Undercover Badge; Next Generation

Chapter eight

"No! I am sick of everyone in our family being obsessed with h-" Joey started. Matthew cut him off. "-having morals and values?" he snapped quickly. He sent Joey a specifically pointed look and the younger brother also began to steam at the ears. But with the full, pouty lips and Zack Efron hair, he was not the menace his brother was.

Matthew's square jaw ticked again. "I'm done with this argument. You're going to do it; not because of our 'family morals'," he said it like that too- like it was air quoted and capitalised. Family Morals. "But because you're a man and you are going to do what's right." Matthew's voice came out hard, and the words themselves spoke of the All American Good-Guy he was on paper, but the anger in his eyes and in his jaw showed the darker, scarier malice underneath.

"Make. Me." Joey's jaw locked after the words and I realized that despite the obvious differences, the boys were clearly brothers. The ticks in their jaws almost beat in sync.

Matthew's eyes flashed- they flicked open wider for a fraction of a second before they narrowed into a dangerous glare. He reached out and grabbed Joey by the scruff with his left hand and roughly gave a pull just to get Joey closer and in his grip firmly. That was when Mathew's eyes flickered up and he scanned the halls. And....

And, well. Caramel collided with hazel green. The fear that had been hiding in the ice cool pins and needles feeling that had been doing the Can-Can up and down my spinal chord suddenly stretched long, icy fingers to seize my ribs and squeeze. That, I knew, was the feeling of adrenalin. That moment when you drop your phone in a toilet cubicle and for a second, parts of your body go ice cold in the fear that it would make a watery descent into the John. That was adrenalin taking hold of your cells and causing them to freak out. That moment when you think you lost your keys, or when you see a particularly heinous spider an inch from your nose or a clown approaching in a dark ally. I knew the words for these fears; Arachnophobia and Caulrophobia.

But I did not know the word for the fear of Matthew Dyllan Cavalier.

At any rate he looked at me and Goosebumps broke out in the tops of my arms- hair standing on end and making the skin there hyper aware. So much so that the supremely baggy candy-apple red hoodie hurt as it hung off my frame. The sleeves had been pushed up to my elbows, so my forearms were free to prickle in peace.

My molars clicked together and to my ears it sounded deafening.

And then Mathew Cavalier, dragging his idiot brother by the collar, stopped three feet from me, eyes still locked on mine. He released Joey and grunted the word "Talk." without disconnecting the terrifying hold his eyeballs had while staring down at me from that impressive stature.

They were gorgeous. Framed by pitch black lashes. For the first time ever, I could really look at his face. The stubble was enough to make women delirious. If I dragged my nails across it I knew it'd feel sandpapery- but it wasn't long enough to be scratchy, just enough to graze fingertips or skin. And the dark shadow combined with the slight olivey tone to his flesh... it was painfully well orchestrated. The lips that were full enough to entice and masculine enough to fit his character, the little scar, ever so much lighter than skin.

A flush of hot blood splashed up my neck and into my cheeks with the uncanny urge to kiss that lip and trace that scar with the tip of my tongue. But the fear held its firm grip on my airways. Matthew was so beautiful it broke down your defenses, but he was so dangerous that the fear of him would never be broken down. So fascinated was I by his face that I hadn't noticed the six long, slow seconds of dead silence. Not until Matthew's brow suddenly furrowed and the corner of his lips turned down to a quizzical scowl and he turned his head to look at Joey. He cuffed Joey again and shoved him a bit forward before crossing perfectly flexed arms, seemingly unimpressed with the boy's mutinous silence.

I looked at Joey.

He glared directly into my eyes. He really and truly hated me. I could see it in the slight curl that marred his upper lip and the way his knuckles had gone white with the skin pulled taught over the bone from tightly flexed hands.
"Fine." he grunted.
"I. Am. Sorry." Each word was precise but somehow slurred, as if his mouth wished to recoil from saying them. I blinked. Watching the malice in his face... it took away all the spite I had that was aimed toward him. I had no idea what I had done to warrant such a look... but something about it made me cold to the marrow in my bones. I wished my necklace was around my neck. I needed to hold the emerald in my palm to feel better.

"That's fine." I murmured quietly. "I know it was just a prank, I forgive you." I said it oddly fast, like a run-on statement.

"Great." he turned his head and hissed towards his brother the words "Are you going to go HOME now?" and then stomped off in the other direction, just as the bell rang. Matthew shoved both hands through his hair. It was clear he was in turmoil (and that he had to be in a gym because, oh my God, the delicious definition on display).

I felt ridiculously self conscious. Today my hair was a mane. Long blond hair going curly. The jeans I wore were black and about as tight as they could go to contrast the hanging hoodie, and I'd worn sneakers to break the monotony of my boot fetish. It was not a special outfit, and for the first time, I wished I'd put in some effort. I quickly pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and ran my own hand through my hair.

"I'm sorry about him." I looked up from where my fingers had gotten tangled in a knot all the way at the ends of my hair over my right shoulder. Matthew Cavalier was speaking to me.

"Why?" I blurted. He blinked twice and cocked his head at me like a curios bird. "Because... because I am?" he responded, and perplexing emotions had danced in the appearing wrinkles on his forehead. But the deep tone in his rich and luxurious voice- it was dark chocolate. It was burgundy wine. To me it was sexy, and that was very, very dangerous.

"Don't be. You have plenty to be sorry for in your own life, not his." and then I grabbed Ingrid and bolted as the second bell sounded, knowing full well the rest of the students would be later to the class. I only realized then what I had said; and for some reason I hoped he had understood the words the way I meant them rather than how they'd ended up sounding.

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