Chapter 6

Cassandra

"I can't believe that this is really happening, Tarra. I'm officially starting high school today!" I exclaim as I unbuckle my seat belt and get out of my sister's small car. I may be small, but I like bigger vehicles. One day, when I'm allowed to drive, I plan on getting a truck of some sort.

Tarra's hazel eyes glimmer as she observes the school, exhaling nervously and pulling her books tighter to her chest. "I can't believe it's officially my first, last day."

I watch as my sister stands still, taking it all in. I know she's just as nervous as I am. Tarra turns her head so that our eyes meet.

"Ready, Sis?" She asks, her tone containing more confidence now. There's my sister. She's normally the confident one, whereas I'm the nervous, scared shitless of my own shadow type. I nod my head and walk by her side as we enter the rather large building.

My classes have been great so far, the teachers are very accommodating. Now, it's physical education time. A lot of people find this class to be fun and an easy 'A', but for me, I'd much rather sit in English or Science, learning something important. Sports haven't been my strong suit thus far. As I take my seat, I glance around the room. It's filled with posters of different quotes and athletes, fitting for this particular class.

The small conversations around the room come to a screeching halt when the door opens, a minute before class is about to start. I turn my attention to the front of the class following the stares coming from the rest of the class. Thinking it was going to be the teacher, my jaw drops significantly as I realize it's not a teacher, but maybe the most handsome creature I have ever laid my eyes on.

His broad shoulders are rolled back, exposing his chest, which shows his pecks through the thin material he has chosen to wear. My eyes certainly don't mind it, though my heart falters at the overwhelming exquisiteness this guy brings. I suck in a sharp breath as I see him sauntering over to the chair beside me. Like a movie scene, I gaze at him and swear he's walking in slow motion.

He has to be at least six feet, and I'm guessing he's either a junior or senior. He takes a seat, his bare chiseled chin rises, and I can't pry my eyes away like I'm completely under his spell. I observe his perfect jawline clench as he turns his face towards mine. His brown hair makes his ocean-like colored eyes pop, making my insides melt just a little. Under his small, yet luscious lips lies a tiny scar just below the lower lip. It's probably the most adorable thing I've ever seen. If he has nice teeth, it's game over for me.

As if reading my mind, he winks and smiles at me, bearing a white, dazzling smile. I feel the small hairs on my arms raise, my legs as well since I didn't shave. My ass was too lazy to do it this morning.

"Crayvin, hey man!" I hear another boy call him from the back, breaking our moment. I rest my forehead on the desk, trying to calm my nerves and my rapidly beating heart.

Crayvin...you quite literally stole the breath from my lungs.

"So, beautiful, did you go to high school here in Phoenix?" Crayvin asks, trying to spark a conversation. It's ironic really, I once thought he was the most handsome thing ever, and now he's here calling me beautiful and it doesn't phase me.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

I huff exaggeratedly and look out at the passing traffic from the passenger seat window, praying that the radar gun beeps, signaling a speeder will rid us of this completely unwanted talk. His patrol unit is much like how my father's was, except cleaner, surprisingly.

Our cruiser is a white and black Ford Explorer. Two front bucket seats flank a gun holder and patrol laptop that are set up where a center console would normally be. The backseat was not your usual, cloth-lined seats. It was rather uncomfortable and bare, with a black cage separating the front seat from the back. After any arrests, they would be seated in the back in cuffs. So far, we are three hours into the shift and there has been nothing. Just awkward and utter silence hung between us. I think the crickets may have even died.

"I already told you, Smith. The name's Cassandra. Stop trying to flirt with me, it won't work," I say, toneless.

Crayvin fidgets in his seat and I keep my eyes away from him, focusing back on the laptop. I turn the air up a tad, in dire need of non-confined space with the devil himself. The vent scented clips push out a strong aroma of sandalwood, lemon, and bergamot, leaving a powerful yet masculine scent in my nose and I close my eyes obtaining it. I use the very same black ice car scent in my truck.

"Jeez, alright, Cassandra," Crayvin mutters. "What about school? Did you go here..."

"Yup," I say, popping the 'p'. "Sure did."

I straighten myself so that I am looking out of the windshield. "Me too. What year were you? I graduated in twenty-twelve."

I roll my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest. "Twenty-fifteen," I say, keeping my responses to a minimum.

