Page 28 of Spyder
“Think so?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
“And how would a psychologist say I see myself?
“It’s a good thing I’m not a shrink,” I counter. “I only took introductory psychology classes.”
He leans back in his seat, his eyes boring even deeper into me. “You must have something to offer or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
Busted. I look down at my desk and laugh. I forgot how clever Derek is and how quickly his mind works. I remember in the classes we had together, he used to box our teachers in, using their own words against them like he just did to me. He’s sharp and I’d do well to remember that. I clear my throat and look up to find him staring at me expectantly.
“Well… the fact that you identify with Johnny Cash, combined with your identification with James Dean, tells me that you see yourself as an outsider. A rebel. Somebody who is dissatisfied with societal norms and stands outside of them,” I offer, surprised at the words that are falling out of my mouth but unable to stop them from coming. “You feel as if you don’t fit in with society, so you’ve come to resent it and willingly stand outside of it. I think that’s why you joined your motorcycle club…. it furthers that outlaw image and lifestyle.”
I finally manage to stop the flow of words and look at him. Derek is staring back at me, a dumbfounded expression on his face. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I expect him to get up and bolt out of the room… and I wouldn’t blame him for it. Not one bit. That giant dose of verbal vomit had to seem overwhelming, to say the least. Not to mention pretty damn judgmental.
But he surprises me when he starts to laugh again. It’s that deep, booming laugh that turns my insides to water and sets my heart turning cartwheels. And although I’m glad he’s laughing, I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what he’s laughing about since I basically just insulted his life and condescended to him like some overbearing, hypercritical bitch.
“Wow,” he says. “I’d say you took more than basic psych classes.”
“I paid attention in class pretty well.”
“I’d say so since that was a very thorough dissection of my character.”
I cringe inwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was dissecting you.”
He waves me off. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I asked you to do it. I shouldn’t have opened a door I didn’t want to walk through.”
I say nothing, feeling somewhat better that he’s not taking it personally. I had no desire to offend him or hurt his feelings, so I’m glad it doesn’t seem like I have.
“Do you think that’s all true? What you just said?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
His smile is wide and disarming. “You certainly sounded a lot more confident in your answer as you were giving it.”
I bury my face in my hands, mostly to hide my laughter and the flush of embarrassment in my cheeks. Being that candid with him was definitely not on my to-do list today. Not that I had planned on seeing him today at all. Slowly, I lower my hands and look at him again. He still looks fairly amused, but he seems to be done teasing me. At least for now.
“So, anyway, now that you’ve managed to totally mortify me, what can I do for you?” I ask. “I assume you’re not here for help with your homework?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m open to a little tutoring.”
I have no idea if he means it the way he said it, but the suggestiveness in Derek’s tone makes me feel warm inside. His eyes widen slightly as he seems to realize what it was that he just said, but he just keeps on smiling at me, apparently content to let me interpret it however I wish.
“Actually, I was just wondering what you were doing when you’re done here?” he finally asks, breaking that awkward strain hovering over us like a thundercloud.
“Well, I planned on having an exciting evening of putting together my lesson plan for tomorrow,” I reply.
“You are a wild woman, Bellamy Young.”
I laugh. “That I am.”
“How would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
If my heart were to beat any harder, it might just burst through my chest and land into his lap. I have to fight to keep my hands still on the top of my desk, not wanting to fidget in front of him. I don’t want Derek to see how nervous I am. How nervous he makes me. It goes back to the whole not-wanting-to-feed-his-ego thing again.
“Your silence is speaking volumes,” he says and starts to get up.
“No, wait,” I say quickly. “Yes. I’d love to have dinner with you.”
