Stupid Boy
Page 14
The light stayed on. Always on.
Soon, with the sounds of my sorority sisters’ laughter wafting up the staircase, my eyelids grew heavy and I drifted off to sleep.
The moment my eyes popped open, Kane McCarthy was there. In my brain. Behind my eyelids, like a photograph. Five-thirty a.m. What was he doing in my thoughts so early? On my nightstand, I lifted the copy of Sense and Sensibility I’d purchased at a used book store in Covington and began reading. I’d read it a dozen times before, but it didn’t matter. Jane Austen was by far a woman I admired, and I loved all of her works. Corinne Belle had insisted I read her novels as a child, swearing it would make me more well-rounded. Little did she know I honestly enjoyed it. Sense and Sensibility and Emma were two of my favorites, and I’d read them both many times. Austen’s profound words seemed to stay with me for days on end, even after I’d closed the book.
Slipping out of bed, I hurried through my morning yoga routine, my full-body stretches, my sit-ups. Then before anyone else awakened, I pulled out the pair of trainers from beneath my bed, along with the running leggings and a light jacket, and set out for the second thing I did for sheer pleasure: run. It was something Corinne Belle would frown upon; it was something I hid from her, as well. As I eased out of Delta house, the chilled November morning greeted me, along with the still-darkened sky, and I set out to the parking lot. I didn’t dare run on campus; the park was much safer. There, I left my car, eased out, did a few more stretches, and started my morning run. Slow at first, I picked up the pace, reveling in the burn of my muscles, the long stride of my legs, the ache in my lungs. It was the one thing that really made me feel alive. Made me feel like me. Rather, what was left of me.
No one else was about. Just me, the running path, and the pond. Unavoidably, my thoughts again landed on a pair of smoky brown eyes and flawless skin. Messy hair. And I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts of Kane McCarthy.
Why was he troubling me? Wasn’t he a perfect subject for the Dare? Murphy thought he was the perfect choice. I ran harder, as if trying to put distance between me and his image, and by the time I succeeded the very hazy edge of daybreak cracked the sky. My lungs now burned, and I bent over at the waist, grabbed my knees, and sucked in volumes of crisp air. Sweat clung to my neck, and the cool air swept over it as I breathed—
“Running from something?”
Gasping, my heart leapt as I jumped. Kane leaned against the tree closest to the park bench I’d sat on the night before.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised. “Are you following me?”
Those smoky eyes regarded me in silence. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
My eyes darted through the barely-there haze of early morning. A few others had begun their morning run, so I wasn’t alone. Still, he unnerved me, and I questioned him. “Why?”
Kane must’ve sensed my unease; he remained against the live oak. He shrugged. “I was out, saw you leave. Guess I wanted to know where you were going so early.” He inspected me then, toe to head, then lifted one brow. I was utterly speechless, so I waited for him to speak. “Why do you drive twelve miles off campus to run?”
There it was again. Edgy. Caged in. I didn’t like questions, and Kane McCarthy was full of them. “It’s really none of your business.” I breathed, forcing the adrenaline pulsing through me to settle. “And frankly I think it’s pretty bizarre that you’d follow a total stranger—a girl no less.”
There was that slow, easy smile. “There you go with that strangers thing again. I told you last night. We’re not strangers anymore.” Still, he stayed where he was, propped easily against that tree, arms crossed over his chest, that leather jacket opened and exposing a dark T-shirt beneath. He pinned me with a look. “It’s safe out here? A girl like you?” His gaze held steady. “Alone?”
Wiping my damp brow with my forearm, I began edging my way to my car. “What do you mean, a girl like me?”
Now he pushed off the tree and his long legs stretched over the ground as he followed me. He shrugged. “Small. Easy target.” He rubbed his chin. “Goody-goody. Beautiful.”
That caught me off guard. It also angered me. “So only small, beautiful girls get attacked? I don’t think so. Besides, I can handle myself. And yes—this is a safe place.” I inclined my head. “The Covington Deputy Sheriff jogs here every morning and stays until after daybreak.” I glanced around and saw the sheriff on the opposite side of the lake. At the water’s edge, an old lady fed the ducks. Perfectly safe.
At the car, he caught up with me. “I’m not trying to scare you,” he said quietly. He stood close now—so much that I could smell the soap wafting off his skin. “I’d just…hate to see you get hurt.”
I opened my car door and before I could close it, Kane was there. Keeping it opened with an easy grip. When I looked up in alarm, or surprise—whatever—he was staring down at me, and there was a gentleness about his features, in the relaxed lines around his eyes, the ease of his full lips that captivated me, banishing the fear that had sprung up inside of me. It was strange. Exhilarating. Terrifying. “All women are potential targets, Harper.” His eyes grew solemn. “You just happen to be a beautiful one. Sometimes, that puts you at a higher risk.” He turned my car door loose. “Be careful.”
I barely knew what to say. I swallowed, felt the cagey feeling gnawing at me again, and I gave a nod. “Of course. Thanks.” I closed the door then, and he stepped back. After I started the engine and put the car in reverse, I looked at him, and he offered an easy smile.
