The electric charge that had arced between our eyes gave way to an explosive eruption of ire the instant he recognized me – I was etched in his memory: the defiant auditionee, the girl who had serenaded him with an offbeat tune, the audacious soul who dared to stand up to his arrogance.
From his glittering eyes sprang forth a devilish gleam, as if he were prepared to extract my very life at a moment's notice should I make an attempt to evade him once more.
"The pianist," he murmured, his words dripping with intensity and his gaze fixated on mine, peeking out from beneath the veil of my tousled bangs.
Never had I stood this close to him. I took in the features that had become the obsession of campus chatter. It was impossible to deny that I was captivated by his enigmatic eyes and the face that graced the covers of magazines. Was he even real? I found myself wondering as I examined his arresting attributes. The contours of his face were perfectly sculpted, and his features were a mesmerizing concoction – his eyes, deep pools that held galaxies; his lips, a subtle crimson curve; his nose, a harmonious bridge that linked his stormy eyebrows.
Was he even human? I mused in wonder, my attention ensnared by his presence. A pang of self-consciousness gnawed at me as I compared my simple appearance to his striking one.
"Why did you flee from me yesterday?" he asked, his seemingly bored expression further deepening the effect of his words.
Clad in a polo shirt with his buttons nonchalantly undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his toned chest, he looked impeccably intimidating. I was left speechless in response to his question.
My gaze dropped to the ground, a habit I'd perfected when any male dared to engage me in conversation on campus. The studious, bespectacled nerd persona was my armor, shielding me from the attention of the opposite sex.
"When do you plan to answer?" he inquired, his tone oozing sarcasm, a hint of impatience beginning to surface.
"M-my friend and I had prior commitments yesterday, which is why I had to rush," I replied softly, attempting to retain my poise. I then endeavored to turn away and walk in the opposite direction, desperate to escape.
The crowd surrounding us grew thicker, and I felt increasingly stifled. Most of the onlookers, who had paused their activities to spectate, were undoubtedly members of the Phelan Vargas fan club. The mounting attention was stifling, and I craved release.
Once again, I cursed the limelight and the unwarranted attention it brought.
Just as I took a step to leave, he grabbed my arm, signaling his unwillingness to let me escape. A twinge of regret overtook me for yesterday's escapade. If only I had conducted myself differently, I wouldn't be confronting this formidable figure now, and my life could continue with tranquility as an ordinary student.
"It's against protocol to turn away when someone addresses you. You did that yesterday too! Are you pulling the same stunt today, in front of all these witnesses?" There was gravitas behind each syllable, his words akin to a veiled threat. It was a chilling tone to shun.
I surveyed the growing assembly of spectators with unease. It was as though we were two roosters in a cockfight, encircled by a chorus of eager onlookers, eagerly anticipating a spectacle. I blushed crimson as I realized I was the epicenter of this spectacle.
A suppressed chuckle escaped his lips. I observed the dimples forming on his cheeks as he stifled his laughter. His smile could melt glaciers. But something was amiss; his laughter appeared staged.
"Fake," I murmured, a soft exhalation carried away by the wind.
"Listen," he sighed, his voice carrying a note of weariness as if conversing with me was an indulgence he could scarcely afford, "I meant to return your songbook yesterday – the one you left behind. You behaved rather erratically, fleeing as if possessed, so I saw no reason to return it."
I lifted my gaze, locking onto his intense eyes as if they were a force of nature in their own right.
"W-where is my songbook?" I managed to stammer, taken aback by his words. My heart raced as I struggled to retain my composure in his presence.
He's a sanity thief, I concluded.
"It's at my place. I didn't feel like lugging it around, so you might as well collect it there," he replied, a faint, restrained smile tugging at his lips.
I suspected that he was playing games, relishing the prospect of humiliating me in front of the assembled crowd. His eyes flicked around, the edge of his lips curling before returning his gaze to me. There was a shift in his demeanor, from menacing to tender, as though he were attempting to coax a smile out of me.
"Are you mentally stable, Phelan Vargas?" I quipped, seizing an opportunity to escape his hold.
He wasn't having any of it. His grip tightened around both of my arms, preventing me from slipping away. Resentment built within me – frustration for my own recklessness yesterday and annoyance at being ensnared by his antics today. If only I could unleash my dormant abilities as a child of light, but my powers were strictly forbidden on campus. It was only a matter of time before I couldn't hold back any longer. I would erase this insolent Phelan Vargas from my reality!
Amidst the growing cacophony of bystanders, I finally awoke from my stupor. He had encircled my waist with his arm, and his breath tickled my earlobe. He had pulled me even closer, and I couldn't help but notice the points of contact between us.
"Cease this, Mr. Vargas, unless you'd like to be reported to the dean's off—"
My words were abruptly silenced by something warm and plush pressed against my lips. An electric current surged through me, and I shot my eyes open in astonishment. His arm tightened around my waist, his hand cupping the back of my neck, urging our faces closer.
We were kissing!
Holy son of a biscuit!
Yes! We were kissing.
Phelan Vargas was kissing me?
Balderdash! No!
What on earth is happening?
Astonishment. Confusion. Fear. Embarrassment. Bedlam. This man managed to cram all these emotions into one single kiss, right before the eyes of the onlooking crowd.
