Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (3 page)

I yanked her through the door by the arm.

“Hey!” She stumbled, nearly falling, and eyed me like I was crazy.

“Girls like that can smell fear!” I hissed. “I don’t want them to get any ideas.”

“What? I’m not scared of them! Now I’m totally confused.”

“When bitches like that smell competition, their claws come out. I was just watching out for you.”

“Are you sure you’re not over-reacting?”

“Can I take your order, please?” the barista asked. Saved by the bell.

Madison and I ordered our coffee. When we had them properly creamed and sugared, we walked outside. The lion and his pride of catty bimbos were gone, thank god.

“What’s your next class?” Madison asked, swirling her cup.

“Life Drawing.”

“I thought you were an accounting major?”

“I am, but I’m taking drawing as one of my electives. I need to balance the bitter taste of business with something fun. I sort of want to minor in art.”

Madison sipped her coffee. “Have you bought any of your books yet?”
 

I face palmed. “Crap! I’m supposed to bring drawing supplies to the first class! I don’t have any.”

We walked into the school bookstore. It was more insanely crowded than the courtyard outside.
 

“O. M. F-bomb!” Madison’s eyes goggled. “It’s worse than I imagined! I’ve got class in fifteen minutes. Can you get your supplies later, when the rush dies down?”

“No, I have to buy them for the first class.”

Madison’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry girlfriend, but I’m going to have to throw you under the bus on this one. Spanish lab has like twelve people and if I walk in late, I’ll have my calabaza handed to me on a plato.”

“I totally get it. Thanks anyway.”

“We’ll get lunch later, okay?” Madison gave me a sympathetic look.
 

“Yeah, okay.” When she left the bookstore, I returned my attention to the mob in front of me. How was I going to get all my books and supplies without getting stabbed or shot by some hyper-ambitious over-achieving honor student? I reminded myself it was no worse than the subways in D.C. during rush hour. I could do this.

There were so many people stuffed into the textbook wing, it looked like Black Friday at Walmart. Scratch that. Books later. Art supplies now.

Thankfully, the art department was empty. I quickly found what I needed. A gigantic clipboard, a huge pad of drawing paper, vine charcoal, and a kneaded eraser. I wrestled everything to the register and paid. They didn’t have a bag big enough for the giant clipboard. No surprise there.

I checked the time on my phone. Crap. I had nine minutes to get across campus to the visual arts building with my XXXL clipboard and drawing pad for titans.

I butt-bumped the release bar on the door of the bookstore and backed out into the courtyard of the Student Center. I spun around, and blundered right into blue-eyed Psycho Motorknight.

Those muscles of his were as solid as a marble statue. I think I bruised myself on his abs.

“I’m so sorry!” I backed up, frazzled. His eyes were much bluer than I remembered. Wait, was he wearing mascara? Nope, naturally dark lashes, thicker than mine. Bastard. His dark hair and olive complexion further contrasted against his sapphire eyes. They glowed.

His smile was far better than I had imagined. His cheeks dimpled and his succulent lips revealed dazzling white teeth. Without his helmet squishing his face, I could appreciate his high cheekbones and rugged jawline.
 

I’m pretty sure I saw one of those wall-mounted Automatic External Defibrillators for heart attack victims inside the bookstore. Good thing, because I needed a hit right about now.
 

He drilled me with his Superman laser eyes again. My chest was melting, as were other biological destinations south of my rib cage, including my toes.
Swoon. Double Swoon.

“Sam. Antha.”
 

He remembered! Sort of. Where was that AED? Cardiac arrest was imminent.

Red light! Warning flag! I needed to get a hold of myself. Madison was into this guy, not me. Now was the appropriate time for me to run away. Before trouble got the best of me.

I took one step and my ginormous drawing pad slipped out of my arm and took flight. The immense pages fluttered as the pad fell to the ground.

“Let me help you with that.” His low voice was a resonant baritone. Deep, full and manly. I felt it in my chest. And other areas. He dropped to one knee. He looked like he was about to propose.
 

Gulp. “That’s ok, I’ve got it, thanks.” I bent to retrieve the traitorous pad. I kept my head down, hiding my glowing red cheeks. I’m sure I looked hideous. Broiled lobster, anyone? I rolled my eyes at myself
.
 

