Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. “Who said I want any relationship with you?”

“You should. I recommend it.”

I scoff, trying to squirm, to no avail again. “Of course, you would.”

“I’m rich, handsome, and a star. Oh, I also come from a prestigious family. What’s there not to like about me?”

“Everything you just mentioned. Oh, and your arrogance is the cherry on top. Sorry to crash it to the ground, but I don’t do douchebags. Better luck next time.”

He chuckles, the sound surprisingly carefree compared to his demeanor. “You are a funny one.”

“No, I’m kinda bitchy. Ask your besties, Reina and Brianna, and they’ll tell you the deets.”

“I’d rather ask you. Dinner tomorrow?”

“In the funeral home before they cremate you?”

“Or just somewhere nice where we don’t have to worry about dead people.” He speaks calmly, a smirk tugging his lips, and appearing completely oblivious to my sense of sarcasm that usually works in shooing people away.

“I’m not sure if you got the memo, but I just insinuated that I’m not interested in you.”

“No, you insinuated that I’m arrogant and that you hate all the qualities I mentioned about myself.”

“Okay then, I’m telling you now that I’m not interested for the reasons mentioned above.”

“So let’s forget about them.”

“What?”

“Forget about the background and who I am. Do you have any objections otherwise?”

“I can’t just forget them.”

“You can pretend to.”

“Doesn’t work that way. Your name and face and position in the college are what defines you.”

His jaw clenches. “And what defines you, Naomi?”

“You tell me. Aren’t you the one who forced a kiss on me, then wanted to take me out to dinner like some doting dick? We’d never properly spoken before you slammed me to the ground a few days ago, so I’m free to believe you’re playing me.”

“Or maybe I’m just interested in you.”

“Oh, please. Name one thing you know about me.”

He remains silent.

“You have nothing? Figured as much. Go play this game on someone else because I don’t have the time—”

“You hate being a cheerleader and throw every tantrum under the sun to be kicked off the squad. However, the dean and the coach keep you on because of the checks your mommy writes to the college. You were raised by a single mother of Japanese origins and you have a tendency toward passive-aggressiveness and straight out aggressiveness when your race is brought up. You use sarcasm and self-deprecation as a defense mechanism, but you don’t react well when those tactics are directed at you. You barely smile because you like being angry at the world and everyone in it and prefer to be an asocial weirdo instead of putting on a mask. You sometimes wear black-framed glasses in class that make you look like an adorable nerd. Oh, and you listen to hard rock at a volume that will damage your ears in the future.”

My lips part as I stare up at him. There’s…no way he’d be able to know all of that about me. Not when we’ve barely had any contact.

Hell, I doubt he remembers the first time we met officially—or unofficially or whatever.

“So?” He grins. “How did I do?”

“Are you waiting for a score? If so, it’s an F.”

“Lying again, even though you’re clearly impressed. Oh, and you’re slightly trembling right now.”

I go still against him, cursing my involuntary body reaction.

“Now I know what you truly are,” he says.

“And what is that?”

“Tsundere.”

“What?”

“It means someone who’s hot and cold. Violent on the outside, despite being soft on the inside.”

“I know what Tsundere means and I’m not a damn anime character.”

“I’ll confirm that during dinner tomorrow.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips on my skin that instantly turns red.

I’ve always praised myself for being above having emotions, or at least, not showing them. But right now, it seems as if I’m an open book in front of Sebastian.

He finally releases me, his hard, warm body leaving mine as he turns around, then strides away.

“I won’t be there!” I shout after him.

“See you tomorrow, Tsundere,” he calls back without looking at me.

I’m left there, fuming and boiling with a thousand different emotions that I can’t contain.

The most prominent of all—strange arousal.

The type that feels wrong and right at the same time.





6





Naomi





My feet are wobbly as I head to the parking lot. The chaos and the endless sounds from the stadium buzz at the back of my head with the continuity of a humming earthquake.

I slouch against the door of my car, hand trembling as I open it. Once I’m inside, I clutch the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, my blank stare projected on the half-empty parking lot.

Did that…just happen? With Sebastian, no less?

Yeah, fine, so I kind of had some sort of an unhealthy fixation on him for as long as I’ve known him. I blame my younger, immature teenage hormones.