Fucking Bell.

Kol kicks her chair when the fucking raspberries waft around the room and fill his nose because it's a fucking headache, her perfume is a curse and it's going to need a fucking blood sacrifice to get it out of his head.

Fucking Bell puts her things down and sits in front of him, to the right, and Kol pops the gum in his mouth while leaning against his seat because he knows she hates the sound.

He's right. Bell turns around with a scowl, her hair that he's sure can fit in one fucking hand when he pulls it twisting around her back to follow her head.

Kol raises an eyebrow, chewing his gum, and rakes his eyes down from her own to her lips in their fucking shade of pink, to her neck begging to be choked, the line of her chest begging to be licked, and down to her bare stomach and the line of her skirt she also wore two Tuesdays ago.

The skirt is a lucky bitch because fuck those thighs. He should slap the shit out of them until they're red for offending him so early in the fucking morning.

Bell's jaw ticks at him the way it always does and Kol's fingers fist his desk the second she opens her goddamn pretty mouth—"My eyes are up here, Sandejas."

Ah, that voice. Kol's stomach fucking drops.

"Wasn't looking for them, doll." Save the best for fucking last.

He looks up to her eyes.

Big. Angry. Fucking sexy. Kol relishes the way she's staring at him because thank fuck. Look at me, too, fucking look at me, damn it.

She rolls them and huffs before she turns back around, legs moving around the seat.

Legs. What time do they fucking open?

Jesus. Kol wraps his tongue around his gum and makes a strategic plan in his head. Dinner. Video games. Fucking on the couch—

Bra first. Underwear next. Skirt stays fucking on—

Smile. Scratch against his torso. Hand in her hair, nose in her neck—

He makes nine new different versions of a date in his head before she turns around again with a scowl, shouldering her bag.

Like always, she meets his eyes. Kol takes satisfaction in the annoyance in them as she packs her things. Raspberries hit his nose again when she passes him and Kol has to turn his head to stare at her ass and legs when she leaves the room.

Fuck her for ignoring him when he can't think of anything else but her.

He's still angry about this at dinner with his family that night. Kol stabs his steak and looks at his brother from across the table and wonders how that fucktard with a stick up his ass managed to get a girlfriend.

Blaise went for an asshole.

Yvo sits on the lounge chair out on the patio with his phone in one hand and his stick on the other, and Kol drops down next to him with a stick in his mouth, too.

They don't talk. Until:

"The fuck did you do to make her like you."

Yvo blows out his smoke. "Fuck if I know."

Kol scowls.

"Taste and touch," his older brother says. "Ask her. They're the only ones fucking left."

Kol doesn't know how Yvo knows that and he's not going to fucking ask. He watches him go back inside, twirling his keys around his finger, and Kol knows that's the goodbye before he goes home to Blaise.

Smell, sight, sound. Bell's fucked them all.

Ah.

Taste and touch.

He's right.

*

A few months ago, Kol had fucking standards. Quiet, gentle—

"What the fuck! You fucking assholes!" a girl shouted, throwing a controller on the couch, wearing a fucking hoodie three sizes big he couldn't see if she was wearing shorts or just fucking underwear, and she tackled the guys next to her and punched the shit out of them.

He wanted that one.

"I took gum from Kol's stash," idiot number one, Grayson, says at breakfast, loudly enough for Kol to hear while he's walking towards their table. "How long do you think I have left when he finds out?"

"Ten," Kol says, sitting down next to him.

Grayson blinks, clutching his chest. "Ten what?"

"Nine. Eight."

Grayson takes his things.

Idiot number two, Blake, cackles. "Offer him Bell and he'll forgive you."

He's right.

She's not here at breakfast. Kol scowls. Where the fuck.

"She left already," Grayson says, sighing. "Eye-fucking...or eye-murdering, for that matter, is not going to get you anywhere."

"It worked for his brother," Blake counters, snickering.

He's fucking right. How'd that asshole do that.

Ah. He said to ask her.

Kol finds her in the common room of the girls dormitory with a controller in her hands. Fucking typical.

He takes a moment to stare at her legs on the couch because she's wearing a dress—a dress and she's playing fucking Tekken—before he sits down and stretches his legs.

What the fuck does his brother know.

Well, he's in a stable relationship of three years and god fucking damn it who would do that to themselves, Blaise Finch, that's who—

Bell doesn't stop playing her game and her fingers continue their assault on the controller even when she does a double-take at him, finding him there. "What do you want?" she snaps.

