Stupid Boy
Page 30
Even in the darkness, her eyes flashed something familiar.
Fear.
Hell, I knew it well.
“You said we all have secrets. Why can’t it just stay that way?” she said.
Her diplomacy eased my mouth up at the corners. “Because I seem to want to know everything about you.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Well…I’d prefer it if you stopped illegal betting activity with the Kappas. It not only puts yourself at risk, but your brother, too. And that’s selfish. So I guess we both want something we can’t have.”
“Why do you care so much what I do there?” I had to ask because no one other than Brax had ever cared. And even he didn’t know my true reasons.
She sat up and tucked her slender legs beneath her. With my head propped against my palm, I stayed stretched out on my side, watching her. She reminded me of a fawn—one that would startle and take off with any sudden movement or sound, so I just…listened. “For one, it’s illegal. Where’s the integrity in that kind of lifestyle? I mean, do you plan on having a family one day? Children? Is that your legacy? I was a damn fine criminal, kids. The best around. I mean—” She now looked exasperated, as though trying to get me to see a point I’d never, ever see. Her pretty little brows bunched together again, and I found it endearing. “Does that employment come with a 401K? Medical and dental benefits?”
I couldn’t help but smile at her rant. It was a justifiable one. And I’d heard similar from Brax, just the other day.
If either of them knew why I actually did what I did, maybe they wouldn’t judge me so harshly. I rubbed my jaw, felt the unshaven stubble there that had grown back since I’d shaved earlier. “I have my reasons, Harper.”
“I see,” she said, and sat ram-rod stiff. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t need all those benefits in prison.”
I sat up then. No, I didn’t want to go to prison. I wouldn’t, either, because as soon as I was finished at Winston, I’d hit the road and be on my way. “I’m not going to prison,” I said with a light laugh that sounded acerbic in the night air. “Ever.” I pulled one knee up, rested my forearm against it, and she watched my movements as closely as I did hers. “But your concern for my retirement and future is…touching.”
She cocked her head. “How is it you on one hand run illegal bets, but on the other secretly wish to be a police officer?”
My mind went there, due to her prodding probably. “Scumbags fill the world, Harper. Not the kind like me, who run numbers for money. I’m talking about the ones who hurt people.” I stared at her, almost willing her to see the truth without actually having to say it out loud, confess it to her. That was a first for me. “The ones who need to pay for their crimes in the worst possible way.”
“I see,” she said softly. Her eyes cast down to her lap, and she brushed at something on her coat. “Did you donate extra money to the Turkey Run?” Her eyes flashed at me then, wide and incredible and alluring. Waiting for an answer.
“I had a good payday,” I said. It wasn’t a lie; I had.
“It was generous of you,” she continued. “It will feed a lot of families.”
I nodded, and couldn’t help leaning toward her. Almost as if by getting closer I could sap some of her warmth. Infuse some of her fears and flush them out. “I’m glad.” We were close, not facing each other but sort of catty-corner, shoulder-to-shoulder, and it would be so easy to lean in, take just one small taste. Just to see.
She felt it, too; I could sense it. She seemed confused, though. As if she was unsure what the sensation between us was. I knew—had sensed it the very first time we were within eye-shot of each other. I couldn’t explain it. It had nothing to do with her physical beauty—although at first, sure. I noticed that. Who wouldn’t? She was elegant, delicate, with faultless skin and plump lips that begged to be savored.
It was her eyes, though, that dug into my brain. Wide, almond shaped and the strangest blue-green I’d ever seen, they held something in their depths that probably no one else saw but me. Sadness. Pain. Loneliness. And of course, fear. Broken, but maybe not hopeless.
Kindred spirit.
She cleared her throat. “I have an idea. Sort of.”
I glanced down at our hands, so close on the blanket they were almost reaching. Touching. Not quite, though. I looked at her. “And what is that?”
She shifted her position; seemingly closer. Yet her eyes fluttered, glanced off mine to stare into the darkness. I watched her draw a long breath in, as though she was preparing for something frightening. After she released it, she let her gaze settle on mine again. “It’s something of a challenge for us both, I think. You’ll probably enjoy it because it is along the lines of a bet.”
I did lean toward her this time, but not too invasive. I grinned. “I’m dying already. Tell me.”
A faint smile paused her words, and she glanced at her boots, shy and awkward and engaging. Then she breathed, gathered courage, it seemed, and the mask was back in place when she looked at me. “I propose a challenge of truths and confessions.” She folded her hands, lacing her fingers together and sitting them properly in her lap. Every movement fascinated me. She was…so oddly different. “You tell me something. I in turn tell you something.” One of her eyebrows rose. “We have to solemnly swear to say the truth and only the truth, so help us God. And it stays between us. Only us.”
