Temptation

By Samantha Cain

COVER DESIGN by Matt East - for more information, contact author.

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Jason Gallagher thought he knew the truth about the world around him... until he met her.

Lillian Luster thought she fully had a grasp on what to expect... until she actually met him.

They'll soon discover that neither one of them truly knows what life has in store until they start living it. But Lillian has a secret - one that Jason may be unable to overcome.

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“So, as you know I have something that I need to share with you. It’s a little overwhelming and will possibly freak you out more than you could ever imagine, but... as you said, if I can’t trust you with the biggest most private thing about myself, how can I expect you to trust in me, right?”
I shook my head and stepped toward her. She held up her hands, signaling to me that she needed her space. She looked down at her toes, curling them in and out of the damp sand, trying desperately to find the words she needed.
“Just take a deep breath and tell me... anything. I’m ready,” I said softly.
She let out a deep sigh and steadied herself before continuing, “Okay. Well, where to start?” She pondered for a moment before saying bluntly and matter-of-factly, “I’m not human.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha Cain
• Release date: Nov 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465864291

Samantha Cain

I'm a lover of reading, writing, friends, and family, especially my USAF Airman husband and our baby pooch, Lucy. My biggest desire is to be someone who makes an impression on others through my writing! I want to be remembered after I'm gone as someone who had big dreams and actually went after them instead of letting them pass me by. I hope you'll find the work I've poured my heart and soul into as entertaining and memorable. Thanks for giving my writing a chance (: MATT EAST DESIGNED THE COVER FOR TEMPTATION - for more information on his talents, please contact me!!

Book preview

Temptation

a novel

by

Samantha Cain

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 by Samantha Cain

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SamanthaCain

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

- Chapter 1 -

Her straight, sleek hair was dark brown, verging on black. The blunt edges hit her back right underneath her shoulder blades, and anytime she shifted her weight, the hair splayed out and covered her shoulders. I’d been staring at that hair almost every day in class for a month and still hadn’t gotten the opportunity to speak to the girl underneath it. I sat behind her every Tuesday and Thursday in our Victorian Lit class for two hours. Two hours of not giving a shit what the professor was gabbing about at the front of the room. Two hours of watching her left arm muscles tighten and clench while she quickly jotted notes. Two hours of building the courage to tap her on the shoulder and simply ask to borrow a pencil. Two hours of wondering if she knew I spent two hours wondering. Every now and then, when class would go into one of those lulls where we all just stared at the professor’s moving lips, she would turn her body and lean her back against the wall, beside which her desk was positioned, and I would get the chance to glimpse at her profile.

Her pale complexion made her hair shine, and her eyes, which were just as dark as her long locks, popped out at you in a way that could take your breath away. Her eyelashes were long and easily brushed against her cheeks, which donned tons of tiny freckles. Her lips were full and rosy pink, but were often times being chewed on by her top row of teeth or pursed in frustration. She had a habit of gnawing on the inside of her lips in what seemed to be attempts at biting back comments of disagreement towards our ridiculous classmates.

Our professor spoke loudly, breaking my concentration on her, The underlying theme of the poem is rebirth… being born with the ideas of the past generations, that were never fully completed, inside of us. Our ancestors had revolutionary dreams but failed at carrying them out, so we were born with pieces of them woven within us, allowing us the chance to succeed and relish in all the hopes and desires they couldn’t.

A young girl on the other side of the class raised her hand; she had to be just out of high school. I turned my head and let my vision rest on her. The professor stopped speaking and nodded in her direction.

As she lowered her hand, she spoke, "But Dr. Walker, how can you totally overlook the rudeness the speaker shows for her ancestors? She constantly says things like their ignorance and their acceptance of like in-acceptable ways so isn’t that like, you know, disrespectful? How can you say the past generations had failed ideas? Weren’t they just doing what was like, expected of them?"

I turned my head away from the young girl and returned my eyes to the dark-haired beauty in front of me, who I noticed had stopped writing from the corner of my vision. She slowly and methodically craned her neck in the direction of the speaker and I glimpsed the glaring accusation rising within her. She clenched her jaw, but didn’t open her lips to respond. Instead, a maddened smile spread over her face and the seething annoyance she felt for this girl was evident in the way she shook her head, almost as if screaming a silent Unbelievable!

The professor responded quite calmly, though it was evident he was just as annoyed, Well Madeline, you’re missing the point. She’s using ignorance, not as a means to be disrespectful, as you said, but simply as a way to point out that her ancestors were unaware of any other way of life. The literal definition of ignorance is ‘lack of knowledge.’ It’s used much more freely today as an intelligent-sounding, yet incorrect, way to say idiot or moron, which is how you’re interpreting it. You have to keep in mind, when we’re deciphering poetry that was written in a time way before our own, you have to go back to the roots of the words as they were originally intended to be used.