The pages of the drawing pad flapped in the slight breeze, making it difficult to flatten them back into the pad without tearing them.
 

Blue Eyes held out his hand. It was quite large and very tan. Was I supposed to shake it? I peered at it like it was on fire. Maybe it was.

I avoided his eyes. I knew that if I looked into them at this range, I’d be frozen in place. This guy was like a male Medusa. Only he was a
Man
-dusa, and instead of being ugly, he was so good looking, he turned innocent virgins to stone with a single gaze.
 

With eyes like his, I was pretty sure he could de-virginize unsuspecting young women with a single gaze as well.

“Uh, what’s your name?” I mumbled. Crap! Why did I ask him that? He must have hypnotized me. Otherwise, I’d already be cowering in the nearest bush.

“Adonis.”

I scoffed. “What, like the Greek god of beauty and desire?”

“Yep.”

Eye roll.

“It fits, don’t you think?” He winked at me.
 

Gag. “No.”
Yes.
“Ego much?”
 

He cocked that perfectly crooked, dimpled grin. “Don’t blame me. My parents picked it out. Guess they knew what they were doing.”

This guy’s ego was so monstrous, he was definitely a Man-dusa. The kind that’s ugly on the inside.

His hand still waited to be shook. Crap. I didn’t want to be a rude bitch. I shook it. It was very large, and engulfed mine. But it was also gentle and kind.

I swear, I had no intention of looking into his blue, blue eyes again. I froze. Stupid Man-dusa.

Wait, what? Why was he lifting my hand to his lips? And kissing the back of it? Oh no. Electric tingles slid up my forearm. I realized he was caressing my palm with his large fingers. My eyelids fluttered. I felt betrayed by my own body. Stupid hormones. “I’m late for class, I have to go.”

I jerked my hand free from his. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay right there, staring into those eyes, until the next century. But I bolstered my feminine independence, picked up my traitorous drawing pad, and trotted off to class.

With Madison already making wedding plans, the last thing I needed was for Psycho Blue Eyes to be gazing into
my
eyes like that.

Those eyes spelled trouble.

Chapter 3

As I hurried to class, I passed the three Fembot Barbies who had been hanging on Adonis in the Student Center earlier.
 

I gave them a wide berth on the cement pathway. I couldn’t help overhearing their conversation. Clearly, all three believed they should be upstaging Christina Aguilera or the Queen of England, based on their volume.

The brunette cackled. “Did you see the way she skulked off when Adonis pointed at her?”

“Like a frightened rat,” the blond with the stick-straight hairdo said.

“She should really do something about that dishwater hair of hers. She looks like a chambermaid,” the brunette continued.

Chambermaid? Who stuck me in a time machine and sent me into a Charles Dickens novel? I was used to deflecting bitchery like this. I could handle it. I held my head high. I passed them as quickly as I could.

I heard giggled whispers. “Oh my gawd, that’s her.”

Enough of this.
I had sworn to myself I wouldn’t let my peers beat me down anymore, like they had in high school. I stopped in my tracks and spun around. “You three
ladies
have a problem? Say it to my face.”

They recoiled and stumbled over each other.

The blondest and tannest among them, and the obvious leader, walked toward me with her limp hand extended. I envied her long, slender legs.

Her salon-fresh wavy hair rippled impressively. She wore a Delta Pi Delta t-shirt. Her shirt, knotted above her waist, revealed her flat stomach and stretched over her double-D Deltas. Her short shorts left almost nothing about her Pi to the imagination. I knew there was a reason why Delta Pi Delta made me think of Breast Vagina Breast. This girl looked like the cover of a trashy men’s magazine.

“Sorry about them,” she said. “They have no manners. My name is Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse. Pleasure.”

Was that a name or a title? I’m pretty sure her tailored nails dripped venom, even if I couldn’t see any. Yet. Sure, I hadn’t heard her gossiping about me, just her henchwoman cronies. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been snarking about me before I’d caught up to them. I shook her hand reluctantly.

“You must be new here. East coast?”

“How did you—”

She smiled, but I didn’t believe it was sincere for a second. “Your outfit. I saw some Manhattan socialite wearing your dress at some country club thing I found online.”

