Stupid Boy
Page 21
He didn’t look offended by my words; how could he be? He certainly hadn’t been shy about bluntly listing my supposed qualities. He might suspect some things, but he hadn’t even cracked the surface.
“I guess we all have a few secrets, yeah?” he said, his voice husky and blending with the quiet morning air. His words caught me off guard, and so did the shift in his eyes. They always seemed, soft, somehow, but now? A flash of something, almost undetectable, and almost too fast to notice. But I had. “What time?”
I blinked again. “Excuse me?”
His smile came easy. “Turkey Run? Or are you retracting your invitation? You know, being as I’m a thug and all.”
I felt heat creep up my throat and fan at my cheeks as my accusations pinged back at me from Kane’s mouth. I wasn’t accustomed to insulting people—especially total strangers. It left a bad taste in my mouth. “Six a.m. At our house.”
Kane rose. “What if I want to run?”
I also stood. “You’ll have to pay the entry fee.”
He faced me then, standing close, and the way his eyes moved over me? He might as well have been touching me. Never had I met someone who possessed such emotion in only their eyes. It stirred something inside of me. Something I couldn’t decide if I liked, or feared. “Yeah? What kind of fee?”
“Thirty dollars.” I couldn’t seem to look away from him. Like I was trapped in a trance.
His body shifted closer. Hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. Seemingly harmless. But I knew better. “If I pay a hundred will that ensure me a place beside you?”
I drew in an inconspicuous breath, slowly released it. Steadied my voice so it didn’t seem like he affected me as much as he did. “Not really,” I replied. “It would depend on the kind of runner you are.” I looked at him now, in the early hours of dawn, and he was even more beautiful than I’d once thought. How was that possible? Sounds invaded my thoughts; a hedge trimmer’s motor hummed from somewhere on campus. A car door slammed. Voices floated on the wind. When had Winston awakened? And how had I been so oblivious to it?
My eyes fixed on his mouth as he spoke. I couldn’t help it.
“I’ll take my chances,” he said in that husky, quiet Boston voice, then called over his shoulder as he lumbered away. “See ya in the morning.”
I stared after Kane McCarthy as he disappeared across the quad and faded into the hazy morning light. Just like his voice, his stride was easy and effortless as those long, muscular legs carried his equally solid, tall frame. Like an ethereal being, he simply…vanished. Like a ghost. A spirit. Was he even real? Was this situation I’d suddenly found myself in, real? It could’ve been a dream. Or a nightmare.
No, I’d had plenty of nightmares. Kane McCarthy definitely wasn’t one of them.
This was a situation I’d promptly placed my own stupid self in. And it was one I’d need to fast get a grip on if I was going to pull off our private Dare against the Kappas. I couldn’t let Kane get under my skin.
As I maneuvered throughout my day, surrounded by fellow Winston students, sorority sisters, acquaintances, I realized that despite how many conversations I had, how many phony smiles I gave out, one thing was for certain.
I truly was alone. Alone, I understood. My back against a wall, enclosed, I felt safe. As long as I held people at a distance, they wouldn’t suspect the real me. Wouldn’t ask questions. Wouldn’t crack the code to my internal safe.
Safe. Safety. It meant as much to me as trust did to others. I knew why; always had known why.
When I thought hard about it, it really only came down to one thing.
A small, dank, smelly kitchen cabinet.
The rest of the day dragged by; so did I. My forced buoyancy was beginning to wear thin on me, for some reason. In the past, it’d been rather easy, that false persona. Why had it grown difficult? Like, overnight? What was wrong with me?
Later that afternoon, the Delta house was abuzz with activity. Setting up the starting line for the Turkey Run, stretching the hand-made banner from our side of the street to the Kappas’. I never did catch sight of Kane again, and somehow, that disappointed me. He may be a thug, but he was an intelligent one, well-versed and I sincerely enjoyed talking to him—when he wasn’t busy pointing out my supposed flaws, that is. Something about his persona intrigued me. Interested me. The way he studied me so thoroughly, just before he spoke. No one had ever gained my attention in that way, ever. And he remained on my mind for the rest of the day.
After darkness fell, Delta sisters gathered in the common room to make the numbers that would be pinned to the participants’ shirts. Crates of bottled water sat at our front door. I busied myself in our small kitchen making chocolate chip cookies for the participants as they crossed the finish line at the Killian fairgrounds entrance tomorrow. Murphy sat on the counter, the bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips opened and dangerously in her hands.
She popped one in her mouth. “What’s up with you?” she asked. “You look like pure shite, you do.”
I looked at her and almost smiled at the comical lines of concern pulling at her brows. I leveled the flour in the measuring cup with a knife and added it to the mixture. “I’m just tired, I guess.” I mixed in the cup of flour, then turned off the beaters. “Kane is meeting me here in the morning. He’s helping out with the run,” I said, and leveled the second cup of flour. I gave Murphy a sideways glance.
