Page 37 of Law Of Love

Eighteen: Freya

Kaleb had enjoyed my floundering after his little comment, but it confused me even more. He’d made it clear that despite his attraction to me, we couldn’t be anything. I’d believed we would be friendly with each other, but then Kaleb came out with that.

I had to brush off the comment, though. It was teasing. He wanted a reaction. It didn't mean as much as I thought it did.

He refused to tell me how much fixing my car had cost him. I still wasn't sure if he'd done it himself or paid someone else to fix it, but I accepted I wouldn't get an answer to that query, either.

My mom and I hadn't spoken much about the issue regarding my father. His company didn't actually exist, and there was nothing we could do about it until the police showed a sliver of interest. I’d given up texting and calling him—as had my mother. We knew we wouldn’t get a response.

I was sitting in Hannah's bedroom, staring off into the distance as I reminisced how Kaleb's lips had felt when so close to my ear five days ago in the kitchen.

I like women only one type of wet.

I shivered.

“Are you writing any of this down?” Hannah said, yanking me from my delicious daydream. My eyes rounded, and I gazed down at the empty sheet of paper in front of me, my ballpoint pen hanging limply from my fingers. She laughed, shaking her head. “This project is due in one week, Freya, and we've done nothing.”

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, grinding my teeth and shaking my head, attempting to rid Kaleb from my brain. “Right, I'm sorry. Let's do this.”

The topic we’d been given didn't interest me—the history of Fine Art. However, it was a crucial part of the course and had to be done if we wanted a good grade. It was our final year.

“What are you thinking about?” Hannah teased, cocking her head at me as she sat up in her bed. “Your hot bodyguard lover?”

“He's not my lover, Hannah.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that's what they all say. You kissed and expect me to believe you aren't thinking about him?”

“Well, don't get your hopes up. He's leaving in early January, and I don't know if I'll see him again after that.” My own words caused my insides to crawl, and I sighed. The thought of never seeing Kaleb again—I didn’t like it.

“Freya.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “He fixed your car for you—free of charge! Guys don't just do that for any girl. Listen to me when I tell you that you will be seeing him again. You want to hear my advice?” She beamed at me—a kind of smile that held an evil undercurrent to it—and I mentally cringed. She could be sneaky and manipulative when she wanted to be, but I kind of loved it—when it didn’t involve me.

“Not really. You scare me sometimes.”

“Shush. He says you need to forget about the kiss, but then he flirts with you. He clearly has feelings for you he can’t suppress, but is denying it because he knows he can't take back what he said about not taking it further. If he wants to flirt, then you flirt too, but better.”

I arched my brow. “Better?”

“Better,” Hannah confirmed. “The best part about being a woman is that we can use our body to our advantage.” She smiled that same wicked smirk.

I shook my head frantically. “I don’t know if I want to play any games, Hannah.”

“Kaleb started it. You'd be rude not to join in. He can’t flirt and then expect you to think nothing of it. See it as a challenge, and last time I checked, Freya Henderson doesn't back down from a challenge.”

She had a point.

“Are you trying to manipulate me?” I laughed.

“Yes, but for the right reasons.”

I grinned. Kaleb wanted to see me squirm? Well, I was going to make him sweat. Buckets. He wanted to tease me like it was nothing and then leave early January? Fine, but I wasn't going to make it easy for him.

“Tell me what I need to do.”

Hannah tilted her water bottle as it hovered above my head, allowing its contents to trickle down my face. I laughed, smearing as much of it as possible over my neck and chest. My hair was pulled back into a tight, high ponytail, and I was dressed in one of Hannah's tiny sports bras and a pair of spandex blue running shorts. They were short. A little too short.

“I think I need a bigger size,” I said as I tried shoving my breasts back into the sports bra, grunting as they continued to spill out from the top.

“No, it's perfect.” Hannah laughed, fiddling with her own workout gear. Although, she had leaned towards a more modest look, insisting she wanted all the attention on me.

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