Page 2 of Obnoxious Bad Boy

To be fair, neither can I, since I’m thin as a reed and bony like a roast ortolan bunting. But at least I have a flawless complexion to make up for it and a hairline at no risk of receding. Unlike some people. I wear my unruly dark waves a bit longer, which on good days makes me look like a romantic poet, but on bad days, like a floor mop. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

“Can we stop wasting time on this baboon? You two are so eager to discuss him, I’m half-worried you might own underwear with his face or something,” Declan says.

“I know I don’t, but maybe Jessica is planning to get hashtag Vexed.” I snort at her scowl. No way in hell is that girl getting the Vex tattoo treatment. If she goes crazy one day, she’s getting a delicate symbol or a dainty ornamental pattern that will make her feel different and refined. Maybe even a Paulo Coelho quote.

I shudder.

“Agreed, no point in wasting time on him, even for fun.”

“Aren’t you gay?” Jessica asks, and I look up, feeling as if I’d just been stripped naked in front of the whole class, even though I’m at a small table in my favorite cafe, and nobody beyond it can overhear our conversation through the soft rock playing from the speakers.

I am out, but my sexuality is not something I often mention. Mostly because there’s nothing to talk about. “And your point is?”

Jessica shrugs, hiding behind her coffee-milkshake. “Lots of gay dudes commenting on his videos.”

Ah, so this is about diverting Declan’s attention. If she were my friend, I might have gone with her attempt, but I don’t even like her. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t watch him.”

There. Done and dusted. Do not fuck with me, girl.

We’re locked in a battle of stares, but she relents and gets right back to the open notebook in the middle of the table.

“Whatever.”

But I’m not leaving it like that. “Just because I’m gay, doesn’t mean I wanna get railed by some Neanderthal with juiced-up muscles and shit for brains.”

I know I should have left it be when Declan bites back a smile. “The lady doth protest too much.”

Fuck.

“Looks like today’s your lucky day, Aaron,” Jessica jumps on the nuisance bandwagon and points to the cafe door.

As I gaze past the counter with fresh sandwiches and cake, past the coffee machine, and the cozy interior with colorful chairs taken up by students, my heart already starts racing. The Etch Tattoo Studio is just around the corner, and I spend enough time at this cafe to know Vex comes in for a daily coffee run. I may have chosen it in my freshman days because of him, but who would remember such things.

Most people are forgettable. Average. But there’s nothing even remotely mundane about the tall, broad-shouldered man stepping inside. He’s one of those people whose presence demands everyone’s attention, and I am certain that even without the tattoos covering most of his body and muscles allowing him to display more ink, he would have been just as magnetic.

There’s a confidence in the way he moves across the cafe in joggers and a loose tank top that occasionally reveals a nipple, and his diamond-cut profile is something most men could only dream of.

“Lucky day for what? Getting money back for that laptop?” I snark.

Declan shrugs and gathers his things. “We’ll be going.”

He probably doesn’t want Jessica getting a better look at Vex in those joggers. Not that I’m staring. I’m just glancing. Respectfully

It’s impossible not to notice how many eyes move to follow him, and as I absentmindedly say my goodbyes, I can’t help but focus on the way longish strands of black hair fall into his face just before he pushes it back, revealing those freakishly symmetrical features. No wonder he has a side gig modeling for alternative fashion brands.

I open the file with my novel, suddenly needing to change the love interest’s haircut so it has the same kind of short sides as Vex’s. No one needs to know who it’s inspired by.

But description needs to be visceral, the reader needs to feel the character, so…

I get up with my heart pounding, and I don’t even care about leaving my laptop. No one would steal it here. What I need is to be in line right behind Vex so I can smell him. Weird? Maybe. But as an artist, I’m allowed certain eccentricities.

My head feels light as I walk toward him, so focused on the black and white patterns covering the back of his neck I almost collide with the colorful server, Kai, who glides right in front of me in his rollerblades. Two glasses of juice clink on the tray he’s carrying, and he sends me a death glare before skating on toward whoever ordered the drinks.

But I make it. I squeeze in front of a woman with a baby about to join the line. It makes me feel like a villain, but all that matters is that I’m in smelling range. I stand closer under the pretense of getting a better look at the muffins on the counter, and I might be getting heart palpitations when I sense his spicy cologne, and a hint of sweat.

I consider myself an intellectual, but when it comes to this man, I’m a mindless animal on the lower rung of the evolutionary ladder. Maybe I should drop to all fours, right in front of him?

Embarrassment washes over me, because even having such thoughts is shameful, but I can’t help myself. I lean closer and stare at the stark image of a burning city covering the side of his head. The hair on the sides is growing back already, and if he’d only let me, I’d shave it for him for the price of letting me lick the newly smooth skin.