Yeah, I get you Dr. Walker, but we’re reading it today. Like, shouldn’t we interpret it for today’s purposes?

I continued staring forward and saw her eyes narrow at Madeline. She slowly parted her lips, as if she were about to tear into her, but another student piped up and began to do it for her. Instead, she let her gaze return to what she’d been writing, allowing her hair to fall, covering the side of her face. She furiously began writing, and I watched her leg jiggle up and down as she tried to find an outlet for her irritability. She used her right hand to brush her hair back behind her ear, and I followed her hand down as it rested on her right thigh.

Mr. Gallagher, maybe you could enlighten us on your thoughts about that?

I sat straight up in my chair and felt my icy blue eyes bulge out, pupils immediately widening due to my embarrassment.

Um, uh, I stumbled over my words, I, um… I think there’s major symbolism, that’s uh, yet to be pointed out.

Dr. Walker smiled arrogantly in my direction, obviously having caught me in a position that I didn’t want attention brought to. He knew what I didn’t: the conversation that had been taking place right before he pulled me out the trance of my own making.

"That’s great Mr. Gallagher, but after you tell us what symbolism we’re all missing, maybe you could enlighten us about your thoughts on what I just assigned."

Almost everyone chuckled. She didn’t, but I wasn’t surprised. She was still writing, although I was certain at this point that she wasn’t taking notes. I smiled at him, ready to start my attempts at redemption, but the teacher cut me off.

Okay everyone, that’s it for today. Hopefully, for those of you not paying attention, he glanced at me, you’ll have the section on Robert Browning done, focusing largely on the poems that have biblical foundations. Have a good weekend!

Everyone stood at the same time, packing their bags and collecting books and notes in a fury of crackling paper and chairs scratching against the ground. She took her time standing, and as I was cramming my very large lit text into my very small backpack, she abruptly turned to me.

Were you staring at me? she asked quietly, trying not to draw the attention of our classmates.

Taken off guard, I fumbled over my words, ending up saying something similar to, Um, didn’t mean, sorry, huh?

She brushed her hair behind her right ear and looked at the floor, Look, she began, "I don’t mean to be so forward, but I was just wondering if you’ve been staring at me? It’s okay if you were, I mean, it’s not okay, but I’m not mad. I would just rather you didn’t."

She looked up and our gazes locked. Her eyes were a little lighter now that I was only a few feet away from them, and I noticed tiny speckles of dark green throughout her irises. I took in her whole face. Up close, you could see the beginning of worry lines around her eyes and mouth that someone her age shouldn’t have to possess, but her beauty was still overpowering.

Jason, she said quietly, gently snapping me out of my trance, you’re doing it again.

Oh, I said, now acutely aware that the classroom was entirely empty, except for the two of us. You know my name, I stated, though I’d originally intended for it to be a question.

She smiled softly and ducked her head in an attempt to make me consider I wasn’t the only one that felt like a moron. There was nothing to consider though, because she was intoxicating in the best possible way, and I was okay with looking like a fool.

Of course I do, Mr. Gallagher, she said lightly, looking me in the eyes again, don’t you know mine? We have shared a class together for a few months.

Her name. I’d yet to say it out loud. I’d only thought it in my mind, and even then, I was afraid to think it, unable to keep the thoughts that came in rapid succession when I envisioned her. Yes I knew her name, and yes I was ecstatic that she knew something about me. Something small, sure, but she’d been paying enough attention to remember my name. I couldn’t tell you one name of another person in that class, or any class for that matter, because I just didn’t care. Something about her pulled me in; something I couldn’t explain took over my thoughts when she came into my vicinity, and because of that, I made it a point to try to know things about her.

Yeah, I cleared my throat, yes I know your name. I’m sorry, I began, finally finding my voice, I didn’t mean to freak you out with the staring. I sort of zone out in this class… I didn’t mean anything by it. Look, lemme buy you a coffee or something to make up for it?

No, I don’t think that’s a good idea, she began to protest.

I cut in, There’s a coffee cart just one floor down. We don’t even have to drink it together. We can walk down there, I can get you the coffee, and we can both be on our way and forget this awkward conversation ever happened. I smiled, trying to lighten the tension in the air.

She looked at me more intently than she ever had. She truly seemed to be thinking this through. A part of me wanted to plead with her, explain to her I meant no harm. But there was a part of me, a small part, that wondered why there was hesitation. Was it because I’d given her the creeps with my laser eyes earlier, or was there something else that I was missing?

Okay, sure, she said, what could it hurt, right?

Right.

