Page 13 of Scarred King
“Why don’t you let your hair down out of that braid?” Mike brings his hand closer toward my head and I jump back, startled. He doesn’t seem to notice the turbulence his action caused me, and continues. “If you let your hair down and change those jeans and T-shirt, you could be really popular around here.” He stands up in front of me. “And you could work in my place and make some real money, not the pennies you make here.”
“Mike, that’s enough.” Angelface says firmly.
Mike run his hand through his red hair and walks around me. “At least let her come and see my club,” he says and keeps on walking. “I’ve got a feeling that she could be the life of the party.” He opens the large door and it slams closed behind him.
“Right, I’m going back to my kingdom as well.” Tommy rubs his red eyes and stands up. “They’ve wasted too much time dancing. It's time for some action.” He yawns and goes upstairs.
I clear their bottles and go back to my waitressing duties. Men come and go and this continues until the early hours of the morning. I don’t feel tired until the last customer has left and then I lay my head down on the bar.
“Coast’s clear!” the bouncer calls from the entrance and the girls leave, one by one. Charlie also leaves, but I’m finding it hard to get up off the barstool. Maybe I’ll close my eyes, just for five minutes.
“Elena.” I feel someone touching and shaking my shoulder gently and I open my eyes. Angelface looks at me with a smile. “I didn’t realize that you were still here.”
“It’s OK,” I say, stretching my arms. “I took a little nap, just for five minutes.”
“I think it might have been a bit longer.” He looks at his watch and I pull his wrist toward me, crying out, shocked.
“I have class in an hour.” I jump off the stool and look for my bag behind the bar. “It’s an important class, with my professor,” I'm mumbling, stressed out. “I have to go home first… call me a taxi….”
“I’ll take you.” He pulls the bag from me and marches outside.
I follow him, overwhelmed with thoughts. Where will he take me? I don’t know him at all. I don’t think I want him to know where I live. And I’m really not comfortable with him invading my private space.
“Maybe you should just call me a taxi.” I walk faster to match his steps.
“Nonsense,” he says dismissively. This way you’ll have time to change clothes and I’ll take you to the university.
“You’d wait in my house?” I ask, terrified.
“I can wait for you outside.” He laughs, and for some reason his laugh calms me. He stops in front of a massive black motorcycle and I’m shocked by the unexpected intimacy that this ride will force me into.
“Come on.” He pats the leather seat and I shake my head no.
“Scared of motorcycles?” he asks teasingly.
“Not at all.” I try to imitate his tone.
“Scared of me?” he asks, not teasing at all this time.
“I don’t think so.” Even I'm surprised by my honesty.
“I didn’t think that you’re the type of girl that would let a few scars bother her.” He takes my hand and places it on the scarred side of his face. I am so close to him and all I can see is the angelic side, which makes my stomach clench in excitement. “See?” he slides my hand over his cheek. “Just a few harmless scars.”
“Thirteen,” I pull my hand away and sit on the motorcycle.
“What?” he asks confused.
“Thirteen scars. They don’t scare me; they just annoy me.”
He gives me the helmet and I put it over my head.
“I have a problem with asymmetry,” I say sharply and he bursts out laughing. His laughter is contagious and I join him.
“I see. Well, it seems that every genius has some craziness in them,” he says and places my hands on his hips. He starts driving and I yell out my address.
“I know,” he says and drives faster.
My thin shirt is sticking to my skin and the fact that we’re separated by only two pieces of fabric is driving me crazy. I can’t even recite formulas. Every time he takes a curve I have to hold on tighter and a strange and unfamiliar feeling spreads down my back, to my stomach and between my thighs. His muscular back caresses my chest with every move and sends shivers down my body. Wait, my exhaustion must be getting to me. After all, it’s impossible that I, who always says that I could only be physically attracted to someone who challenges me intellectually, waiting now impatiently for another curve in the road so that I feel tingles all over my body from a touch of a man who represents everything I despise in life. I force myself to loosen my hold on him a little and allow the light breeze to cool my body. He stops in front of my building and I get off the motorcycle and stand before him.