No Two Hearts

Chapter 8

Red Winstons.

    School had only been let out for a couple minutes, and I could already see Clark leaning in the shade of an enormous oak tree, smoking another cigarette.

    Since this morning, I had seen him smoke six cigarettes, each and every one coming from the same packet of red Winstons. I wonder why he only smokes using a brand that can be hard to find instead of something they sell in every store, like Marlboros.

The guy must have a death wish, because I don't know anyone who smokes that many in under three hours just cause.

    I stood at the edge of the school's parking lot watching him, students all around me chatting in small groups or heading home.

    He looked peaceful, but less in a happy way, and more in a 'I'm at peace with my whole life going to shit' kind of way. The repetitive motion of him inhaling and exhaling the smoke was almost hypnotizing.

    His cheeks hollowed as he sucked in the hot smoke, before lowering his arm and releasing it into the air in front of him.

He scared me. In more ways than one.

    Earlier today, when he threatened me in the stairwell, I had felt helpless, my blood running cold when his blue eyes turned darker than any brown ones I had ever seen. I was genuinely concerned for my safety when he pressed himself up against me, leaving no room to run.

    But what was worse than the physical fear he caused me to feel, was the emotional fear. Clark was unsafe, risky, dangerous even.

    And maybe my past traumas are what attracted me to that, but regardless; I'm terrified that he'll use that attraction to his advantage, and play me like I've been played so many times before.

    So standing here, watching him slowly inhale a cigarette with an aura that ensured no one dared approach him, I wanted so badly to talk to him. Learn more about him. Ask him about himself.

    But I wasn't allowed questions. He had made that pretty clear.

"Hi miss."

    I turned at the greeting, finding it belonged to the man Clark had thrown a cigarette package at earlier. He shut his car door behind him and smiled at me.

    "Oh hi. Sorry I didn't see you there, Mr..." I trailed off, realizing I didn't know the man's name yet.

    "Nobitt. James Nobitt- and please, call me James. I didn't catch your name?"

    "Oh, right. It's Kinsey Miller," I responded, feeling a little uncomfortable.

    A grown man, who I could tell was quite well off from the sleek black Audi he had just stepped out of, approaching the same high school student twice in one day- not something that screams, "This is normal!".

    "I was hoping to briefly speak to you about your friend? The one who's cigarette package landed at my feet earlier today, and who conveniently disappeared before he had to face the music," he questioned with a joking smile.

    "He's not really my friend actually, sorry to disappoint. Um, this is my first day here and we were just partnered up for a project, so other than his name, I don't know much about him. Sorry about that."

    I was suddenly very curious why a man like this would be so interested in Clark, "If you don't mind me asking, what are you trying to find out about him?"

    "No problem at all. Your friend- sorry. Your partner," he corrected himself with a smile, "applied for an internship at my company recently. It's a very rigorous selection process, and we try to find out as much as we can about each candidate before seriously considering their applications."