Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest is my doing. Please do not repost the story without authorization.
Word Prompt: Deterrent, recurrent, abhorrent.
Choose one word and write what your imagination dictates. For an added challenge, include all three words in your entry.
Not beta'd.
I realize just as Masen's about to deliver me that I haven't thanked him for the coffee he bought me. We've both been pretty quiet since I dropped the subject of his career path. It was a conscious choice made to keep the peace, but not one I'm content with. His secrecy leaves me feeling uneasy. At times he's very upfront with personal details—like his name, his Porsche, or being a loner—but he avoids sharing just as often. I hate not knowing which topics are taboos, even if it is part of getting to know someone. The recurrent fear of putting my foot in my mouth shouldn't be a deterrent to getting to know him, but it is.
"Thanks for the latte. It was such a thoughtful thing to do. How much do I—"
"Don't even… I didn't buy it expecting to be paid back. It was my treat."
He looks miffed, and I'm not certain whether he's joking. I don't want to feel like I owe him, nor do I want him to feel like he has to buy me a coffee just because he wants one himself.
"But I—"
"One more word and you're going to insult me."
He's definitely serious. I'll have to find some other way to balance things out between us. I have no desire to offend him, but I need to show my appreciation. Because I'm wary, it comes out sounding like a question. "Thank you?"
"You're welcome." With a flash of dimples and a shift of his lips, all is well. Better than well, in fact. There's something in this smile that's so endearing. It's dynamic, as though he's flustered or embarrassed and can't decide how big a grin or what sort is appropriate.
"Next time it's my turn. But none of this Dunkin Donuts crap. Don't you guys have Starbucks out here?"
"Oh yeah, you're a west-coast coffee maven," he says with fake repugnance. "No Starbucks for sixty or seventy miles in opposite directions."
"How abhorrent!" My attempt at imitating his haughty tone makes him chuckle. "Seriously? Nothing closer than that? Tell me again why I moved out here."
"The scintillating conversation."
"Is that what you call it?"
"If you want a ride home, it is."
"Again with the threats. You'd better be careful or I'll find a new driver. A girl can only take so much intimidation before she buckles under the pressure."
"I can't imagine you buckling under any circumstance." His eyes meet mine for just a moment, transferring their intensity like a lightning bolt. I swear he does it on purpose, just to have the upper hand.
"You'll see," I say, and it's as much a promise as I've ever made. Pressure comes in many forms. I may be tough, but I'm not shatterproof. "See you later."
xxx
I'm hunkered down at a quiet table in the library. My required reading list is extensive, and since I'm not the fastest reader, I have to use every spare moment to stay on top of it. Masen won't be done for another hour at least, so I should have time to finish this book's first act and prepare notes for tomorrow's study date with Angela.
"If you didn't want to talk to me, you just had to say so, rather than hide in the one place I'm not allowed to speak." He whispers directly into my ear, and I have to close my eyes just to focus on his words. "You're way too easy to sneak up on," he adds.
"What are you doing here?"
"I finished early." He steps away from me and flops down into the chair on the other side of the table. The enormous windows behind me illuminate his face with a beautiful, late afternoon glow. I want to crawl into the warmth his green eyes exude as they stare back at me.
"You should have sent me a text. I would have met you out front."
"I know. I wanted to carry your books."
A/N: Thanks everyone for reading. The story is approaching 200 reviews, which is so amazing. Thank you.
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*waits patiently for your thoughts* ;)