Fear.
Hell, I knew it well.
“You said we all have secrets. Why can’t it just stay that way?” she said.
Her diplomacy eased my mouth up at the corners. “Because I seem to want to know everything about you.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Well…I’d prefer it if you stopped illegal betting activity with the Kappas. It not only puts yourself at risk, but your brother, too. And that’s selfish. So I guess we both want something we can’t have.”
“Why do you care so much what I do there?” I had to ask because no one other than Brax had ever cared. And even he didn’t know my true reasons.
She sat up and tucked her slender legs beneath her. With my head propped against my palm, I stayed stretched out on my side, watching her. She reminded me of a fawn—one that would startle and take off with any sudden movement or sound, so I just…listened. “For one, it’s illegal. Where’s the integrity in that kind of lifestyle? I mean, do you plan on having a family one day? Children? Is that your legacy? I was a damn fine criminal, kids. The best around. I mean—” She now looked exasperated, as though trying to get me to see a point I’d never, ever see. Her pretty little brows bunched together again, and I found it endearing. “Does that employment come with a 401K? Medical and dental benefits?”
I couldn’t help but smile at her rant. It was a justifiable one. And I’d heard similar from Brax, just the other day.
If either of them knew why I actually did what I did, maybe they wouldn’t judge me so harshly. I rubbed my jaw, felt the unshaven stubble there that had grown back since I’d shaved earlier. “I have my reasons, Harper.”
“I see,” she said, and sat ram-rod stiff. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t need all those benefits in prison.”
I sat up then. No, I didn’t want to go to prison. I wouldn’t, either, because as soon as I was finished at Winston, I’d hit the road and be on my way. “I’m not going to prison,” I said with a light laugh that sounded acerbic in the night air. “Ever.” I pulled one knee up, rested my forearm against it, and she watched my movements as closely as I did hers. “But your concern for my retirement and future is…touching.”
She cocked her head. “How is it you on one hand run illegal bets, but on the other secretly wish to be a police officer?”
My mind went there, due to her prodding probably. “Scumbags fill the world, Harper. Not the kind like me, who run numbers for money. I’m talking about the ones who hurt people.” I stared at her, almost willing her to see the truth without actually having to say it out loud, confess it to her. That was a first for me. “The ones who need to pay for their crimes in the worst possible way.”
“I see,” she said softly. Her eyes cast down to her lap, and she brushed at something on her coat. “Did you donate extra money to the Turkey Run?” Her eyes flashed at me then, wide and incredible and alluring. Waiting for an answer.
“I had a good payday,” I said. It wasn’t a lie; I had.
“It was generous of you,” she continued. “It will feed a lot of families.”
I nodded, and couldn’t help leaning toward her. Almost as if by getting closer I could sap some of her warmth. Infuse some of her fears and flush them out. “I’m glad.” We were close, not facing each other but sort of catty-corner, shoulder-to-shoulder, and it would be so easy to lean in, take just one small taste. Just to see.
She felt it, too; I could sense it. She seemed confused, though. As if she was unsure what the sensation between us was. I knew—had sensed it the very first time we were within eye-shot of each other. I couldn’t explain it. It had nothing to do with her physical beauty—although at first, sure. I noticed that. Who wouldn’t? She was elegant, delicate, with faultless skin and plump lips that begged to be savored.
It was her eyes, though, that dug into my brain. Wide, almond shaped and the strangest blue-green I’d ever seen, they held something in their depths that probably no one else saw but me. Sadness. Pain. Loneliness. And of course, fear. Broken, but maybe not hopeless.
Kindred spirit.
She cleared her throat. “I have an idea. Sort of.”
I glanced down at our hands, so close on the blanket they were almost reaching. Touching. Not quite, though. I looked at her. “And what is that?”
She shifted her position; seemingly closer. Yet her eyes fluttered, glanced off mine to stare into the darkness. I watched her draw a long breath in, as though she was preparing for something frightening. After she released it, she let her gaze settle on mine again. “It’s something of a challenge for us both, I think. You’ll probably enjoy it because it is along the lines of a bet.”
I did lean toward her this time, but not too invasive. I grinned. “I’m dying already. Tell me.”
A faint smile paused her words, and she glanced at her boots, shy and awkward and engaging. Then she breathed, gathered courage, it seemed, and the mask was back in place when she looked at me. “I propose a challenge of truths and confessions.” She folded her hands, lacing her fingers together and sitting them properly in her lap. Every movement fascinated me. She was…so oddly different. “You tell me something. I in turn tell you something.” One of her eyebrows rose. “We have to solemnly swear to say the truth and only the truth, so help us God. And it stays between us. Only us.”