I’m pretty sure that wasn’t an insult. But a hint of iciness in her tone kept me on my guard.
 

“San Diego is a bit more…
casual
than the east coast.” She eyed me from head to toe.
 

I detected the faintest sneer when she said the word “casual.” That was definitely an insult gift-wrapped in niceties. Oh, she was good, this one. I frowned at her. “So I’ve noticed.”
 

The brunette snapped her gum. “You must feel pretty special to have the hottest guy on campus come to your rescue.” Her white day-glow teeth beamed at me, nearly as bright as the sun.
 

Great. There went any hopes I’d had for anonymity. Adonis must have told them everything. How long would it take for my story to get around campus? I prayed that SDU wasn’t as gossipy as my high school had been.

And I hoped Madison wasn’t too into this Adonis guy. Guys surrounded by gossip, who went for women like Tiffany and her ilk, were a mess. I had seen it firsthand in high school. I would have to break the news to Madison lightly. She deserved better.

“You should totally pledge our sorority,” Tiffany said.
 

Was this a keep your enemies closer thing? She couldn’t possibly think I’d fall for that. I had visions of hazings, scandal, and my face plastered all over the campus newspaper.

“If Adonis likes you, you’re in like Tim,” The brunette said.

Liked me? Geez, I hoped that was just an expression. I wanted nothing to do with him
or
these three. “You mean Flynn?” I scoffed. When she wasn’t getting it, I had to explain. “The saying is ‘in like Flynn,’ dear. Flynn.”

For a moment, Brunette was confused. Then she gave me the “I may be an ignorant ditz but my teeth cost more than your car” smile of superiority.

I hated that smile. I’d had enough of the Three Stoogettes. My mouth raced ahead of my brain. “Does Adonis have to screw, cough, I mean approve all your members?”
 

The brunette’s high-watt smile was hit by a rolling blackout. “No.”

I smirked.
Great comeback,
I thought.

Brunette’s face screwed up. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it. Let’s go, you guys.”
 

And…I felt like a total bitch. There was no reason for me to say that. I didn’t need to be like them. But the brunette
had
called me a chambermaid.

Tiffany scowled over her shoulder and shot me some daggers. “Stay away from Adonis.” The three of them pranced off in identical strides.

I didn’t know what Tiffany was worried about. She had the looks all guys went for. She was perfect for Adonis.

In general, I think my biggest problem in high school could be traced back to all the times I’d said what I shouldn’t have, right at the perfect moment. Had I been protecting myself from bitches like Tiffany & Company, or sabotaging my social life?

In either case, my troubles were my fault. I was a walking curse. Only not a cool curse, like Curse of the Mummy. More like a social disease everybody knew to avoid. I was a walking STDon’t.
 

And so it began. I was so good at being an outcast, I had cast myself out of the inner circle without ever having been inside it. That was okay. I was used to it.

But it didn’t mean I wasn’t sick to death of it.

Two hours into my first day of college and it was shaping up to be a gruesome misfire.

Could I get a do-over?

When I got to the Visual Arts building, the path split. I hesitated, unsure which one led to the studio wing.

A guy with a drawing pad similar to mine tucked under his arm stopped next to me. “Looking for Life Drawing? It’s this way.”

He wore an elaborate burgundy coat with black cuffs and intricate embroidery. It had this steam-punk cosplay thing going that I believed was standard bedroom attire for vampires everywhere. His silver-tipped black leather shoes matched his coat. “Come on, girl. We’re going to be late and get a shitty spot if we don’t stop dragging our fat asses.”

“Isn’t it a bit warm for such a long coat?” I was over-heating in my thin print dress and sandals in this end-of-summer San Diego weather.

“It’s never too warm to be fashionable, darling.” He had such a sincere and yet smarmy look on his face, I couldn’t help but grin.

“Are you wearing a monocle?”

“Why, yes. Do you find it fetching?”
 

Fetching? Who is this guy?

He turned so I could get a better look at his monocle. It popped off his cheek and swung from the black thread attached to his jacket button. He fumbled for it and squeezed it back into place, holding it there with a one-eyed frown.