Beacon in the Darkness

11. Undertow

"For starters. And then I want you to bow down and kiss my feet."

For all that's good and holy did she just say kiss? Oh, don't tempt me, Mila. Hell. He really had to stop thinking like that!

Shawn moved the hand he held against the cool metal lockers closer to her head and leaned in until his face hovered just in front of hers. "You know, you're too damn smug for your own good."

"You're one to talk." Camila smirked and he grinned back. "I brought you something," she said, holding a small white box out to him.

He furrowed his brows and took the box, standing entirely too close to her, he knew, but unable to muster the strength to move away. "What's this?"

"Just something I promised you." She slipped under his arm, brushing against him before she walked backward a few paces into the crowded hallway. "See ya later, Grumpyhead." As she whipped around, he heard her giggle.

Reaching up, he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a fistful, willing his heart to slow and his mind to quit thinking inappropriate thoughts about her. He watched her make her way down the hall for a moment before peering back to the box in his hand. Pinching his brows together, he slipped the lid off. As he stared at what was inside, he shook his head and chuckled. How she did it he'd never know, but she never ceased to amaze him. Nestled snugly in the tissue paper padding, lay a tiny, silver bell threaded with a shiny red ribbon.

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The first part of Shawn's morning hadn't been too awful—except for the lingering headache and the annoying cheerleader-type girl that kept hanging all over him. Normally, he would have liked that kind of attention, but lately, he just wasn't all that interested. After scamming a couple of Tylenol from Lauren, the pain in his head had lessened enough for him to think straight. Although his brain still felt fuzzy and slow. He hoped it would be completely gone before the scrimmage that afternoon.

After receiving the letter from his father and the conversation with Camila, his mind had worked overtime and he'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep the night before. He woke up in the morning feeling like he'd been run over by a train, and pretty much looking like it, too. As much as that sucked, he figured at least maybe his less than stellar appearance would keep Alexandria off his back. Unfortunately, that was not the case, so there he sat, smooshed between her and one of the other starting forwards at the round lunch table.

He picked at his lunch, not really listening to any of the conversations around him, and sneaking peeks across the room to where Camila sat with his sister and that dorky dark-haired boy—Michael, he thought his name was. Not that he cared.

Alexandria chattered endlessly about a number of inane subjects to which he couldn't have cared less. He pretended to listen by muttering a number of "mmm hmm's" and "uh huh's". She apparently didn't notice that he never looked at her because she went on and on for what seemed like forever.

He was vaguely aware that she kept touching his arm possessively, wrapping her fingers tightly around his bicep and stroking the length of his forearm with her red-polished fingernails. He kind of wanted her to stop but couldn't find the energy it would take to tell her so. So, he let her continue. It wasn't like it didn't feel good. And if he closed his eyes, he could just pretend it was someone else's fingers on him.