“I guess we all have a few secrets, yeah?” he said, his voice husky and blending with the quiet morning air. His words caught me off guard, and so did the shift in his eyes. They always seemed, soft, somehow, but now? A flash of something, almost undetectable, and almost too fast to notice. But I had. “What time?”
I blinked again. “Excuse me?”
His smile came easy. “Turkey Run? Or are you retracting your invitation? You know, being as I’m a thug and all.”
I felt heat creep up my throat and fan at my cheeks as my accusations pinged back at me from Kane’s mouth. I wasn’t accustomed to insulting people—especially total strangers. It left a bad taste in my mouth. “Six a.m. At our house.”
Kane rose. “What if I want to run?”
I also stood. “You’ll have to pay the entry fee.”
He faced me then, standing close, and the way his eyes moved over me? He might as well have been touching me. Never had I met someone who possessed such emotion in only their eyes. It stirred something inside of me. Something I couldn’t decide if I liked, or feared. “Yeah? What kind of fee?”
“Thirty dollars.” I couldn’t seem to look away from him. Like I was trapped in a trance.
His body shifted closer. Hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. Seemingly harmless. But I knew better. “If I pay a hundred will that ensure me a place beside you?”
I drew in an inconspicuous breath, slowly released it. Steadied my voice so it didn’t seem like he affected me as much as he did. “Not really,” I replied. “It would depend on the kind of runner you are.” I looked at him now, in the early hours of dawn, and he was even more beautiful than I’d once thought. How was that possible? Sounds invaded my thoughts; a hedge trimmer’s motor hummed from somewhere on campus. A car door slammed. Voices floated on the wind. When had Winston awakened? And how had I been so oblivious to it?
My eyes fixed on his mouth as he spoke. I couldn’t help it.
“I’ll take my chances,” he said in that husky, quiet Boston voice, then called over his shoulder as he lumbered away. “See ya in the morning.”
I stared after Kane McCarthy as he disappeared across the quad and faded into the hazy morning light. Just like his voice, his stride was easy and effortless as those long, muscular legs carried his equally solid, tall frame. Like an ethereal being, he simply…vanished. Like a ghost. A spirit. Was he even real? Was this situation I’d suddenly found myself in, real? It could’ve been a dream. Or a nightmare.
No, I’d had plenty of nightmares. Kane McCarthy definitely wasn’t one of them.
This was a situation I’d promptly placed my own stupid self in. And it was one I’d need to fast get a grip on if I was going to pull off our private Dare against the Kappas. I couldn’t let Kane get under my skin.
As I maneuvered throughout my day, surrounded by fellow Winston students, sorority sisters, acquaintances, I realized that despite how many conversations I had, how many phony smiles I gave out, one thing was for certain.
I truly was alone. Alone, I understood. My back against a wall, enclosed, I felt safe. As long as I held people at a distance, they wouldn’t suspect the real me. Wouldn’t ask questions. Wouldn’t crack the code to my internal safe.
Safe. Safety. It meant as much to me as trust did to others. I knew why; always had known why.
When I thought hard about it, it really only came down to one thing.
A small, dank, smelly kitchen cabinet.
The rest of the day dragged by; so did I. My forced buoyancy was beginning to wear thin on me, for some reason. In the past, it’d been rather easy, that false persona. Why had it grown difficult? Like, overnight? What was wrong with me?
Later that afternoon, the Delta house was abuzz with activity. Setting up the starting line for the Turkey Run, stretching the hand-made banner from our side of the street to the Kappas’. I never did catch sight of Kane again, and somehow, that disappointed me. He may be a thug, but he was an intelligent one, well-versed and I sincerely enjoyed talking to him—when he wasn’t busy pointing out my supposed flaws, that is. Something about his persona intrigued me. Interested me. The way he studied me so thoroughly, just before he spoke. No one had ever gained my attention in that way, ever. And he remained on my mind for the rest of the day.
After darkness fell, Delta sisters gathered in the common room to make the numbers that would be pinned to the participants’ shirts. Crates of bottled water sat at our front door. I busied myself in our small kitchen making chocolate chip cookies for the participants as they crossed the finish line at the Killian fairgrounds entrance tomorrow. Murphy sat on the counter, the bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips opened and dangerously in her hands.
She popped one in her mouth. “What’s up with you?” she asked. “You look like pure shite, you do.”
I looked at her and almost smiled at the comical lines of concern pulling at her brows. I leveled the flour in the measuring cup with a knife and added it to the mixture. “I’m just tired, I guess.” I mixed in the cup of flour, then turned off the beaters. “Kane is meeting me here in the morning. He’s helping out with the run,” I said, and leveled the second cup of flour. I gave Murphy a sideways glance.
