(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon(13)
I climb back onto the table as Angie comes hurrying back in. “I need ya to focus, Jane. This is going to be a quick reinsertion. A third time in the same girl is unheard of.” She leans forward, whispering, “And between me and you, we don’t think she’s going to make it. She’s being switched to life support. Her brain activity flashes only when yer in there. She’s a vegetable, and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to go rooting around in a dying girl.”
I give her a look. “You know it feels different this time. Like I know too much going in. So maybe it’s that she’s brain-dead, and I’m just making up the story.”
She turns back to the large mirror where everyone is watching. “Right, and I suppose having a jackarse mess with the recording because his moronic friend pointed out he’s always the bad guy doesn’t help. Does it?”
“Rory brought that to Dash’s attention?” I whisper and shake my head, looking at the glass. I’m sure my face betrays the fact I don’t understand what she means, I don’t understand why he would do that to me, he’s my partner.
She rolls her eyes. “Och, ya dinna think that Dr. Charming found that information all on his own, did ya?” She leans in, whispering so they can’t hear us. “I’ll whip Rory later for ya. He’s really just a meddling old woman in that sexy body of his.” She winks and attaches the monitors to my chest and head. “Must be some of that Irish treachery brewing in those veins.”
I swallow hard. “Why would he do that? He was the only person who knew everything.”
“Welp, I imagine he thinks he was trying to help, doesn’t want ya two to break up. Says he’s never seen either of ya so happy. Not sure what he would know on the subject, scowling bastard.”
A nervous smile crosses my lips as I lie back, wishing he’d keep his greasy paws off my damned records, but at least Dash knows the truth of it. Something Rory and his snooping won’t find in my records. I never wrote down why I made my bad guy the way I did. No one knows that Dash makes me feel safe. Well, except for Dash, thank God. The odd bit of vulnerability with him isn’t so horrid.
I close my eyes, giving a loud sigh.
5. Professor Charming
The cold air stings a bit on my nose, not frosty but windy and bitter. I close the window to suffer through the smell of hairspray in the dorm. I hate the coastline. I prefer to be inland, where the wind has less of the damp ocean in it. The cold salt water makes the very worst wind I’ve ever felt.
“You meeting him after class?” Angie asks from her bed, where she’s curling her red ringlets.
I sigh, not sure of the answer. “I guess. He’s sort of asked me to go away for the weekend.”
Her jaw drops. “What?”
I nod. “He’s got a cabin or something, a family vacation spot. It’s a few hours from here, rugged and romantic, apparently.”
“Then what’s the problem?” She gives me a dubious look.
“Something I can’t shake. He’s just too awesome. He speaks slowly, with purpose, and enunciates every word. He’s handsome in a way that makes me sweat. He’s sweet, he cares about everything I say, and remembers every tiny detail.” My eyes lower. “It’s like he isn’t real. He hasn’t even tried anything with me. He’s always a gentleman. We’ve been on like ten dates and only kissed.”
She scoffs. “Och, this is the honeymoon. All men are on their best behavior for the first year. It goes to shite then. Then it’s a quick shag and they got one eye on the football game while they do it.”
A laugh and a snort slip from my lips. “It just feels like too much for eighteen, don’t you think? He’s overwhelming for someone like me.”
She winks, dropping a curl and spraying it. “Ya know I do. I love me some intense men with obsessive qualities.” She laughs and curls another piece of hair on her wand. I know she’s talking about my brother. She likes him a lot, and he seems to think she’s charming. He just hasn’t heard one of her racist rants about the English or the Irish.
I want to say that I don’t like men who are that way, but instead I just make a mental note to break things off this weekend if he doesn’t chill out.
At the end of the day, class drags on. The teacher actually sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher. The name Charlie Brown sits funny in my mind. I can’t seem to make out his face, but I know it’s a cartoon. I just don’t know where I’ve seen it before.
As it ends and I make my way out of the building, I see him. He’s leaned against a tree, smiling at me like a cat watching a mouse. He makes me nervous, and regardless of the obvious attraction I have for him, I can’t stop feeling uncertain around him.