Bite Me by A.J. Cole (classic novels to read .TXT) 📕

grumped silently. In fact, it was disgusting how cloyingly sweet they were to each other in February, what with her mother dropping gift hints that were about as subtle as a pie in the face. As for her father, well! He would act like he had no idea what she meant, but since his acting ability was on the same level as that of a catfish, his beloved wife would be overcome by giggling fits and Meloria would either have to leave the house or beat them to death with her mother’s heart-shaped cake pan. This year, she’d managed to avoid them completely during the Valentine season, and hoped that with only a few days left before the actual day, she’d escape having to see them behaving like teenagers in heat.

She finished her meal, cleaned up, and went out to the hall to get her purse and jacket. As she headed for the front door, a sly smile appeared on her face as an idea took hold and began to congeal. Surely she wasn’t the only person on the planet who hated Valentine’s Day – in fact, there were probably hundreds, maybe even thousands, who despised it as much as she did. Their reasons would be unimportant, of course, the only salient fact being their disdain for it. So…why not devise something that reflected those feelings? A kind of Anti-Valentine’s Day line of products – now this was an “aha!” moment worth noting!

The familiar walk through the evening darkness went quickly, her mind fully occupied with her new idea. The first “sacred cow” of Valentine’s Day that she’d go after was the candy. She’d have the pastel hearts in her inventory, only the messages on them would be antithetical where this holiday was concerned. On their powdery little surfaces would be words like, “Kiss My Ass,” “Be My Enemy,” “Drop Dead,” “Get Lost,” or (her favorite so far) “Bite Me.” Yesss! As for the dumb cards, they would be –

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She stopped without turning around and said, “If you aren’t either someone I know, or someone looking for directions, I suggest you run far, far away.”

An obviously male individual cleared his throat before replying, and she crossed her arms, still refusing to turn and look at him. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m neither. Uh, but I saw you walking along, apparently oblivious to the three guys following you half a block back, so I got out of my car and came over here to talk to you, hopefully discouraging them from trying anything.”

Meloria frowned – was this merely a clever ruse to…she mentally smacked herself for thinking words that sounded like a badly-scripted thriller and finally faced him. She swallowed, willing herself not to freak. He was flipping GORGEOUS! Her inner teenager started fanning itself with one hand as it squeaked, “ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!” Aloud she calmly asked, “Where? I don’t see them.”Of course you don’t! she yelled at herself. You’re only looking at him!

She tore her gaze away from his beautiful features and tried to look over his shoulder, but it was blocking her view, so she leaned sideways to peer around him. The words, “Damn, you smell good!” almost burst from her lips, but as she caught sight of three thuggish-looking individuals walking purposefully toward them, the words “Holy shit!” muscled past, making him glance quickly over his shoulder. “Holy shit, indeed,” he murmured, grabbed her arm, and propelled them forward. “Where were you going?”

“The Easy-Mart on the next corner.” She nodded unnecessarily at the glowing green sign ahead and wondered if this guy was actually a jerk in real life. She hoped not.

“Oh – you work there, then?”

“Yeah – how did you kn- ”

“Nametag. Your jacket is open.”

“Oh, right.”

The footsteps of the three youths behind them had grown louder, indicating how much closer they were. “Objects in Eardrums are Closer Than They Sound,” her mind babbled. She was terrified – not of being attacked, but of what she would do to them if they did, which would probably send Mr. Magnificent screaming off into the night.

Meloria and her yummy rescuer reached the parking lot before breaking into a dead run, realizing they would otherwise be overtaken by the three youths. Once inside, she grabbed the store phone from behind the counter and put it to her ear; the trio was standing outside, leering at her through the glass, but when she gave them a significant stare and pointed at the phone, they proved that stupidity didn’t always accompany bad behavior, and left. She heaved an audible sigh, replaced the phone, and leaned back against the counter.

“You okay?” asked Eye Candy.

“Yeah – thanks. I really appreciate your help.”

He smiled, and she nearly asked if he would mind having is ear nibbled on. “I’m just glad nothing bad happened. You, uh…” he trailed off, seeming to lose the rest of his intended sentence as he took a more detailed look at her. He cleared his throat. “You…you know, you…look, I’m not…I seriously don’t make a habit of saying things like this to girls I don’t know, but you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen.” And then he actually blushed, and Meloria had to hold herself back from doing, oh, maybe seven or eight very naughty things to him.

“How kind of you to say that,” she managed instead. Her voice was surprisingly free of huskiness, and she promised it a nice treat later for being so cooperative.

“Hey, it’s Vampire Girl!”

Because Meloria had had years of practice in controlling her temper, Toby would never know exactly how close to death he’d come that night.

