The Coldest Summer✓

Thirteen

What the heck! I can't believe he's so childish. Or could it be that he's jealous of his best friend? An apprehension makes me frantic, delirious even, of the possible reason behind his reaction.

"Are you jealous?" I shout enough for him to hear, and he halts by the door.

What have I done?

Swallowing hard, I watch Liam taking his steps back gaily, and finally standing before me. Oh God! The masquerade on his face refuses to let go of whatever's on his mind, and I'm dying to hear something . . . anything.

"You're something else," he breathes, shaking his head to the sides. And then he starts laughing as though there's something funny on my face.

"Why are you laughing?" My grip is tight around the mug, prelibation filled in my eyes.

"You're clumsy," he says while getting even closer, eyes fixed intensely on mine. He's menacing, deliberately playing with the pace of my heartbeat. "Pretty and clumsy, Ms. Jones. What a perilous combination, huh?"

Oh God! I need to move but I can't.

"P-pretty? How—'' I pause when he leans towards my face, making my breath slow its pace as he holds my face.

What is he doing? I gulp.

Liam keeps his mouth shut for a good while, amusement flashing through his smile as he holds his gaze firmly on my lips.

"No, you're like a baby," he suddenly whispers, and his thumb reaches the corner of my mouth, gently, his lips so near mine. Damn! "You've got cream on your lips; only kids do this." His voice is torturous, his gaze ardent.

I breathe erratically, feeling his thumb wiping my mouth. His lips . . . Oh, his lips drive me nuts. Do I want to kiss him? I think I do. Is it okay, though? It's certainly not.

"I . . . I didn't notice," I say softly, my blood thrumming vehemently at the sudden shift of my body temperature.

Am I getting hot?

"And yet you can notice that I'm jealous?" Liam mocks—both his eyes and voice do. He gently, provokingly, licks his thumb that's smeared with cream from my lips.

Jesus! My mind imagines nothing but sultriness as he does it.

"Well, you . . . you just lashed at me without any reason.'' I can feel the quiver of my lips, trembling in a strange design.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I did?" Liam smiles, and it's wild. "Yes, I am jealous. It makes me mad when you smile too bright at another man," he says.

Oh God, I need urgent help! Somebody please call 911.

"Huh?" I gulp, wide-eyed, and he laughs delightedly.

What the heck?

"Is that what you wanted to hear, Ms. Jones?" he mocks me again, looking amused by the reaction I give.

Damn it! He wasn't serious? I'm probably curling my lips into a pout.

"Make sure you sleep early tonight. You look tired," he states seriously, and I nod like a docile kid. "Goodnight, Ms. Jones." He breezes through the door, leaving me all puzzled.

Is he playing with me? Testing me? Why is he doing this? I huff, completely in defeat. Why is it exciting, too, despite the odds? I laugh stupidly.

However, when Dr. Snape's last words repeat in my head I quickly wipe off my laughter.

What is it that you're feeling for him, Kira?

"I don't know, and I don't care!" I blurt out, a sudden panic engulfing me. Why should I beat myself up over this, huh? No, I'd rather go in my room and sleep.

It's exactly what I do after finishing the coffee.

An annoying vibration wakes me up some time later. It's my damn phone. It's still dark as I pitch a glance through the window. I grab the phone from the bedside table without a bother to move myself from the warm covers.

Calling at night should be illegal! I growl inside as I struggle to keep myself awake. My eyes squint at the light beaming on the screen. Ugh! I lazily pick up the call from whomever.

"Hello?" My face wrinkle at this act of utter disturbance.

"Good morning, little professor," a male voice utters merrily.

Wait! I know this voice. I sit up immediately.

"Um . . ." My eyes flash open as I peek at the screen.

It's a foreign number and I can bet a hundred bucks that it's Malik.

"Hey, Kira, are you there?" he asks, and it confirms my guess.

"Malik? How did you—''

"Get your number?" Malik finishes for me. "Hey, Professor, have you forgotten that you personally gave it to me?" He is laughing.

Did I? I consult my memory box.

"When? I don't remember doing such a thing, Malik!" I shift into a more comfortable posture, my back onto the pair of pillows.

He's obviously playing tricks with my memory, which thus far has been serving me fairly well.

"At the wedding. You don't remember?" he asks, and I try my best to recall. "Professor, maybe you should stop drinking for good now."

"No?'' Honestly I don't remember, and it's quite rare for me to black out my memory, if never at all.

"Oh, Professor!" Malik laughs even more, and I nearly roll my eyes.

"Alright, let's say I did. Now what do you want, Malik? I guess you understand what time it is, and how important sleeping is, at least for a normal human." I rub my eyes, yawning.

"Well, yeah, and forgive me for this little disturbance," Malik says softly. "I can't reach Liam and I'd very much appreciate it if you'd tell him to immediately check his emails, if possible," he urges and for a moment I grasp a hint of seriousness in the tone of his voice.

"Who, me?" I feel alarmed.

"Yes, Professor. You're the only one who can help."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now," he says. "Can you do it, please? It's very important. He usually leaves his phone on, but I wonder what happened today."

What's so important that can't wait till morning?

I sigh heavily and answer, "Okay, let me go and check him." Like seriously, why do I have to meet him in the middle of the night? I just sigh.