She slung her bag over her shoulder as I pulled the strap of mine over my head.

When we got to the door, I waved her ahead of me and said, After you, Lillian.

* * * * *

J-Man, whas up, mate? Didn’t think I’d run into ya ‘til later.

Mally boy! I responded with a fist bump and a grin. Malcolm Forbes was the richest kid I had encountered during my high school private academy days – he was from Scotland and a long line of Barons or something crazy like that. I was pretty sure his family lived in a castle whenever they went home to visit. But he’d lived in the U.S. for almost six years and we had met during our senior year at Lesser Prep School in Pennsylvania, and we’d instantly bonded. It helped that we were roommates and both figured it’d be easier to just get along then hate each other like so many of our classmates did with their poorly matched dorm companions. He was the only person in my entire life who knew almost every detail about me and had stuck with me anyway. So when he decided to really lay it on his Dad and not go to an Ivy League school in the U.S. or some expensive university on his home continent of Europe, I decided I had to watch out for him and keep him company. Of course, I knew that he’d eventually make up for this poor choice in undergraduate school by making sure to get into the most expensive Graduate school program on the planet, but for the time being, we were sticking by each other’s sides and taking advantage of every luxury his father threw at him.

We still on for tonight? I asked eagerly.

O’course we are, he said happily in his watered down and Americanized Scottish accent, falling into step beside me as we made our way to the bus stop. Look man, he continued, "I needcha ta squeeze in more than we’d originally intended, though. I invited ah few lovely lassies I met at Riot! Friday night."

Really? I said, looking at him sideways as we sat down on the bench. You know you’ve gotta give me more notice than that! Plus, we’ve already got everything set up to accommodate the people who paid weeks ago. Are you pitching in for them?

Malcolm shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, Naw man, they’ll pay their own way. And sorry mate, but when ya see chicks like this lookin’ fer somethin’ ta do on ah Tuesday night, ah guy like me just can’t pass that up. I mean, we won’t needta change anythin’ up too badly. How often do we come across women who can hang with our lot?

You make us sound like we’re having a damn orgy or something.

Malcolm laughed heartily, C’mon, Jay… how many bonnies do ya know that play Black-Ops? But seriously… he gripped my shoulder in his right hand and looked me square in the eyes, keep an open mind, though. Ya never know what they might be up fer.

Shut-up dude, I said, shrugging him off as I stood for the approaching bus. When we’d climbed up the steps and grabbed a seat in the back, I turned to him and said, Malc, how you holding up, for real?

Ah, quit nippin’ me Jay? Since when do we girl-talk, mate?

You’d be more of a man if you just talk about this. I’m your best friend, so I think I have the right to ask if you’re okay after what went down last week. Stacey was the love of your life–

He cut me off, "was bein’ tha key word."

Just let me finish, I said quickly. Look, I can’t imagine what it was like for you when you walked in on her fucking your brother, and I just want you to know that going out every night picking up girls isn’t going to change that.

He’s not my brother anymore. Once word leaked out in tha house about him screwin’ Stacey, a few other brothers found out that he’d been with their girls too. They kicked him out. Outta tha house, and tha fraternity. I dunno know what reasonin’ they gave, ‘cause I’m pretty sure being ah man-hoore doesn’t qualify as grounds fer kickin’ him out, but he’s gone… fuckin’ wanker. I can’t say I’m not happy about it, but it still must be uber driech fer him, which was his way of saying that it must suck.

I heard he got gonorrhea too.

We both started laughing hysterically.

I would not be surprised, Malcolm responded after a few minutes. And… he paused, looking out the window at the approaching bus stop, you’re right, about all tha bonnies. It doesn’t solve anythin’, but it makes me feel ah wee less lonely. He fake-sniffled and pretended to wipe away imaginary tears. I punched him on the shoulder and he started laughing again.

You’re an ass, you know that?

Mate, I’m fine, seriously. Aye… let’s say I’m takin’ advantage of my single-dom. Who wouldn’t in my situation?

You’re right, I finally conceded, and it is your life. I’m just trying to look out for you. Just try taking it a little easier, alright, or you’ll end up with gonorrhea, too!

He shook his head while he let another laugh bellow out of him, and then looked over at me, Okay, this is bollocks… we need ta stop this sappy shite. Can we just ride in silence, now?

I clapped him on the back of the neck and chuckled. Yeah, silence it is.

When we got to the next stop on the route and the bus doors opened, it felt like the air had been kicked out of my lungs. Before I even saw her, I knew she was close. I didn’t know how to explain it, but the hairs on my arms stood on end, my pulse quickened, and my senses were alerted. I felt like a wild animal sensing a predator, straining to use every judgment, ready to react at a moment’s notice. I sat up straighter and craned my neck to see the faces on the heads rising from the stairwell at the front of the bus. When I finally saw her face, I gasped, freaked about the fact that I could feel her, and honestly scared to know what it meant.

