Page 2 of Dragon's Flame
Kenna rolled her eyes, and Sarah stuck her tongue out.
Sarah was dressed for the weather: short jean shorts and a tank top that showed off her long, tan limbs, her blonde hair swept into a high bun that emphasized the curve of her neck and jawline.
Kenna, on the other hand, wasn’t. She usually wore her wavy brown hair down, framing her face, a makeshift veil against the world, and her dark brown eyes were shadowed with exhaustionfrom actually caring about her grades. Her skin, perpetually sun-kissed thanks to her mother’s distant Latino heritage, was mostly hidden beneath a long-sleeved turtleneck and jeans, because she wanted today to be on easy mode. No curious kids. No sidelong glances. No questions she didn’t have the energy to answer.
Four years ago, a freak electrical fire took her home—and her family. Only Kenna had survived. She’d woken up in a burn ward to the worst news of her life—and then she’d been expected to keep on living.
It’d been hell on earth for two years. But after that she’d found a new normal—and a reason to keep going.
She was going to become a plastic surgeon.
She didn’t hate her scars—in fact there were dresses in her closet back at their apartment, proof that she could own her story when she wanted to—but the idea of helping others reclaim their confidence after injuries or trauma had become her driving force. And she knew, thanks to the world’s most traumatic “personal essay,” she’d have a killer application for med school.
She just had to pass O-chem, first.
“Sarah? Hello?” she said, reaching forward to tap the eraser end of her pencil on Sarah’s textbook. “You can’t just guess where the hydroxyl group goes.”
“It’s the weekend.” Sarah groaned.
Kenna leaned into her chair, hearing her back pop. “It’s not like it’s going to get any more fun to study on Sunday.” Which just happened to be her twenty-third birthday. One more reason to get all her homework done early.
Sarah suddenly blinked and sat up straighter, finally distracted.
“Oh my God, K,” she whispered. “The world’s hottest homeless man just walked in the door.”
One of Kenna’s eyebrows rose. “So?”
Santa Cruz was full of ripped beach bum types. Kids whose parents didn’t know they’d dropped out of classes to become surfers, or Silicon Valley dudes who’d cashed out to pretend to become hippies—all sorts of people came to town and never left.
Unlike her.
Kenna was getting out, in a big way, the first chance she got. Christ, she did love Sarah, but sometimes being two years older than everyone else in her class felt like a lifetime.
Then the back of the man himself came into view, as he passed their table.
It was ginormous. Muscled. And the white tank he wore showed off every inch of it, including all of his chiseled arms and—fine, Sarah was right, he was hot, but he was also probably on steroids, and he was not at all related to organic chemistry.
She huffed and went back to figuring out the homework problem in front of her—then thirty seconds later, she felt a looming presence to her left.
She looked slowly over, and then up.
Mr. Steroids himself stood half a foot from their table, peering down with a burning intensity that made her panic. His brown eyes flicked between her and Sarah, lingering just a second longer on her, and she watched every muscle clench in his jaw, like he was deep in thought. He needed a shave, and now that she could see the front of him, there was a black mark streaked against his tank like he’d carelessly leaned against an open car door. His straight brown hair was unruly, and her overall impression of him was that he was unhinged.
“I am here for one of you,” he announced.
Kenna blinked as Sarah burst into laughter.
“Excuse me, what?” she sputtered.
Kenna’s mind scrambled for an explanation and landed on one quickly—he was a drug dealer. Hot guy, too much free time,money for ’roids, but no care for his appearance otherwise, because people would buy from him no matter what.
She quickly scooted her chair to the side. “Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any.”
He frowned, his jaw tightening further. “I am not...selling...anything. I need to talk to one of you, is all.” He licked his full lips, glancing between them again. “I just don’t know which.”
“One-two-three-not-me,” Sarah said, faster than Kenna could shake her head. “I mean, you’re cute and all, but I have a boyfriend.” She smirked at Kenna.
That was a lie. Sarah absolutely did not have a boyfriend. Kenna, however,kind ofdid.
