Page 47 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

Jensen’s chuckle wiggles its way into my ears, and I catch myself checking the library’s entrance. A head of blonde curls slips through the glass door and bobs into the stacks of books.

I glance to the right of the door, and a dark figure turns the corner. Fall is settling in so Riggs is wearing a black zip up hoodie, the hood covering most of his face, cloaking him in shadow. I’d like to say the darkness, the air of baggage and misdeeds surrounding him, warns me away from him, but it doesn’t. Nope, his darkness is still calling to mine, drawing me in. A bright beacon in this hellishly dark night, beckoning me toward him.

Fucking Riggs Sutton. What is it with this kid? Why can’t I quit him?

I should turn away. Leave and not peek back. There is nothing good that is going to come out of walking to him.

I’m not walking to him, I’m going to the library to study. This doesn’t change a thing. I will ignore him.

Hell, he’s going to act like I’m not even here, plowing over me in his hurry to get back to his bestie. They’re even more attached than Foxy and me.

If I go down there and speak, we are likely to end up in another infuriating match of tit-for-tat that’s going to get me all fired up and I won’t be able to focus on my schoolwork. I need this time to study with no interruptions. Going home will be nothing but a distraction because my parents are hosting a dinner party. That’s why I made plans to come to the library.

A bigger distraction than Riggs in the vicinity?Fuck. Damn brain.

Riggs will not be a deterrent. I am going to march my happy ass down this sidewalk, through those doors, and over to a table. I will not say a single word to Riggs because he is not my friend, and he doesn’t have power over me.

With a deep breath, I continue. The cool, crisp air against my skin is almost enough to convince me to stop and study outside. I could get the librarian to let me bring books out here, right?

No. Stop trying to find excuses.

Riggs is playing that ball game on his phone, a joint pinched between his index finger and the tip of his thumb as he navigates the balls with his middle finger. This one doesn’t smell fruity and I find myself craving the candied grape scent that usually accompanies…him.

Shit. No. He doesn’t have a scent. There is nothing we like that reminds us of Riggs.

By now, he is leaning against the brick building, one leg bent, his booted foot resting flat against the wall. His dark hair is spilling out of his hood, draped over his forehead like it gave up the sexy tousled look hours ago and is just as tired as I am. He ditched his uniform and chose a black shirt and white jeans that sit baggy on his lean frame. Smoke funnels from his nose as he exhales.

I breathe in the smoke, passing him and minding my own damn business. Grateful he hasn’t seemed to notice me, I reach for the door handle.

“Hey,” he sounds commandingly.

CHAPTER21

“Me?”

Seriously?I chastise myself. Could I have said anything more stupid than that? Of course, he is talking to me.

From his comfy spot against the wall, Riggs snorts a laugh and, as I expect, it sounds more than condescending. Great, so we are back to that nonsense. “Do you want something?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Riggs juts his palms forward, long slender fingers sticking straight up in surrender. He pushes away from the wall calmly compared to the low profile anger simmering inside of me. This is not studying and as I figured, once I spotted him, Riggs would waste my time. When will I learn to avoid him?

Screw that… I don’t need to avoid him. He is the one that needs to leave me alone. Being his punching bag, seductive smile or not, is not something I will continue with. I’m not desperate enough for attention from a guy that I can’t resist a smile like that. That will never be me.

“I was just saying hi,” he remarks, his tone dry and laced with irritation. Good, he should be. He’s irritated me so it’s only fair I return the favor.

“Well, you said it,” I snap and jerk the door open.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he mumbles to himself, but I hear him loud and clear. Something about it makes guilt seep in. I don’t owe him a damn thing and he’s been nothing but rude to me, but the way he said that, almost as if he were let down by something, has me pulling back.

I glance over my shoulder. He’s dropped to his haunches and his head is hanging, shoulders hunched forward, closed in. No way that interaction upset him. It’s what he’s always wanted, what he’s been preparing me for, right? No pleasant interactions between us, ever. It’s the natural progression of our less than civil relationship.

Why do I feel bad?

Because I am often misjudged? Am I misjudging him? As much as I don’t want to acknowledge it, Foxy said there is something there. That he’s not a bad guy, only sticking up for someone who I hurt.

No. There’s no way.

Why did he say, hey?

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