Jason? Malcolm whispered. He was watching me and searching my face for an explanation for the way I’d just reacted. He followed my gaze to the girl who had just sat down six seats in front of us, watched her for a few moments, and then looked back at me. He nudged me with his elbow and pulled me out of the stupor I’d fallen into.

Jay, what tha hell?

Um, sorry… I – I dunno what’s wrong with me.

"Who is that?" Malcolm asked, returning his eyes to her.

That’s Lillian Luster, I spoke, barely above a whisper, she’s in Walker’s class with me.

"She’s bloody gorgeous, like crazy hot… and that’s seriously her name?"

I nodded my head not taking my eyes off her.

That’s even hotter, like a super villain outta ah comic or somethin’. He chuckled, still gawking at her.

I felt my cheeks start to get warm, and I was sure they’d turned deep red. Yeah, she is amazing, I said, looking down at my hands.

Malcolm turned his head to look at me and said, So… what’s tha deal? Did somethin’ happen between ya two?

"I dunno if I’d call it something. She sorta thought I was creepy, staring at her in class and stuff, and I mean, I watched her sometimes, but nothing weird," I said softly. I wasn’t sure if I was lying or telling the truth. I didn’t want to stare at her, but it was almost as if I couldn’t control myself. I would feel fine and then she’d walk into the room and my attention would be completely consumed by her. I tried telling myself I was being paranoid, but it was like magic, utterly unexplainable. She confronted me about it today in class, and I tried to explain myself, though I dunno if she bought it. And then, I bought her a coffee… nothing else. We didn’t even speak on our way to the coffee cart, and then she just said ‘Thanks’ and went on her way.

Ya got ah thing fer her, doncha? Malcolm teased.

Dude, c’mon. Just leave it alone. Sure, like you said, she’s hot. I paused, carefully choosing what I’d say next. Should I tell him how much I liked her or should I just drop it?

Aye, she’s intense. Ya sure ya aren’t interested?

I decided to play it down, Nah, I’m not looking to get involved with her, or anyone for that matter. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

So… he looked over at me, she’s fair game, then? ‘Cause if ya aren’t gonna go after that, he diverted his gaze back to her, that’s bloody braw fer me then. He subtly licked his lips, like she was a piece of meat he was about to bite into. I secretly hoped he hadn’t done it intentionally, because it made my stomach flip thinking he was looking at her in such a way.

I laughed it off, trying to change the subject and not let on how it bothered me, because it worried me a little that his normal behavior was sickening me. I couldn’t understand what was so different about her, especially because I’d only exchanged maybe ten words with her. She was just like any other chick that Malcolm dissected and drooled over.

Didn’t we just talk about this? I said light-heartedly, pressing through my discomfort.

He laughed back and finally looked away from Lillian, "Aye, but that was before I saw that bonnie."

The bus came to a stop and almost everyone got up at once. Lillian quickly shuffled into the aisle and filtered off with the crowd at the front. Malcolm and I got stuck behind a girl with two backpacks, causing a small pile-up. We slowly made our way to the door, and once we were outside on the pavement, I looked around for her, but it was as if she had vanished. Malcolm didn’t seem to notice and turned to me and said, So… I’m parked in bum fuck Egypt over there, he motioned to the farthest corner of the parking lot, I guess I’ll see ya tonight?

Yeah, I said motioning to my truck just a few feet away, I’m just over here. It starts at six so don’t be late.

Me, late? Never!

I shook my head and sarcastically responded, Ah, that’s right, I must have you confused with my other pathologically late best friend, my bad.

We turned from each other and walked in the direction of our vehicles. I made my way over to my ‘97 Ford Ranger, and as I opened the driver side door, I noticed the hunter green paint that had begun to peel around the door frame. I’d had the same car since I’d turned sixteen, and was in desperate need of a step-up.

After I climbed inside and shut the door, an immediate feeling of relief washed over me. It was as if I’d been holding my breath for the past twenty minutes and I’d finally let it out. I shuddered slightly, completely freaked out by the puzzling sensations I’d been having. I’d never been one to believe in the supernatural, like ghosts or spirits, but I had this overwhelming intuition that someone, or something, was watching me.

I shook it off, the urge to look over my shoulder or out across the parking lot fading, and started the engine of my truck. Right as I pulled out of the lot, my phone vibrated softly in my jacket pocket, but it was enough to make me jump. When I realized that I was overreacting, I laughed it off and answered the call.

Hello?

Hey man, you home yet?

My