Dumb and dumber over here doesn't realize I don't want to talk. Not to him at least.

"Maybe our paths have crossed before." He rubs the back of his neck, flexing his large, defined bicep muscle.

He probably lives in the damn gym.

"I'm sure I'd remember you though," he says flirtatiously.

I laugh under my breath and he brings his hands down, gripping the steering wheel. "Oh, I'm sure you'd remember me if I reminded you," I scoff.

Of course, he has no memory of the teenage girl's life he had once ruined.

I turn in my seat so that my body is facing his now. His cheeks are puffed out with his ocean eyes glued to the traffic ahead, deep in thought.

He smirks and then faces me, his eyes glinting. "I know, we dated right? Or hooked up?" His tone is serious.

I stifle a giggle, snorting at his comment.

How can anyone be capable of such monstrosities and not remember?

"Pfft, in your dreams, Smith."

He grins, leaning his face closer to mine, and my laughter immediately stops at his closeness. I watch as his sultry eyes look down to my lips and then back up to meet my eyes, gliding his tongue against his lower lip in a swift motion. He's so close now that I see the minuscule scar just below his lip. The one I used to think was adorable for some unknown reason.

"That's where I met you, in my dreams."

I bite my lower lip, trying my best not to laugh, as I lean even closer, the proximity making his eyes widen. "Does that line ever really work, Crayvin?" I sigh, before pulling my head back to the headrest and begin laughing at his audacity.

My laughter booms through the SUV. Given the frown lines he now has on his forehead, I take that as a sign that this isn't the reaction he's used to. I'd say just kidding to be nice, but, given the circumstances, I think I'll let him fret over it a bit.

"Well, since you're not a woman of very many words, I'm hoping you can eat. Hungry?"

"Ravenous," I admit.

Sitting in a local burger joint with Crayvin isn't as unpleasant as sitting in the patrol unit. In this case, there's at least food involved. Crayvin had ordered a double cheeseburger with fries while I ordered a chicken sandwich, no bun, and some fries. What? I have to live a little. I still don't understand how he eats like that, and yet, he's brawny and built like a brick shithouse.

Us women have to work so much harder to lose weight. It's unfair, really.

By the time I'm halfway through my meal, Crayvin cleans off his plate, wipes his mouth with the brown napkin that was provided, then and rolls it up into a ball and sets it on his empty tray.

"Sorry, for being an ass back there," he says, folding his hands and resting his forearms on the table.

My eyes widen, stunned by the apology. "What?"

I shake my head, swallowing the fry I was in the middle of eating. I'm shocked I didn't choke just then. "Nothing, just nice to see that 'sorry' is a part of your vocabulary. I wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

His dark, full brow arches. "That so?" I nod. "I admit, I can be an ass at times."

"No kidding," I mutter, and he catches it.

"Are you two all done here?" The waitress asks, her long, ginger ponytail swaying from her movement. Her name tag reads 'Betty'.

I nod and hand her my tray while Crayvin does the same. "Have I seen you before, Ma'am?" Crayvin asks the waitress.

I know where he's going with this.

Betty giggles, holding both of our trays in one hand and the other pushing back an invisible piece of hair behind her ear. "No, I don't think so, Darling."

I roll my eyes, who says darling anymore? "Hmm. I know I've seen you somewhere." Crayvin continues, rubbing his thumb and index finger against his annoying chiseled chin. He removes his finger and snaps, "My dreams. That's where I've seen your pretty face before."

Betty covers her mouth and giggles loudly, her cheeks turning a bright, rosy pink. "I'll be right back with your check."

I fold my arms over the table and lightly tap my forehead two times on my forearms. I exhale in annoyance. As Betty said, she returned right away with our checks, placing mine on the table. She makes eye contact with Crayvin as her fingers make contact with his, handing him the ticket, and smiling seductively before strutting off, swaying her narrow hips.

Crayvin glances at his ticket and his blue eyes meet mine, smirking. "It works." He states.

"What works, Crayvin?" I inquire, the annoyance in my voice clear. I rest my cheek in the palm of my left hand, my elbow lying on the table.

He turns the face of the ticket around to show me whatever he's going on about. My eyes scan the check until they land on the red heart with Betty's name and number written down, saying to call her.

"My cheesy pick-up line, that's what."

Smug shit.