Soon, with the sounds of my sorority sisters’ laughter wafting up the staircase, my eyelids grew heavy and I drifted off to sleep.
The moment my eyes popped open, Kane McCarthy was there. In my brain. Behind my eyelids, like a photograph. Five-thirty a.m. What was he doing in my thoughts so early? On my nightstand, I lifted the copy of Sense and Sensibility I’d purchased at a used book store in Covington and began reading. I’d read it a dozen times before, but it didn’t matter. Jane Austen was by far a woman I admired, and I loved all of her works. Corinne Belle had insisted I read her novels as a child, swearing it would make me more well-rounded. Little did she know I honestly enjoyed it. Sense and Sensibility and Emma were two of my favorites, and I’d read them both many times. Austen’s profound words seemed to stay with me for days on end, even after I’d closed the book.
Slipping out of bed, I hurried through my morning yoga routine, my full-body stretches, my sit-ups. Then before anyone else awakened, I pulled out the pair of trainers from beneath my bed, along with the running leggings and a light jacket, and set out for the second thing I did for sheer pleasure: run. It was something Corinne Belle would frown upon; it was something I hid from her, as well. As I eased out of Delta house, the chilled November morning greeted me, along with the still-darkened sky, and I set out to the parking lot. I didn’t dare run on campus; the park was much safer. There, I left my car, eased out, did a few more stretches, and started my morning run. Slow at first, I picked up the pace, reveling in the burn of my muscles, the long stride of my legs, the ache in my lungs. It was the one thing that really made me feel alive. Made me feel like me. Rather, what was left of me.
No one else was about. Just me, the running path, and the pond. Unavoidably, my thoughts again landed on a pair of smoky brown eyes and flawless skin. Messy hair. And I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts of Kane McCarthy.
Why was he troubling me? Wasn’t he a perfect subject for the Dare? Murphy thought he was the perfect choice. I ran harder, as if trying to put distance between me and his image, and by the time I succeeded the very hazy edge of daybreak cracked the sky. My lungs now burned, and I bent over at the waist, grabbed my knees, and sucked in volumes of crisp air. Sweat clung to my neck, and the cool air swept over it as I breathed—
“Running from something?”
Gasping, my heart leapt as I jumped. Kane leaned against the tree closest to the park bench I’d sat on the night before.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised. “Are you following me?”
Those smoky eyes regarded me in silence. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
My eyes darted through the barely-there haze of early morning. A few others had begun their morning run, so I wasn’t alone. Still, he unnerved me, and I questioned him. “Why?”
Kane must’ve sensed my unease; he remained against the live oak. He shrugged. “I was out, saw you leave. Guess I wanted to know where you were going so early.” He inspected me then, toe to head, then lifted one brow. I was utterly speechless, so I waited for him to speak. “Why do you drive twelve miles off campus to run?”
There it was again. Edgy. Caged in. I didn’t like questions, and Kane McCarthy was full of them. “It’s really none of your business.” I breathed, forcing the adrenaline pulsing through me to settle. “And frankly I think it’s pretty bizarre that you’d follow a total stranger—a girl no less.”
There was that slow, easy smile. “There you go with that strangers thing again. I told you last night. We’re not strangers anymore.” Still, he stayed where he was, propped easily against that tree, arms crossed over his chest, that leather jacket opened and exposing a dark T-shirt beneath. He pinned me with a look. “It’s safe out here? A girl like you?” His gaze held steady. “Alone?”
Wiping my damp brow with my forearm, I began edging my way to my car. “What do you mean, a girl like me?”
Now he pushed off the tree and his long legs stretched over the ground as he followed me. He shrugged. “Small. Easy target.” He rubbed his chin. “Goody-goody. Beautiful.”
That caught me off guard. It also angered me. “So only small, beautiful girls get attacked? I don’t think so. Besides, I can handle myself. And yes—this is a safe place.” I inclined my head. “The Covington Deputy Sheriff jogs here every morning and stays until after daybreak.” I glanced around and saw the sheriff on the opposite side of the lake. At the water’s edge, an old lady fed the ducks. Perfectly safe.
At the car, he caught up with me. “I’m not trying to scare you,” he said quietly. He stood close now—so much that I could smell the soap wafting off his skin. “I’d just…hate to see you get hurt.”
I opened my car door and before I could close it, Kane was there. Keeping it opened with an easy grip. When I looked up in alarm, or surprise—whatever—he was staring down at me, and there was a gentleness about his features, in the relaxed lines around his eyes, the ease of his full lips that captivated me, banishing the fear that had sprung up inside of me. It was strange. Exhilarating. Terrifying. “All women are potential targets, Harper.” His eyes grew solemn. “You just happen to be a beautiful one. Sometimes, that puts you at a higher risk.” He turned my car door loose. “Be careful.”
I barely knew what to say. I swallowed, felt the cagey feeling gnawing at me again, and I gave a nod. “Of course. Thanks.” I closed the door then, and he stepped back. After I started the engine and put the car in reverse, I looked at him, and he offered an easy smile.
