Chapter 5 #3
I notice two things. One, she’s mad as hell. And two, she’s gorgeous. Her eyes are puffy like she’s been crying. But that doesn’t fit with the air of determination in the set of her full lips. So now I’m curious.
“What the hell . . .” she hisses. She doesn’t seem too amused that somebody was watching her. Rookie error. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my throat.
“True, though.” I stick my hands in my pants pockets and walk around her. She doesn’t even look at me. OK, there’s just a glance, for a split second, and I feel it arouse something I never knew I had within me. “You don’t have the guts to do that for real.”
Her eyes are huge, and it’s too dark to see what color they are, but they glitter dangerously. I find that kind of amusing.
“You don’t know me,” she says.
“True.” I give a bored shrug. “And you don’t know me. Great, huh?”
She goes to walk past me so I block her path. I kind of hate myself for that because I’m taller than her and stronger, and I always swore I’d never use those attributes to take advantage of a woman. But she’s daring me.
I nod past her to the indirectly lit case.
“That you?” Say what you like about me, but you can’t call me unobservant.
I notice shit. For instance, that there’s a big team photo among all the trophies and certificates, and that she’s in the middle of it, holding a medal that hangs around her slim neck on a wide ribbon.
She’s wearing sports clothes and her dark hair is in one of those messy buns that really do it for me, sadly.
Her eyes are sparkling. Not like they were just now.
But like she gives a damn. There’s life in her eyes, life that I can’t see when I look at her now.
She turns away and hunches her shoulders together.
“What’s it to you?”
“Impressive,” I remark, stepping closer to the display. So now I’m not in her way, but to my satisfaction, she doesn’t leave. Of course she doesn’t. Because she’s intrigued by me. I can sense it, and I don’t like it. Because I’m intrigued by her too.
“What happened?” I ask, once I’ve checked out the achievements of the team that she can’t be part of anymore.
Because she wouldn’t be this emotional if she was.
“Accident? Got kicked out? Got beat in the heats?” Her face is as white as the moon as I turn back to her.
Her eyes narrow to warning slits. “Drugs? Doping? Some kind of scandal?”
“What the fuck’s your problem?” she spits, taking a step toward me. I want to grin in appreciation, but I stop myself.
“You’re pissed,” I say, feeling her grow even angrier. “I’m just trying to help.”
Before she can answer, I pull off my hoodie. As my head emerges from beneath it, I notice her eyes dart to my belly, then back to my face. The black T-shirt I’ve got on underneath rode up, and she hastily looks away again. “I don’t need anyone’s help,” she declares.
“Yeah, you do.” I press my sweater into her hand. “If you don’t do this now, you’ll stay mad.”
She lifts her head, and the disdain has gone from her eyes.
She opens her mouth, but I don’t let her speak.
“So you don’t cut yourself.” I point to the hoodie. “It’s more fun this way, trust me.”
“You’re insane,” she says in a toneless voice.
I shrug and step away from the glass case again.
I study her body as I wait to see what she’s going to do.
She’s wearing the fancy school sweater with black leggings, and that combination is my downfall.
Long legs, slim ankles. She’s actually kind of tiny, but she doesn’t look like anyone ever told her so.
It’s her way of standing. Upright posture, chin up, proud gaze.
Right now, it’s focused on my hoodie in her hands, and she doesn’t have the guts. I know it and try not to sigh.
“Would it give you the same relief to just watch?”
She looks at me. “What . . . You mean . . . ?”
“You can’t hesitate.”
She tears her eyes away and wraps the thick fabric around her right hand. When she lifts her arm, she flinches slightly. And then she hesitates again.
I can feel her fighting with herself. Breathing hard, jutting her chin. But she does nothing.
“Accident,” she says suddenly.
It takes me a moment, but then I realize she’s answering my question.
“It was an accident.”
Aha. That old classic. Lose focus for one moment and bang go your dreams. Pity.
“Oh, OK,” I say. “Yeah, I’d be mad too.”
She gulps and stares back at the case like she could smash the glass just with her eyes. And I’d believe that.
“Were you good?”
She laughs. It’s a dry, arrogant laugh, and I like it. “I was the best.”
“Ouch.”
She lowers her arm.
“And now you don’t know who you are anymore,” I say.
Her shoulders start to shake. “It’s so fucking unfair,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Yeah.”
“Why did it have to be me?”
My throat constricts slightly. “Yeah, why you?”
As she turns back to me, I wrench my eyes off her face and reach for the sweater. I can feel the pressure in my chest. I can feel her tension. I know it’s not going away, but I also know that the first time is the hardest.
“You need to break something, or the anger’s gonna break you,” I say, and then I do it for her, without a second’s hesitation.
The girl jumps back as the glass shatters and rains down on the floor.
Relief floods through me, along with adrenaline.
I can tell by her shocked face that she feels the same way.
She stares at the case and then at me. I shake the glass out of my hoodie and reach for her arm with my other hand.
I don’t know if it’s wise to run back in the direction I came.
I only know that we have to be out of here when the lights go on.
Of course, I could just wait here to be caught, which might be the quickest way of getting kicked out on the spot, but now it occurs to me that my mom’s only an hour and a half away by plane, so she’d pop right back up to smooth everything over with a few dollar bills, then have me straight on a plane to Zurich, where the next boarding school would be waiting for me.
I need a plan that’ll leave her with no choice but to let me come back to New York.
All those thoughts come up as we creep along the dark corridors.
We stop on some stairs, the ones I just came down.
Her accident can’t have been long ago because as we climb them, I see that my nameless fellow student is struggling.
When I glance over, she’s gripping the banister, but her face is like flint.
She hesitates as we reach the third floor.
She looks at me, and my heart races. It’s dark. I’m alive.
“Thanks,” she says, then vanishes through the heavy door onto her wing. Downstairs, the light goes on.