Bomb: A Day in the Life of Spencer Shrike
Page 9
Colorado State University - Three years ago
“Miss Vaughn,” I say sweetly as I saunter up to her. She’s walking fast because she’s late for her early morning art class.
“Go away, you caveman. I’ll fix your stupid tattoo, but I’m not going to be nice about it. You kissed me, you know. Without permission.”
“You liked it last night.”
“Yeah, well, I was tired. And caught off guard. And manhandled.” She quickens her pace to try and give me a hint, but I don’t take hints. Besides, my legs are longer than hers. She can’t out-power walk me.
“You liked all of that last night if I remember correctly.”
She pulls open the door to the art building and I follow her in. We weave through the various displays in the shadowed room. “I like the art building,” I tell her casually. Like we’re just friends walking to class. “It’s dark and moody. Like the artists who study here.”
“Why are you following me?” she stops and asks in a huff, her foot stomping on the polished concrete floors.
“I’m going to class. I’m not following you.”
She looks over at me and scowls. “You have class here in this building at seven AM? Not likely. There’s only one class in here and it’s by invitation only,” she says with an air of superiority as she begins walking again.
I walk again too, then smile at her when she checks to see if I’m still following. “I’ve been invited, don’t worry.”
This makes her stop and whirl around to face me. “You’re in my class?”
“I am,” I say smugly. “I’m a transfer from DU. I major in business, but I take art on the side.”
“Oh.” She flips her long golden tresses over her shoulder. “A hobbyist.”
“Yeah.” I smirk and shrug at the same time. “You could call me that.”
She turns again and resumes the power walk. I catch up, pass her, and then hold the studio door open and wave her through.
“Thank you,” she says under her breath as she passes close enough for me to breathe in her scent. She smells like sugar. Seriously, like a f**king cookie or something. I watch her head across the room to gather her things. The studio is filled with students. At least forty of them. Everyone is setting up, getting ready for life drawing.
“Mr. Shrike,” the middle-aged voice calls out to me from across the room.
I look over at Bombshell and she’s watching me very carefully. I wink and shoot her with my finger, then turn and walk towards the professor with a smile. “Miss Aberdeen, thank you for fitting me in the class. I can see what you mean now, it’s packed full.”
She blushes at me. Yeah, I have that effect on women of all ages, so I shoot her a winning smile and tilt my head a bit. Ronin taught me that move. I might not be on speaking terms with him these days, but that guy knows all the f**king charm tricks. He has the women lined up like groupies.
I’m not a groupie gatherer, but this head-tilt thing works well enough on the professor in front of me. Her look says, I’m an artist. She’s got the earthy clothes that hang off her skinny frame, the glasses, the put-up hair that’s falling out all over the place, and the Birks on her feet.
She’s so earthy, I was sorta shocked when she named her condition for letting me join this class.
“Mr. Shrike—”
“Please, Miss Aberdeen, call me Spence.” I smile again and chance a look over at Bombshell. She’s set up in the front row. I already knew this. I’ve been doing recon on the Bomb since I first saw her in that fight with her brother in front of the bookstore.
“Very well, Spence.” Aberdeen blushes when she says my name and that’s sorta cute. “Next week your space is next to Miss Vaughn—”
She continues talking about what will happen next week. But I’m more concerned with what’s happening this week to give a shit about a time so far in the future, so I tune the rest out. I’m too busy looking over at the Blonde Bomb as she tries to process what’s being said.
I chuckle as Aberdeen walks away and Veronica Vaughn walks up. “You planned this. You’re stalking me, aren’t you?”
“Recon, baby. Not stalking.” And then I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it straight up over my head. Not too fast, Ronin taught me this too. He said the slow-mo shirt removal was one of the easiest ways to snag a girl. When I look back at Veronica her mouth is gaping open.
“What are you doing?” she hisses at me. “Put your shirt on!”
I drop the shirt to the floor and go for the pants. Veronica gasps when I pop the button and downright chokes when I go for the zipper. I hear a few cat calls from the back of the room as I slip my pants down.
I’m commando today, so His Highness just pops right out.
Every girl in the room explodes in laughter. It’s the good kind though. I know the difference. This laughter says, Holy f**king shit, I cannot believe he just took off his clothes!
“You look more like a cherry than a bombshell right now, Blondie,” I joke with her.
She shakes herself out of her silent stare and turns on her heel.
“Well,” Miss Aberdeen says as she claps her hands together in delight. “Mr. Shrike—err, Spence.” She smiles big as she says my name. “It’s too late now, obviously, but next time—”
“Next time?” Blondie says as she peeks out from behind her easel.
