Layers(2)

I copy his action, sending him an inviting grin while running a hand through my hair. This is way too easy.

“Back to your old habits, are you?” Tasha whispers in my ear, admiring my flirting techniques. Not leaving his gaze, I lean back a little to whisper next to her ear, “Just for tonight.”

“Are you sure, Hales? I thought you quit that BS. You know how it makes you feel.” Cynicism leaves her voice, replaced by concern.

“I’m fine,” I declare. Am I? Or is the alcohol talking boldly on my behalf?

She touches my hand and looks sternly at me, assessing my state. I nod reassuringly and leave both Ian and Tasha, moving toward where the latter segment of my night stands.

“Ben.” He extends a hand for a shake as I reach his side.

I don’t really care, Ben, and your name is pointless for what I have in mind.

I never waste precious mental space on preserving random names.

I just take his hand in mine, deliberately ignoring his attempts to introduce himself, leading us toward the exit.

He follows without hesitation, though from the corner of my eyes I can see his astounded expression.

“Taxi?” he asks, swallowing hard, seeming suddenly hesitant.

Come on, don’t * out on me now. That is such a turn off.

Before I can get even more irritated by his sudden setback he opens a yellow cab door for me. Following me inside, he murmurs an address to the driver.

As our taxi melds with the flowing swarm of cars I pull him toward me. He eagerly cooperates and claims my mouth possessively; his hand slides too easily under my loose silver halter top, reaching my bare breast.

The bright lights coming from the cars reach me through my closed eyelids, at once mentally sobering me up.

“Stop,” I say abruptly, feeling all of a sudden terribly nauseated by his proximity, his touch, his smell, his silky tongue, and most of all by myself. He keeps going.

“Stop now and let go of me.” I raise my voice and push him away vehemently with my entire body. He forces himself against me, reluctant to cease.

“Get away from me, get the f**k off me. I’m going to be sick, get away,” I yell; my voice softens as I say the last fragment. My throat swells up in repulsion.

He halts at once and lets me go, flushed, respiring, cursing under his breath.

“And you,” I snap loudly at the awe-stricken driver. “Please stop the god damn car.”

With the car slowly rolling to a stop, I jerk the door open and leap out, slamming it back hard. Standing on the late evening pavement, I am shaken, trying to recuperate my equilibrium. I wrap my arms around my middle and with my head slightly tilted back, close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath.

My nausea is gone but that terrible feeling of self-loathing deepens. I’m so grateful that the next empty cab appears as quickly as it does.

“Which number was it, Miss?” The driver asks about the address I just gave him in a heavy Middle Eastern accent.

“Seven. It’s the three story grey building at the end of the street.” I gust out the words. Hugging my bent legs, I rock slowly back and forth, feeling empty and utterly sickened with myself.

Why, Hales? Why again? Why did you have to go and do that? You know you’re not up to it; it doesn’t work for you anymore. Your long, ‘emotions aside’ era is R.I.P.





Chapter 2: Crime and Punishment


“Stop smirking like some mental case, it’s unbecoming.” I flare my eyelids, scowling playfully at Tasha.

“Is it now? And you’d be the one to preach proper conduct,” she sneers, smirk plastered on her lips. She glances my way with glee before setting her eyes back on the road. In that split second when our eyes meet we both burst into short cackles.

“I must say, I’m highly disappointed in you. I think you kind of lost your malicious charm.” I look at my best friend fondly, sizing up her expression as I try to wind her up.




“Haley Grace, I am deeply hurt that you think I lost my edge.” Her smirk widens.

“I thought your evil mind would think of a better punishment for me,” I mutter dryly, checking my nails.

“Oh yeah? We both know you couldn’t be more annoyed. And to think you’ll go through the entire process, including the interview, which I see as the icing on this sweet, double-layered penalty cake.”

Damn you.

I watch her and a faint arch forms on my lips. She grins back, all perfect white teeth, silky raven black hair, radiating green eyes and this annoying too-straight and so-together Princess Di posture. Polished hands steer the wheel, a picture of Natasha in her usual glory.

“How did you manage to include me in this … what did you call it, Tash? Opportunity of a lifetime?” I roll my eyes.

She twists her mouth to that devilish, secretive smile of hers in response. “The honorable Dean Adams, if you must,” she utters, dancing eyes glancing my way.

“You didn’t,” I say, feigning shock. She reciprocates with a smug nod.

I can’t believe she persuaded our former University Dean, who worshiped the ground Tasha’s thin stilettos walked upon, to include me in this orientation day, given the fact that my student years of glory are long over and that by all means I do not qualify for this … torment.

Well, she obviously did, as we’re just a few miles away from visiting a preeminent high-tech company for a potential internship. Yep, she knows what she’s doing.