Page 18 of Capture
“Well, you know she’s my roommate,” the geek pushed her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, reminding me of Riley, not Annika, even though they’re the same person. I wondered if Annika studied geek behavior to know how to perform the little twitches and quirks.
“Oh…kay,” I stated in a lowered tone, coming to the end of my patience. “Let’s drop the BS, shall we?”
“What do you mean?” she hissed angrily as we walked past a group of students standing by a basketball court, watching as guys dropped hoops. It had been raining, and the cement was wet and shiny, causing them to slip around on their sneakers.
“I know who you are,” I exhaled as fatigue hit from the lack of sleep last night, curled up with Annika, then sent home as if I did something wrong. I didn’t touch her. I swore I didn’t touch her inthatway, anyway.
“I’ve never made it a secret,” she snapped, then added, “Did Riley tell you my name?”
“No. We found out because you were sniffing around too much, raising our prickers,” I confessed to her.
“You’re what? Prickers? What’s a pricker?” she panted, still trying to align with my strides. “Oh, god, don’t tell me. It’s probably something gross.”
“I think you’re confused with peckers,” I mumbled. “Anyway, you’re an Ivanov, aren’t ya?”
“Yes, I am,” she said, straightening her back and lifting her chin proudly. “I never hid who my family is. And what’s your problem with my family?”
“Is that a joke? Seriously, are you joking? You’re our enemy, and you sided with An, fuck, Riley deliberately,” I snarled. “Why?”
She bit her bottom lip as we walked around the bend and into the block, where I opened the door for her to go through first, and it seemed to make her blush. I bet this geek had never had a boyfriend or been kissed or had her tit squeezed.
I’d offer to help her out if I weren’t obsessed with Annika, my fucking foster sister. Fuck, I need therapy.
“Do I look dangerous to you?” was the argument she came back with. She was a bolshie little thing, just like Annika, and had no intention of backing down from this argument, regardless of what territory we ventured into.
“Depends what you’re running back to your family with,” I hit back, then lowered my voice to say, “I mean, I could slit your throat right now if I felt like it.” I patted my sweatpants pocket to make it seem like I had a knife hidden in there. I didn’t. I left it under the seat of my car. After I used it to cut Riley’s jeans and fuck her in the gardens in the dark. I enjoyed that. I’d like to do that again. Soon. She’s a sitting duck, an easy shot, lying in that locked room on that bed with nothing to do.
“They’d know it was you,” she hissed back at me, utterly unafraid of my threat, which was honorable.
I suspected she was a little autistic or something because she was extraordinarily good at hiding her emotions, or maybe she didn’t have any feelings. She was an Ivanov after all. I shouldn’t expect too much out of her.
“Really?” I suppressed a flinch because that comment sent a little shiver down my spine. “Are they watching us now?”
She bit her bottom lip again as those eyes darted about weirdly behind glasses again, reminding me of Riley the fake ass. When I compare this chick’s movements and quirks with Riley the Fake, it’s obvious now that Riley was forcing the geek girl thing. I knew all along. She was never a shy geek girl. She was always bright like sunshine, with a dimpled smile, fun and flirty, and loud, infectious laughter.
I was aware at the time, when we were fifteen or sixteen, that there were older boys who had their eyes on her, but they had to get through me first. They failed. But those same older boys would have no interest in Riley the geek or this chick here.
“Katerina Ivanov,” I stated in a warning tone when she refused to answer. “Are your family or lackeys watching us right now?”
“More than likely,” she replied, raising her chin in pride, but her eyes flicked about as if searching for something as her head remained bowed.
“More than likely? It sounds like you’re unsure, Kat. Can I call you Kat?” I asked her as we walked down the hallway lined with students watching us closely.
“No, you cannot,” she spat.
“Great. I’ll call you Kat,” I defied her as we came to the bottom of the stairs, and I ran up to the landing, noticing that she wasn’t following.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she called after me, yet she still couldn’t look me in the face; instead, her gaze stopped at my shins. “Where is she?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea,” I grinned, then ran up the next flight of stairs, and once up on the landing, I looked down at her standing in the same spot.
“I know you’re lying,” she snarled as her weird voice bounced against the walls.
I leaned over the railing and called down to her, “How do you know I’m lying, Kat?”
“Because…” she muttered something I didn’t catch, and I was about to give up on her and leave, but something about her twitching expression urged me to press her.
“What? What did you say, Kat?” I yelled down to her as the pounding, echoing footsteps of three students hiking the stairs smothered her voice.