“Miss Vaughn,” I say sweetly as I saunter up to her. She’s walking fast because she’s late for her early morning art class.
“Go away, you caveman. I’ll fix your stupid tattoo, but I’m not going to be nice about it. You kissed me, you know. Without permission.”
“You liked it last night.”
“Yeah, well, I was tired. And caught off guard. And manhandled.” She quickens her pace to try and give me a hint, but I don’t take hints. Besides, my legs are longer than hers. She can’t out-power walk me.
“You liked all of that last night if I remember correctly.”
She pulls open the door to the art building and I follow her in. We weave through the various displays in the shadowed room. “I like the art building,” I tell her casually. Like we’re just friends walking to class. “It’s dark and moody. Like the artists who study here.”
“Why are you following me?” she stops and asks in a huff, her foot stomping on the polished concrete floors.
“I’m going to class. I’m not following you.”
She looks over at me and scowls. “You have class here in this building at seven AM? Not likely. There’s only one class in here and it’s by invitation only,” she says with an air of superiority as she begins walking again.
I walk again too, then smile at her when she checks to see if I’m still following. “I’ve been invited, don’t worry.”
This makes her stop and whirl around to face me. “You’re in my class?”
“I am,” I say smugly. “I’m a transfer from DU. I major in business, but I take art on the side.”
“Oh.” She flips her long golden tresses over her shoulder. “A hobbyist.”
“Yeah.” I smirk and shrug at the same time. “You could call me that.”
She turns again and resumes the power walk. I catch up, pass her, and then hold the studio door open and wave her through.
“Thank you,” she says under her breath as she passes close enough for me to breathe in her scent. She smells like sugar. Seriously, like a f**king cookie or something. I watch her head across the room to gather her things. The studio is filled with students. At least forty of them. Everyone is setting up, getting ready for life drawing.
“Mr. Shrike,” the middle-aged voice calls out to me from across the room.
I look over at Bombshell and she’s watching me very carefully. I wink and shoot her with my finger, then turn and walk towards the professor with a smile. “Miss Aberdeen, thank you for fitting me in the class. I can see what you mean now, it’s packed full.”
She blushes at me. Yeah, I have that effect on women of all ages, so I shoot her a winning smile and tilt my head a bit. Ronin taught me that move. I might not be on speaking terms with him these days, but that guy knows all the f**king charm tricks. He has the women lined up like groupies.
I’m not a groupie gatherer, but this head-tilt thing works well enough on the professor in front of me. Her look says, I’m an artist. She’s got the earthy clothes that hang off her skinny frame, the glasses, the put-up hair that’s falling out all over the place, and the Birks on her feet.
She’s so earthy, I was sorta shocked when she named her condition for letting me join this class.
“Mr. Shrike—”
“Please, Miss Aberdeen, call me Spence.” I smile again and chance a look over at Bombshell. She’s set up in the front row. I already knew this. I’ve been doing recon on the Bomb since I first saw her in that fight with her brother in front of the bookstore.
“Very well, Spence.” Aberdeen blushes when she says my name and that’s sorta cute. “Next week your space is next to Miss Vaughn—”
She continues talking about what will happen next week. But I’m more concerned with what’s happening this week to give a shit about a time so far in the future, so I tune the rest out. I’m too busy looking over at the Blonde Bomb as she tries to process what’s being said.
I chuckle as Aberdeen walks away and Veronica Vaughn walks up. “You planned this. You’re stalking me, aren’t you?”
“Recon, baby. Not stalking.” And then I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it straight up over my head. Not too fast, Ronin taught me this too. He said the slow-mo shirt removal was one of the easiest ways to snag a girl. When I look back at Veronica her mouth is gaping open.
“What are you doing?” she hisses at me. “Put your shirt on!”
I drop the shirt to the floor and go for the pants. Veronica gasps when I pop the button and downright chokes when I go for the zipper. I hear a few cat calls from the back of the room as I slip my pants down.
I’m commando today, so His Highness just pops right out.
Every girl in the room explodes in laughter. It’s the good kind though. I know the difference. This laughter says, Holy f**king shit, I cannot believe he just took off his clothes!
“You look more like a cherry than a bombshell right now, Blondie,” I joke with her.
She shakes herself out of her silent stare and turns on her heel.
“Well,” Miss Aberdeen says as she claps her hands together in delight. “Mr. Shrike—err, Spence.” She smiles big as she says my name. “It’s too late now, obviously, but next time—”
“Next time?” Blondie says as she peeks out from behind her easel.