You. Fucking you. Whichever comes first. Kol doesn't answer and watches the screen. Her character is killing the opponent and he finds that fucking hot for no apparent reason. Jesus.

Then he stares at her fingers furiously working the buttons. The nails are short and they're not painted, but the fingers are long and pull my fucking hair, he thinks. Hold my fucking hand.

Kol's eyes go up to her face and he tilts his head to get a better look. Her hair is framing her small face and there are freckles across her fucking cheeks begging to be kissed and his fingers itch to pull the ties of her dress in the middle of her chest—

"Sandejas! Stop staring!"

Kol snaps his eyes to hers, away from her thighs he so badly wants to fuck and touch and slap, and finds her angry and confused face. So fucking cute.

"Shut up, Bell." Like you, like you so fucking—

She continues her game for another five seconds before she tosses the controller on the couch and faces him. "You're still—"

"You. Do something about this."

Bell raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"My feelings for you, you fuck. Do something."

Bell's eyebrow drops, and then she sneers at him and nearly swings her bag over his face when she picks it up and turns to leave. "Oh, fuck off, Sandejas."

Kol watches her pretty little ass go before he texts his brother. fuck you

Ask her, my ass.

fuck yourself show some fucking respect you fucking insolent prick

Kol sneers. dear brother, fuck you

Yvo replies, blaise is. so fuck yourself.

Kol takes thirty seconds to decide it's not worth it to smash his phone on the wall.

*

Bell is glaring at him at breakfast.

Kol walks in with his hands in his pockets, winks at her just because he can, and sits beside the douches.

Bell stabs her fork in her plate and it makes his lips twitch all the way through breakfast and first period until he realizes she fucking hates him and she's not going to want him or like him or fuck him.

Or say his name or pull his hair or smile at him or go on one of the fifty-six versions of the date he fucking imagines every goddamn morning that always ends with him fucking her—

"You like me, Sandejas?"

Kol looks up. She's standing at her chair, staring at him with a blank face.

He doesn't answer.

Her brows furrow. "Really?"

"I'll admit I was surprised as well," Kol drawls lowly.

She huffs. "Well, I despise you with every inch of my being."

Liar. "That's not a lot of inches," he says, spreading his legs further. "So do something."

Bell's mouth drops open. "Do what? That's not my problem!"

"You're my fucking problem."

Her eyes are blazing with fire. "Fine, I'll help you get rid of them. I'll go on a date with—"

Kol kicks her chair. "Fucking idiot. I want you to fucking like me too."

Bell's eyes widen.

Kol pops his gum.

She takes a few seconds to collect herself and Kol takes pride in the fucking flush on her cheeks. "I don't know what to do about that."

"Think of fucking something."

"Stop threatening me!"

Kol shuts up.

Bell takes a deep breath, cheeks flushed, and demands, "For starters, stop glaring at me in class."

He keeps his mouth shut.

Bell purses her lips and her throat moves. Fucking insulting his teeth aren't biting it yet. "Second, I want you to offer to walk me to my dorm."

Kol scowls. Offer?

Bell shrugs as if expecting this, seeing the look on his face, and turns to move past his row.

Kol opens his mouth and hisses, "May I fucking walk you to your fucking dorm."

"How kind of you to ask, Sandejas," Bell drawls lazily, hugging her books. "Sure."

Bitch. Cute and bratty bitch. He fights the urge to smile as he falls into step with her and smells raspberries and makes his steps smaller because her legs are fucking nice but they're short and they should be wrapped around his waist—

They both ignore the looks passing their way until she stops at her door and turns around to face him with a smile.

His stomach drops.

"Well, you could be pleasant," Bell says. "Thank you."

Kol doesn't say shit.

She puts her hand on the doorknob, but before he could step back to watch her ass before she steps inside, she curls her hand on his neck and brings him down to her and kisses his cheek. "You're cute, Sandejas."

Words. Words, words, fucking words—

"Fuck you." His stomach is fucking kicking! Doing somersaults in the fucking air!

Bell leans back on her feet and opens the door. "Mm. I'm sure you would very much like to. First, pick me up here tomorrow at five and take me to dinner."

She closes the door in his face.

Kol has to lean his head on the wall for a few seconds to calm his fucking heart before he leaves.

*

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