Stupid Boy
Page 28
He looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
I tried to calm my breathing. “I, uh,” I stammered, “I don’t really like the dark.” I didn’t want to admit it, but there it was. I had no choice. My body fought the urge to take off and run. “Hate it, actually.”
“Hey,” he said. “I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
I nodded, breathed. “It’s not you. It’s the darkness.”
Suddenly, he pushed the flashlight into my hand. “Tell you what. If you get nervous, turn it back on. But I’m right here.”
I squeezed the flashlight, and somehow just having it in my hand, in my control, eased my panic. “Thank you,” I said softly. I glanced around. “Where are we?”
Only a thumbnail moon illuminated the bluff, but I could see Kane’s profile as he spoke. “Would you believe we’re on a farm behind the airport?” He inclined his head in a direction behind us. “The main runway extension is back there,” he said, then looked at me. We were close—too close, almost, for comfort. “You have to lie back to get the full effect.”
He spun around then, stretched his long body out over the blanket, crossed his boots at the ankles, and tucked his hands behind his head. In the moonlight I could see his those liquidy pools staring at me. He smiled. “Take a chance for once. I won’t bite. Promise.”
Another plane zoomed overhead, and again, I gasped. Kane laughed. “Hurry up and lay back before you miss the next one,” he said.
With a hefty sigh, I kicked my boots over the blanket and stretched out beside him. Our shoulders touched; our heads were close. The flashlight gripped tightly in my hand.
“I never see this many stars back home.” His feathery voice drifted in the darkness. “I guess you’re used to it.”
My eyes were glued overhead. Sure, I’d seen stars. I’d seen blankets of them. But had I really noticed? “The sky. It’s so…big,” I said. My eyes roved from one end to the other. “It seems endless.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Here comes one,” he said.
We both held our breath as a jet seemingly skimmed the sky above our noses.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
Heat radiated off his body, so close to mine, and the sensation was new. Exciting. Frightening. “I am,” I said, even though I shivered.
He laughed lightly, then grew quiet. “Who are you, Harper Belle?”
I kept my gaze trained at the sky, but my insides froze. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the president of a sorority, yet you have no friends. You attend meetings, but are never seen anywhere other than sorority events. Class. The library.” The shift in air made me know he’d turned to me, so I looked at him. “You don’t go out for pizza. You don’t go out to movies. And you don’t go to the local pubs.”
I tried to keep my mask in place. “Seems like you’ve been doing some research.”
Those brown eyes, as fathomless as the inky sky, searched mine. “No. I just recognize myself in you, is all.” He turned on his side, propping his head with his palm. “Fear is our common factor, Harper,” he said, and his words washed over me like warm, honeyed breath. “Broken recognizes broken. It’s also what sets us apart.”
I now turned on my side to face him. My heart thumped at his perceptiveness. “A criminal philosopher. Interesting,” I said, forcing my voice to stay strong. Not crack. Not let him know how close to the truth he probably was. “I’ve said this before, Kane McCarthy. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I’m trying,” his voice was soft, and a crooked smile tilted his mouth. A mouth I had a difficult time looking away from. “I’ve found out a few things, though.”
Fear and panic instantly gripped me. Made my spine stiffen, and my skin prickle. Had he found out about my past? Who I really was? “Like what?” I asked slowly. I tried not to overreact. Did he know what had happened? What was inside of me?
What I could become?
His gaze moved over my face, so slow and painfully thorough he might as well have been dragging those full lips over it. “That you come from a rich, affluent family. You’re pre-law. You date, but you don’t date lowly college students. And that you never, ever break rules.” His gaze settled on my mouth. “And that you eat turkey sandwiches alone. Jog alone, away from campus so no one can see you. Interact with you. You eat oatmeal alone. And you trust no one.” His eyes returned to mine. “Yet you came out here with a near-total stranger.” He grinned. “Who may or may not be a thug. Why?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I’m even surprising myself, coming out here with you,” I answered. “Trust is a powerful gift that I bestow very, very lightly Kane McCarthy. If I were to give it to anyone, though,” I thought more. “It’d go to Olivia Beaumont. Which is why I’m here with you now. She seems to trust you.” That was a partial truth. The other reason was of course to gain footage with Kane on the Dare. “As far as the other accusations?” I sighed. Some weird part of me wanted to just…let it all out. Tell Kane the truth. I was so, so weary of keeping secrets. Tired of being scared. “Only half-truths of course. Murphy is my friend. And I do occasionally go out. I just happen to not want to waste a single dime of my family’s money partying it up versus getting my solid education.” I watched him watching me, and that did make me a bit more antsy. “I’m on the fence about pre-law, actually.” I’d blurted that part out, and I wasn’t sure why.
