Read Online The Fire Starter by Misty Wright, Summer Sauteur - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Misty Wright, Summer Sauteur
Tags: Romance & Fantasy Novel
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I saw before he turned around and walked away without another word. He didn't even look back, not once. I closed the door and leaned on it, my head tipped upwards as I let the tears run their course. I will be fine in the morning. If only that was true.
It had started to rain, and I laughed at myself as I brushed away the tears with the back of my hand. The rain seems to be agreeing with me as it dropped down into a steady drizzle. Just then, I heard a soft, almost undetectable knock that I wondered if it was on my door. But since I was leaning on it, I could feel the vibration the knocks were causing. I stepped away, wondering who it could be. It was late, and most students were asleep already. The knocks came again, then silence. I hesitated.
But it must be urgent. I opened the door and was surprised to see that it was Spencer. His hair was a mess and his eyes looked seething. I didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't speak either. He just stood there looking at me, me looking back, forgetting that my cheeks might still be wet with tears.
He ran his fingers down his hair and let his hand fall on his side limply afterwards. He swallowed, as though it was hard for him to be here. "I couldn't rest until I knew you were fine," he whispered into the empty hallway.
"I'm okay," I lied in a flat tone.
This didn't seem to convince him as he pushed the door open. "Are you sure," he asked, taking a step inside my room.
He stopped just inside and stole a quick look at the space behind me. I could already envision the clothes strewn everywhere, the books in various places, the bed unmade, and my various personal things out in plain sight. It wasn't a sight you wanted the person you liked to see.
"Sorry for the intrusion," he said, his voice notably sadder than usual.
"It's okay. I'm sorry for the mess," I apologized in return. "I didn't think anyone would come here and I haven't had the time to tidy up a bit."
"It doesn't matter," Spencer spoke again, this time taking a few steps forward, towards me. I didn't move, didn't want to invite him any further. I wanted him to leave, to leave me alone. But he didn't seem to notice, as he walked languidly closer to me. "Are you really okay?"
I could feel his hot breath on my face already, and considering my predicament, it was hard to speak. I didn't think he'd buy any lie I'd say at this point anyway, since he would be aware of every inflection, every squirm, every tiny movement that I might do. Instead, I didn't answer.
And it seems he didn't need any. He had stopped walking, since there was nowhere else to walk. He was just an arm's length away from me, or maybe even closer, but I could see his face drawing nearer.
It was a slow, painful, torturous process.
He brought his face nearer and nearer, savoring every second that I anticipated his next move. I hated that I anticipated it, but it was all leading there, wasn't it? Was he going to kiss me? Finally? Was he really going to torture me up to this extent? I didn't think he could be this…cruel.
But he wasn't cruel. Instead, he was sweet, painfully, passionately sweet. His lips brushed against mine, soft and kind. It was so soft that I didn't think our lips really touched. He solved that problem by kissing me once again, this time with a little more force. Above all the emotions jumbled inside me, two stood out. Happiness and sadness. Happiness that he was kissing me with a passion that I almost wanted to drown in, and sadness that it wasn't because he liked me. Because how would he like me when there are other girls who were far better than me in every aspect?
Happiness overpowered sadness as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. He didn't seem to hesitate as he tilted his head and crushed his lips against mine, a low moan escaping his throat. I kissed back as passionately as I could--never bother with the sadness. I would deal with that later on. Right now, all that mattered was
It had started to rain, and I laughed at myself as I brushed away the tears with the back of my hand. The rain seems to be agreeing with me as it dropped down into a steady drizzle. Just then, I heard a soft, almost undetectable knock that I wondered if it was on my door. But since I was leaning on it, I could feel the vibration the knocks were causing. I stepped away, wondering who it could be. It was late, and most students were asleep already. The knocks came again, then silence. I hesitated.
But it must be urgent. I opened the door and was surprised to see that it was Spencer. His hair was a mess and his eyes looked seething. I didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't speak either. He just stood there looking at me, me looking back, forgetting that my cheeks might still be wet with tears.
He ran his fingers down his hair and let his hand fall on his side limply afterwards. He swallowed, as though it was hard for him to be here. "I couldn't rest until I knew you were fine," he whispered into the empty hallway.
"I'm okay," I lied in a flat tone.
This didn't seem to convince him as he pushed the door open. "Are you sure," he asked, taking a step inside my room.
He stopped just inside and stole a quick look at the space behind me. I could already envision the clothes strewn everywhere, the books in various places, the bed unmade, and my various personal things out in plain sight. It wasn't a sight you wanted the person you liked to see.
"Sorry for the intrusion," he said, his voice notably sadder than usual.
"It's okay. I'm sorry for the mess," I apologized in return. "I didn't think anyone would come here and I haven't had the time to tidy up a bit."
"It doesn't matter," Spencer spoke again, this time taking a few steps forward, towards me. I didn't move, didn't want to invite him any further. I wanted him to leave, to leave me alone. But he didn't seem to notice, as he walked languidly closer to me. "Are you really okay?"
I could feel his hot breath on my face already, and considering my predicament, it was hard to speak. I didn't think he'd buy any lie I'd say at this point anyway, since he would be aware of every inflection, every squirm, every tiny movement that I might do. Instead, I didn't answer.
And it seems he didn't need any. He had stopped walking, since there was nowhere else to walk. He was just an arm's length away from me, or maybe even closer, but I could see his face drawing nearer.
It was a slow, painful, torturous process.
He brought his face nearer and nearer, savoring every second that I anticipated his next move. I hated that I anticipated it, but it was all leading there, wasn't it? Was he going to kiss me? Finally? Was he really going to torture me up to this extent? I didn't think he could be this…cruel.
But he wasn't cruel. Instead, he was sweet, painfully, passionately sweet. His lips brushed against mine, soft and kind. It was so soft that I didn't think our lips really touched. He solved that problem by kissing me once again, this time with a little more force. Above all the emotions jumbled inside me, two stood out. Happiness and sadness. Happiness that he was kissing me with a passion that I almost wanted to drown in, and sadness that it wasn't because he liked me. Because how would he like me when there are other girls who were far better than me in every aspect?
Happiness overpowered sadness as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. He didn't seem to hesitate as he tilted his head and crushed his lips against mine, a low moan escaping his throat. I kissed back as passionately as I could--never bother with the sadness. I would deal with that later on. Right now, all that mattered was
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