Cute To The Hundredth Power regarded both of them with a frown that Meloria’s libido filed under “Ain’t That The Sexiest Thing You Ever Saw!” and put his head to one side. “Why would you call her that?”

“What – she didn’t tell you?” Toby shook his own head (again not realizing he was mere nonoseconds from not having one to shake) and chuckled as he made his way to the small door that gave him access to the other side of the counter.

“Tell me what?”

“TOBY!” Okay, that had come out a lot louder than she’d intended and she tried again. “Er, Toby, this lovely gentleman saved me from getting mugged on my way to work.” Lovely gentleman? What am I? Katherine Hepburn?

“Really!” The store manager lowered the empty cigarette cartons he was crushing and gave the young man a curious look. “How did you do that?”

“Wait – I’m sorry,” said Meloria. “I never introduced myself. I’m Meloria Westfall, and this is my boss, Toby Green.”

“Nice to meet you both,” he replied, grinning in a way that made her have to grip the counter behind her to keep from squirming. “I’m Melvin Carrington.” He put out a hand, which Toby leaned over the counter top to shake.

MELVIN?!?! You have GOT to be kidding me!!!! She nearly wept. Why was there always something screwy with every guy –

“Everyone calls me Mel, though.”

Hope made a cautious appearance on her horizon. “Really? That’s what everyone calls me, too!”

“Ha!” Toby slapped the counter with one hand. “Mel and Mel! Guess you guys have to start going out now!”

For a third time, Toby’s demise seemed pretty much inevitable. In fact, the only thing that saved him now was the way Mel(vin) was biting his lower lip and giving Mel(oria) a considering stare. A few seconds later the young man took a step closer to her and whispered, “What do you think?”

“About what?” The idea of jumping you right here in front of God, Toby and, well, God and Toby?

“Going out.”

A million – or some stupidly high number – objections started shouting at her, reminding her of this or that problem with going out with the guy, and she looked down at the floor to hide her sudden conflict. She told the raging crowd of nay-saying thoughts to shut the hell up so she could think, and stared at Mel(vin)’s shoes while another thought reminded her of what was filling those Nikes. Knowing how bad it could be to respond impulsively, she took a slow, deep breath, raised her gaze until it met his, and shook her head “no,” yet somehow heard her very own voice say, “Why not?” and angrily retracted the offer of a treat.

Immediately, the sun came out. Not really. Mel(vin) had smiled a huge, happy smile, and Mel(oria) thought she was going to go blind. Had this been a movie, sappy music would have slowly crescendoed from somewhere and the joyous couple would have shared their first, tender kiss.

“Did you clock in?” Toby was batting a thousand.

“Not yet.” You vile man.

“Oh, hey, sorry – you have to get to work and I’m holding you up.”

Melvin's apology yanked her mind away from the image of Toby being crammed into a leaf-shredder. “Not at all,” she said, wishing he was holding her, period.

“Yeah, I am. Here.” He reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and removed a silver business card which he offered to her. “My cell number is the one on the right, under my email address. Please call me?”

“Sure.” She took the card, stopped herself from slipping it suggestively into her bra, and dropped it into her purse instead. “I will.”

“Cool.” He turned and went out, looking pleased; she wasn’t sure he’d heard the weak-kneed “Thank you” she called after him.

And then he was gone. She spun around and glared at Toby. “Not a word,” she warned, “not a syllable. Got that?”

The man raised both hands in a sign of surrender, but that didn’t stop him from uttering a close-mouthed snort of laughter. Near-fatal moment number five. She heard a distant Dracula muppet go, "Five! Five near-fatal moments! Ha, ha, ha!" Meloria groaned and went to the back to clock in.

Another thought assaulted her as she was shoving her card into the punch-clock, a thought that reminded her in a taunting kind of way that Valentine’s Day was almost upon her, and that maybe this year she wouldn’t be all alone. Then it elbowed her in the ribs, winked, and wandered off, chortling.

She sighed, decided that none of this was going to prevent her from looking into the Anti-Valentine’s Day concept, and then wondered how this other Mel was going to react when she told him about her condition.

~Three~

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?” asked Meloria. She was sitting on the pool deck at her friend Carlina’s house, basking in the light of a full moon. Through the open French doors behind her came strains of Enya, which normally drove her crazy – she couldn’t stand New Age music in any form, and had once told her friend that if she played “Orinoco Flow” one more time, the only thing that was going to flow was blood. Carlina’s, to be exact. Her friend had laughed heartily, knowing Meloria well enough to be amused and nothing more by the threat. On this evening, though, the irritating melodies simply oozed around her, meaningless, and yes, she was smiling.

“Like someone with a really delicious secret,” said Carlina who was sitting next to her on another folding deck lounger.

“Hmm. No.”

“What? You are, too, you brat! What aren’t you telling me?”

Mel’s smile became a