florida’s beaches all my life.

          Shifting on my feet, I’m uncomfortably aware of how the silk between my thighs has just gotten wetter. Yuki doesn’t say anything, but I have this nasty feeling he knows exactly what’s going on in my mind – and with my body. He’s like a secret weapon commissioned by Japanese and Russian forces to break the heart of every American girl.

          Yuki’s gaze travels down. I’m wearing the same uniform all the other girls here have on, black blazer with the requisite school brooch, white buttoned-up blouse, wool skirt, knee-high socks, and Mary Janes. But the way he’s staring at me makes me feel like I’m draped in a gauzy Victoria’s Secret creation, and the way his gaze lingers on places he has no business staring at just makes me dig my heels harder into the ground.

          Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

          This guy is good.

          Actually, he’s more than good. He’s a pro, and he knows
exactly
what his gaze is doing to me.

          “You know I didn’t do anything like that.” I finish with a furious whisper, remembering a little too late that everyone is still gawking at us and shamelessly trying to eavesdrop.

          He shrugs, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “It doesn’t matter at this point, does it?”

          That’s true.

          Blast it.

          “What exactly do you want from me?”

          Yuki looks at me as if he’s stunned and hurt by my suspicious tone. “I just have a question about the test a while ago,
senpai
.” He speaks a little louder this time, enough for everyone else to hear him, clear their minds, and breathe a sigh of relief.

          Yuki Himura is not falling for smart, plain, and impossibly nice KC Chariot. He just has something to ask about a test. The world in Immaculate Heart Academy is fine again, and everyone starts moving, talking, laughing.

          “The test,” I say blankly. Is this for real?

“We’ve got
Chemistry
together, remember?”

Blast it, it’s just my luck to go up against the king of comeback lines.

“Is it okay then?”

“Fine. Whatever.” I fumble for my Chemistry book inside my bag, but he stops me by grabbing my wrist. I look up just as his hold tightens. His thumb suddenly traces slow and tiny circles on my palm, and I bite back a gasp.

How can I be so turned on with something that simple?

I can’t help glaring at him this time, annoyed at him and myself for the confusing, churning emotions inside of me.

“Why not let me take you out instead,
senpai
? I know just the place we can enjoy great food while discussing today’s test.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer as he drags me with him, still firmly holding my wrist, and his thumb still playing havoc with my senses.

People start talking again as we walk past them. The whispers follow us even as we reach the parking lot, now half-empty. One of the kids smoking near the School Zone sign nearly swallows his cigarette when he sees us walking together.

I mentally revise my blind item feature on the school paper.

Cinderella KC and Prince Charming YH: Happily ever after or it’s never gonna happen?

         
Never gonna happen,
I tell myself grimly. No matter what, I mustn’t let him get the better of me. America is a free country and it’s my right to, umm, fantasize about whoever I want.

          But all my bravado disappears when we reach his ride. I’ve never shared a ride with a guy who doesn’t have the same last name that I do.     

As Yuki releases me to take his car keys out of his pocket, I try to turn around and leave, hoping to catch him by surprise.

Yuki easily captures my wrist and spins me back to his side. “Come on,
senpai
, we’ve gotten this far already.”

          “Why can’t you just tell me---”

          “After you get inside the car,” Yuki says firmly. “Relax,
senpai
, you’re completely safe with me.”

          And if I’m
without
him? What then?

          I eye Yuki’s car with trepidation, a black shiny BMW whose exact model presently escapes me.

We reach for the passenger handle at the same time, and our hands touch. Electricity shoots through my skin and my head jerks up in surprise. Didn’t that only happen in movies?

Our eyes meet once more, and it’s obvious he’s startled, too.

He lets out a chuckle. “What do you know,
senpai
? We really do have chemistry.”

He opens the door for me and I get inside, feeling like I should write a goodbye note like suicidal folks do.

To My Beloved Reputation,

It was good while it lasted.

It’s not you, it’s me.

Love,

Katerina KC Chariot

I know there’s no turning back after this, but I’m not even sure I want to turn anything back. I’m totally at a loss at what I should be thinking or feeling. All I’m sure of is that mere seconds from now I’m about to be
this
close to the guy I’ve been fantasizing for
months
.

And he knows my secret.

I mustn’t forget that.

Tension attacks my body as Yuki gets inside the car next to me. The sound of his door slamming shut sounds eerily like the last nail in my coffin.

Yuki car’s is spacious inside, with gorgeous cream and wood paneling. It doesn’t smell like vomit, beer, or cigarettes, which I hear are pretty popular scents when it comes to cars driven by high school guys. And it’s
neat.
Like brand-new neat. Unfortunately, all those nice things about his car sort of blend into obscurity as my senses become acutely aware of how close the object of my recent fantasies is.

“So,” Yuki drawls.

Forcing myself to look at him, I do my best to imitate his casual, I’m-so-cool-I’m-not-bothered-by-anything drawl as I say the same. “
So…”

He grins.

Strangely enough, the sight of it makes me want to throw up. The reality of what happened – is happening – finally crashes on me.

He knows.

Yuki’s next words prove it. “So,
senpai,
how long have you been thinking about having sex with me?”