No! No! This can't be real! My first kiss should not be with someone like Phelan Vargas! It can't be happening. It's impossible! I struggled to process the unfolding events. I couldn't tell whether it lasted seconds or minutes, but the electrical currents continued to course through me. It felt like he had magnetically fused our lips together. Could there possibly be a hidden connection between us?
Absolutely implausible!
My body was having a full-blown quake party, and my legs decided they were auditioning for a dance competition as they turned into wobbly noodles the moment Phelan's lips reluctantly parted from mine.
At that moment, I wished with all my might that I could transform into a soap bubble and dramatically vanish into thin air. Escaping the awkwardness? Yes, please. Unfortunately, I was stuck, trapped in a mental limbo where words and reactions played hide and seek with my brain.
"Move, Kiera, you've got this!" my brain ordered like an enthusiastic coach, but it seemed my body had developed selective hearing and was opting for a cozy nap instead. Move? Nope, not happening!
All I wanted was for the ground to magically open up and swallow me whole, or perhaps for a lightning bolt to grant me the magical transformation into ashes. Someone had just stolen my first kiss, and it certainly wasn't a role I'd auditioned for. I mustered all my strength and gently pushed Phelan away, creating some much-needed personal space.
"Babe, are you good?" Phelan's husky voice echoed with genuine concern. His touch sent shivers down my spine, like I was plugged into an electric socket. I felt suddenly awake, more aware of everything around me.
The world dimmed, and a dizziness engulfed me. Breathing became an art form, and my heart raced like it was training for a marathon with thunderbolts as hurdles.
"Kiera," Ara's voice broke through my daze from behind, her palms providing much-needed stability. "Sir, she's not in great shape. We should get her home," she called out to Phelan.
"What? She was just fine a minute ago!"
"I-I'll take care of her, sir. We'll just grab a taxi," Ara declared, her voice a concoction of nerves and resourcefulness. She knew exactly which card to play when the deck got tricky. She couldn't call Friedan, couldn't take me to the clinic or hospital, and heaven forbid I appear to have recently won the lotto of new blood shades.
"Oh, sweet mother of—!" Phelan cursed, and then I sensed the ground shifting beneath me as I was gently deposited somewhere soft. I blinked, and voila, convertible sports car. My deductive skills were still functional. This was Phelan Vargas' exclusive crimson chariot, the Ferrari 458 Spider. A car that was as rare in Diamond Hills as a quiet library.
"That's a two-seater. So, where am I gonna perch? Do I just hitch a ride?" I heard Ara's voice from behind, a mix of bewilderment and amusement.
"Of course, what do you think? Should I install a third seat just for you? Maybe a rooftop patio?" Phelan's retort was dripping with sarcasm, and then the car door opened. "Are you getting in or organizing a formal welcoming committee for yourself, Miss?"
Ara didn't hesitate, she swiftly hopped in and aided me to ensure we both could be fitted comfortably. "And, Phelan, is this how you park cars normally?"
A resigned sigh escaped Phelan's lips, followed by the hum of the retractable folding hardtop mechanism as it encapsulated us within. "Satisfied now?"
"G-guys, stop arguing!" I squeaked from between them, feeling a bit like a referee caught between two wrestlers. This was my life now – sandwiched between a sarcastic billionaire and my drama queen friend.
"Strap in, buckle up, and hold onto your hats, ladies. We're going warp speed," Phelan announced like we were about to engage in a galactic battle.
Ara's scream merged with the rapid acceleration, turning it into a unique kind of symphony. We raced forward, the wind's grasp on my hair rivaling that of a toddler with a shiny new toy. My skin felt like it was having a close encounter with a freezer's arctic section.
And then, just like a roller coaster that was late for its date with destiny, the wild ride stopped abruptly, making me crash against my seatbelt. I heard Ara's expletives mixed with screams, and I was pretty sure she was reciting the entire dictionary of bad words.
"Oh gosh," Ara muttered, followed by an "Oh my god!" It sounded like she was in the midst of negotiating a pact with some higher power.
Phelan, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by his own speed-demon antics. He calmly observed the situation, a glint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. If it were any other time, I'd have punched him for it.
"Kiera, wake up, and for crying out loud, the gang's here! They must have tracked us down because of you. What's the plan?" Ara's frantic voice and trembling hands pulled me back into the present reality.
I forced my eyelids open, struggling to stay focused. Yep, there they were – five Suzuki Hayabusa motorbikes, a leather-clad gang blocking our path like they were auditioning for a villain role in a B-grade action movie.
"Trouble," Phelan muttered, smacking his palm against the steering wheel in frustration.
"Kiera, wake up! She's here, and probably sensed your blood from a mile away. What are we gonna do?" Ara's voice held a mix of panic and disbelief, and she clung to me like I was a lifesaver.
I tried to sit up, making sure I wasn't dreaming up another quirky twist in this bizarre day. They might have looked like your run-of-the-mill biker gang, but something in my gut told me they were beyond ordinary – they were human-outcrosses.
Amidst the chaos, adrenaline, and a dash of panic, I found myself glancing at Phelan. His normally composed demeanor had been replaced by a tinge of concern, and I swear I saw a hint of something else – a spark, a connection – but my thoughts were cut short by the urgent realization that I needed to come up with an escape plan pronto, before this turned into a circus!