I tried to calm my breathing. “I, uh,” I stammered, “I don’t really like the dark.” I didn’t want to admit it, but there it was. I had no choice. My body fought the urge to take off and run. “Hate it, actually.”
“Hey,” he said. “I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
I nodded, breathed. “It’s not you. It’s the darkness.”
Suddenly, he pushed the flashlight into my hand. “Tell you what. If you get nervous, turn it back on. But I’m right here.”
I squeezed the flashlight, and somehow just having it in my hand, in my control, eased my panic. “Thank you,” I said softly. I glanced around. “Where are we?”
Only a thumbnail moon illuminated the bluff, but I could see Kane’s profile as he spoke. “Would you believe we’re on a farm behind the airport?” He inclined his head in a direction behind us. “The main runway extension is back there,” he said, then looked at me. We were close—too close, almost, for comfort. “You have to lie back to get the full effect.”
He spun around then, stretched his long body out over the blanket, crossed his boots at the ankles, and tucked his hands behind his head. In the moonlight I could see his those liquidy pools staring at me. He smiled. “Take a chance for once. I won’t bite. Promise.”
Another plane zoomed overhead, and again, I gasped. Kane laughed. “Hurry up and lay back before you miss the next one,” he said.
With a hefty sigh, I kicked my boots over the blanket and stretched out beside him. Our shoulders touched; our heads were close. The flashlight gripped tightly in my hand.
“I never see this many stars back home.” His feathery voice drifted in the darkness. “I guess you’re used to it.”
My eyes were glued overhead. Sure, I’d seen stars. I’d seen blankets of them. But had I really noticed? “The sky. It’s so…big,” I said. My eyes roved from one end to the other. “It seems endless.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Here comes one,” he said.
We both held our breath as a jet seemingly skimmed the sky above our noses.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
Heat radiated off his body, so close to mine, and the sensation was new. Exciting. Frightening. “I am,” I said, even though I shivered.
He laughed lightly, then grew quiet. “Who are you, Harper Belle?”
I kept my gaze trained at the sky, but my insides froze. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the president of a sorority, yet you have no friends. You attend meetings, but are never seen anywhere other than sorority events. Class. The library.” The shift in air made me know he’d turned to me, so I looked at him. “You don’t go out for pizza. You don’t go out to movies. And you don’t go to the local pubs.”
I tried to keep my mask in place. “Seems like you’ve been doing some research.”
Those brown eyes, as fathomless as the inky sky, searched mine. “No. I just recognize myself in you, is all.” He turned on his side, propping his head with his palm. “Fear is our common factor, Harper,” he said, and his words washed over me like warm, honeyed breath. “Broken recognizes broken. It’s also what sets us apart.”
I now turned on my side to face him. My heart thumped at his perceptiveness. “A criminal philosopher. Interesting,” I said, forcing my voice to stay strong. Not crack. Not let him know how close to the truth he probably was. “I’ve said this before, Kane McCarthy. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I’m trying,” his voice was soft, and a crooked smile tilted his mouth. A mouth I had a difficult time looking away from. “I’ve found out a few things, though.”
Fear and panic instantly gripped me. Made my spine stiffen, and my skin prickle. Had he found out about my past? Who I really was? “Like what?” I asked slowly. I tried not to overreact. Did he know what had happened? What was inside of me?
What I could become?
His gaze moved over my face, so slow and painfully thorough he might as well have been dragging those full lips over it. “That you come from a rich, affluent family. You’re pre-law. You date, but you don’t date lowly college students. And that you never, ever break rules.” His gaze settled on my mouth. “And that you eat turkey sandwiches alone. Jog alone, away from campus so no one can see you. Interact with you. You eat oatmeal alone. And you trust no one.” His eyes returned to mine. “Yet you came out here with a near-total stranger.” He grinned. “Who may or may not be a thug. Why?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I’m even surprising myself, coming out here with you,” I answered. “Trust is a powerful gift that I bestow very, very lightly Kane McCarthy. If I were to give it to anyone, though,” I thought more. “It’d go to Olivia Beaumont. Which is why I’m here with you now. She seems to trust you.” That was a partial truth. The other reason was of course to gain footage with Kane on the Dare. “As far as the other accusations?” I sighed. Some weird part of me wanted to just…let it all out. Tell Kane the truth. I was so, so weary of keeping secrets. Tired of being scared. “Only half-truths of course. Murphy is my friend. And I do occasionally go out. I just happen to not want to waste a single dime of my family’s money partying it up versus getting my solid education.” I watched him watching me, and that did make me a bit more antsy. “I’m on the fence about pre-law, actually.” I’d blurted that part out, and I wasn’t sure why.
