Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 103537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Crisis’ sexual references were usual, but it was the clench between my thighs that surprised me. I’d never had that.
Crisis showing up at my school put me off balance and, regardless of our texting, I was unsettled with him sitting in front of me. Just his legs outstretched beneath the table, inches from mine, made me hyperaware of him and it was a hyperaware that overpowered the numbness.
“So, what do you think?”
Had he said something else? “Huh?”
“Am I that boring, Ice? Jesus, ego is taking a beating today.”
“I highly doubt that.”
He plucked my apple from my tray and bit into it again. A solid crunching sounded as he chewed with his perfect white teeth. His hand holding the red apple moved as he spoke. “You’re right. It’s not. But I’m thinking it’s easier to get your attention if I act hurt.” He grinned. “Is it working?”
I shook my head. “No.” Maybe. I picked up my lunch and started eating again.
It was a few minutes before either of us said anything and finally I set my sandwich down and met his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Watching you.”
“Why? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I like sitting with you. It’s a hell of a lot better than staring at my phone screen waiting for it to light up.” It was said casually without that flirty tone and I felt the change in my heartbeat as our eyes locked for a second longer than I liked.
I leaned over and picked up my sloppy joe again and took too big of a bite because . . . well, I was unguarded by him and I’d been so accustomed to protecting myself from everyone for years that it was unnerving. I didn’t know how to take it. I was used to being cold and detached and, suddenly, I was heated and connected.
To Crisis.
My mouth overflowed with sloppy joe and I tried to chew it all, but some slipped from my mouth. I swallowed unchewed meat and it scratched my throat. My eyes watered and I wanted to cough, but couldn’t unless I sprayed half-eaten meat all over the table.
Jesus. I shoved my tray aside as I finally managed to swallow and wiped my mouth with the napkin.
“You not eating anymore?”
I shook my head. He took my water bottle off the tray and set it on the table and passed me the apple. He picked up the tray and strode over to the trash and tossed the rest of my sloppy joe.
I heard the four girls at the next table start to giggle and when I looked over they were staring at Crisis. He turned around and one girl darted to her feet and pranced over to him. The flock soon followed and surrounded him, blocking his way back to the table.
“Oh, my God, you’re Crisis.”
“ . . . so hot.”
“Can you sign . . . ?”
“Why are you here?”
“Do you want to have lunch with us?”
All I could see was the top of Crisis’ baseball cap as he bent his head saying something to the one girl on his right then took a pen from her hand. I couldn’t see anything now as they formed a tight ring around him. I guessed he was signing some body part because they sure as hell didn’t have their books with them.
I had no intention of sticking around for Crisis to work his way back to me. I hadn’t even told the few friends I had at school that my twin brother was Ream from Tear Asunder. The last thing I wanted was hordes of people around me asking questions or pretending to like me because of my famous brother and the band. And, of course, there was always the lingering fear of anyone recognizing me from the club. Naked pictures of me surfacing was only the tip of what could happen. Ream was famous and my shit would lead right into his if the reporters did any digging and I’d never let that happen.
I grabbed my water, picked up my book bag and threw it over my shoulder then quietly sneaked away.
“Haven!” Crisis shouted.
I weaved through the tables, pressed my palm to the swinging door and darted out into the hallway.
DANA CAUGHT ME just before I escaped into the safety of Professor Neale’s Creative Writing. I stopped and glanced past her to make certain Crisis hadn’t managed to follow me.
“Have, where are you going so fast? I’ve been screaming your name like a lunatic since the cafeteria. Who were you with? I was just coming over to your table when you took off.”
“I didn’t want to be late for class.”
“So who was the guy?”
“An old roommate.” Truth with the omittance of exactly who he was.
Dana had bouncing red curls falling all over her head as if she’d been in a wind storm, and she dressed rather . . . provocative, especially compared to me. Even at the beginning of October, it was still warm and I wore long sleeve shirts. I had no intention of being asked questions about the words burned into my wrist.
She shrugged it off. And I think that was why I was okay with Dana. She was laid back and calm, and didn’t pry into my past. Of course, she asked the usual questions: where I was from, what schools I went to. None of which I answered and she didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t, merely proceeded to tell me about herself.
She lived with her dad and older brother on the outskirts of the city. Her dad was a mechanic and had his own shop, and her brother was currently helping out. She never mentioned her mom and I didn’t ask.
“My place or yours? Just saying, my place sucks. Dad. Older brother. You know, annoying as hell.”
I didn’t know. I’d never had a dad, neither Lenny nor Olaf could ever be classified as a dad, even a bad dad. I had no idea who my father was, didn’t care, and I suspected my druggie mom didn’t know either.