33: Café Confrontation

Quincy St. Martin

The thing I like most about working at the café, apart from the location, is the flexible work hours, since most of us are students. I finished work at the café at 11:15 a.m. this morning because I have a tutorial class at 11:30 a.m. and a study group right after that.

Just as I’m getting ready to leave, I feel his presence in the air that I breathe and his burning gaze on the back of my head. My heart leaps in my chest, and my stomach dips.

My skin is now burning all over. I can’t believe how his presence alone is affecting me.

“Oh, Quincy! I think your toy, err, I mean your lunch is here,” Cat calls out cheekily. “Hot, hot lunch.”

I like Cat, but sometimes I swear I could kill that woman. I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk toward Caspian, who is standing near the door with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Lunch?” he mouths.

“Don’t mind her. She’s crazy,” I tell him loud enough to make sure that Cat can hear me.

“Hey, Quincy!” yells Cat. “Don’t toy with your lunch!” Her laughter follows me to the door.

Caspian has a knowing smirk on his face. Ughh!! That woman!

I was expecting him to make some kind of a joke about Cat’s parting remark, but he’s being very quiet as he walks me to my class.

“I’m leaving for Russia tomorrow morning,” he says quietly.

“So I heard,” I tell him. “Genesis, Serena, Lazarus, and Constantine paid me a visit this morning.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Nosy idiots,” he mutters under his breath, but his lips curve up into a smile.

“I like them,” I announce.

“Good,” he says. His smile turns knowing.

When we reach my classroom, he grabs my wrist to stop me from going in. “Will you spend the rest of the day with me?”

I’d love to, but I find myself saying, “Uh, maybe I’ll see you after this class?”

He looks disappointed, but he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and reluctantly takes a few steps back. “I guess I’ll see you in forty-five minutes, then?”

I nod my head. I think he’s really trying to practice patience with me.

“Hey, Quincy!” yells a guy from my class.

His name is Brandon, I think. He’s been very friendly. Too friendly and too dense to understand the concept of personal space, sometimes.

“Coming in? Be my partner today, yeah?” he says with a wink.

Caspian’s eyes narrow as he stares at the smaller guy. Brandon seems oblivious to the hostile look as he disappears through the door with a bounce in his steps. Happy as a clam.

Caspian’s jaw tightens, and I can feel his annoyance. I prepare myself to say something in defense of poor dimwitted Brandon, but Caspian doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he grabs my wrist and he reaches for his Sharpie with another hand. He uncaps the Sharpie with his teeth then scribbles something on my arm.

He lets me go, puts the cap back on his pen, flashes me a smug grin, then saunters away.

I watch him disappear around the corner of the building before I bring up my arm to read the words written in big black bold capital letters.

CASPIAN’S PROPERTY

Oh, no he didn’t!

I turn right around and stalk over to where he disappeared to look for him. I don’t have to search too far. He’s standing near the front steps of the library, talking to a short, curvy, blonde human girl in a pastel pink dress. The word preppy comes to mind when I see her.

Isn’t it cute that she also has a string of pearls around her neck? Okay, I’m being petty, I have nothing against pearls. My Nana used to wear pearls.

I think I’ve seen him with that girl before.

I storm over to stand right beside him and his preppy blonde friend. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow and says, “Hey, Quincy.”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I pluck the Sharpie from his hand, take off the cap, grab his arm, and write, QUINCY’S PROPERTY.

I hear a shocked outrage gasp coming from Miss Preppy, but I ignore her. Instead, I look up at his face with a smug but defiant smile. He glances briefly at his arm, and then he gives me an amused, speculative look. Our eyes lock and hold.

“Wow! Delusional much?” says Miss Preppy.

Has anybody ever told her that she has an annoying voice? I grind my teeth together, but I turn to give her a tight smile. She has a big scowl on her face and her eyes scan me from head to toe with a superior look.

Without a word, I take hold of his other hand and write, QUINCY’S PROPERTY. Underneath it, I add, Hand’s off, bitch!

There!

I turn my chin up and give him a challenging smirk.

I was expecting him to be mad or at least to show annoyance at my audacity, but as he gazes back at me, his lips curl up slightly into an amused smile. There’s a look of pride, smugness, and fierce possessiveness on his face.

I tear my eyes away from his mesmerizing stare and whirl around, intent to bounce away and skip town. Oh, Lord. What possessed me to literally mark another person like that? I know he started it, but that’s not an excuse.

Nana would’ve flicked me right on the forehead and told me to write that on his forehead instead. Yeah, well, that’s Nana.

Like I said before, not everything that Nana said or did made sense.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He grabs my wrist before I manage to flounce off.

“After you claim me, you’re leaving me? I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I’m all yours, baby. So what are you going to do with me?”