Poison: Devil's Rose MC #4

Chapter 2: Dakota Knight

I jump about a mile high from the wooden stool that makes me butt sore. I let out a small squeak, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean to fucking scare you. Shit. Dakota, really, I'm so sorry."

"No, no. No worries at all. I'm jumpy."

"Just like you were as a kid."

"Some things don't change, you know."

"Right, we should catch up sometime. You could swing by the bar at some point."

"I don't know about that Poison. Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. You really should, and you can meet everyone. It'll be like a little reunion."

Antonio claps his hands in excitement, moving towards the desk that I currently want to curl under and never be seen again.

"Can I ask why you are in here anyway?"

"That's offensive. I can read."

"That I'm definitely not sure about. Do you remember when we used to read The Magic Treehouse and you would always stumble on the word treehouse? You could not pronounce it for the life of you."

"I will let you know that I can say treehouse well now, thank you."

"Doesn't prove you're literate."

"I read Dostoevsky yesterday, so you can't touch this, bitch."

Okay, maybe he hasn't changed that much. I thought he would have, being in a motorcycle club and all, but that's pretty much the guy I knew in high school. There were so many instances where I couldn't believe the things he said or that he even existed because he's said so many weird things. It was pretty constant. 

But I guess he hasn't matured in that sense at all. That makes me feel slightly better.

And he keeps getting closer to the desk. I can smell his cologne, subtle wafts of citrus and fresh wood float off of his skin and into the air. I don't mind it that much; it smells quite good. 

He rests his hands at the edge of the desk, curling his fingers out the top, and squeezing. His veins pop out from under his skin, and I try not to drool at the sight. He knows what he's doing, but he doesn't give two shits about it. He wants to make me suffer.

"Anyway, you should come by when you can. We need to catch up."

"Maybe. I'll try."

Antonio flashes his white and beautiful teeth at me before disappearing through the aisles and rows of books. I never thought that after getting my master's degree in comparative literature, specializing in postcolonial literature, I would work in a library in my hometown. 

I love libraries, don't get me wrong at all, and I do adore my job, but it's not what I was expecting from my life. I hoped to stay as far away from this place as humanly possible while still staying in the US. However, the past catches up to you and you can only run for so long.

"When do you get off work?"

I glance between Antonio and the clock, my insides shriveling when I see I get off my shift in two minutes. Not that I don't want to spend time with him, I just don't want to spend time with him right now.

"Uh, soon. Why?"

"You wanna grab lunch?"

"Do you think we could do that another day? I'm off tomorrow, so that would be better for me."

"Yes, perfect. Noon at the bar?"

I nod my head, words getting caught in my throat. Am I going to wake up tomorrow and immediately want to cancel because I'm 'sick?' Yes. Am I going to feel guilty afterward because I bailed on him? Yes. If I use the excuse of being sick, will Antonio actively search me out and bring me soup only to find out I was lying? Yes. That wouldn't help my case at all.

"Okay, yeah. I'll see you then."

"Yeah."

He sends me a small wave as he walks out the library door, the bell on the top ringing twice before ceasing. I cannot believe that I just said yes to him. If I show, I have no idea what I'll be getting myself into. 

And if I don't, he most definitely will send the whole Devil's Rose MC after me, out of either worry or frustration or both. I'm grateful he cares, but I don't know if I want all that attention on me.

I've never been good with attention, which is why I let my younger brothers take it. It's not like it was difficult for my parents to switch the amount of attention they were giving me to them with all the troublemaking going on. 

Antonio's attention has never made me uncomfortable though. Even as someone I don't know very well, as a transformed person, I don't feel uneasy around him. That could be a reason why I said yes to lunch.

The rest of my work day is easy, not many people come in and out of the library. At five p.m., when most people get off work, I clock out, waving goodbye to the head librarian. I step outside the library door, the heat blasting in my face, and I scrunch my nose in discomfort. 

I wouldn't say I hate the heat, but I don't like the change in temperature between an air-conditioned building and the boiling outside. It just doesn't sit right with me.

But that's not the only thing that catches me off guard when I walk outside, it's Antonio who leans against his motorcycle, staring down at a book - I think it's The Catcher in the Rye. I freeze, my mouth parting slightly. 

What the heck is he doing here? And why is he just standing there like he's waiting for something or more likely someone? I do not understand this man anymore. As a kid, he could barely sit still for one minute, and now he reads.

"Poison?"

He looks up from his book, closing the cover. I was right, it is The Catcher in the Rye.

"Dakota. I thought I would drive you home."

"Oh, um, I live right down the street. I usually walk."

"It's on my way home, I didn't think you would mind. But you are welcome to walk if you would be more comfortable."

"No, I promise it's not that, this is just unexpected."

"A good unexpected?"

"I'm unsure."

"That's alright, I'll leave you to it."

Why don't I want him to stop talking to me?

"You know killers were obsessed with that book."

"What The Catcher in the Rye?"

"Yeah, Mark David Chapman, who had an obsession with the book, murdered John Lennon."

"I guess that fits with my life pretty well."

His face cringes as he realizes what he's said, but I don't understand its meaning. It's not like he's a killer or anything, he just likes the book for what it is. Right? 

I switch my plain white tote bag onto my other shoulder, a hot breeze making my hair flutter and my face flush with another wave of heat. I slowly move towards the direction of my apartment building as we stand there in awkward silence. This has been a weird day. I need sleep.

"Are you sure you don't need a ride?"

I pause for a moment, feeling my arms sticky with sweat and exhaustion fill my body. I mean, what's the harm? It's just a quick five-minute ride. I turn around to face Antonio to become surprised at his unwavering gaze. 

Has he just been staring at me fight myself in my head for the last thirty seconds? Or at least what feels like thirty seconds. Wouldn't it be funny if he all of a sudden thought I was too weird and bolted? Like, 'I changed my mind. I'm outta here.' That would also be kind of sad but kind of funny too, right?