“Oh God!” I cried out, prepared to admit the truth, anything to get him to stay and not leave me. “It’syou. Can’t you see? You…you were going with Elliott. After he left, I felt…”
Brando pulled me tighter against him, shielding me from prying eyes. “Don’t say it. I’m not leaving. You’ll stay with me.” He said something about light, but not loud enough that I could make out all of the words clearly—my heart felt as though it were lodged in my ears.
I pulled away a bit, looking down at his arms so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. A tattoo of a ribbon wound from his left wrist, above the pulse point, all the way up to his elbow. I traced the shape with my pointer finger, and goosebumps rose on his skin as though by magic. The smoke from the fire made my vision blurry.
“Stay with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It never seemed to be with him. “We’ll walk and talk.”
I nodded, not able to say anything else. The sensation had started to ebb, my heart starting to piece itself back together, one slow beat at a time. His decision to stay with me seemed to right my panic.
Intertwining our fingers together, I held on for dear life.
Chapter Four
Scarlett
We walked along the train tracks for what seemed like miles, not a word spoken between us, our hands still linked together. I don’t think either of us knew what to say, or where to even begin. Or I didn’t. Brando seemed fine with the silence, not bothering to break it.
I watched him as he kept his eyes forward, every once in a while rolling a sucker around in his mouth.
He looked over at me. “You want one?”
I stopped and the link to our connection stretched but didn’t break. He covered the distance between us, coming to a stop right in front of me.
“All right.” I blinked up at him, my eyes dry, perhaps from a lack of tears.
The only light along the tracks came from street posts. Their combined light created a glow that seemed to infuse the air. One of the lights stood directly behind him, and my fingers itched to run through his hair—the halo created from the ambience made him seem angelic. Softer somehow, though I knew it was only a trick of the light, the same way the darkness tricks the eye into believing that a panther has hypnotic, glowing eyes. Still. How many times in life does the opportunity to run your hands through an avenging angel’s hair arise?
He had taken his beanie off and stuck it in his back pocket after we left the confines of the party. His hair was jet black and cut shorter around the sides, a slicked back strip from forehead to neck. An undercut, it was called. It made him seem stylish.No; I shook my head. That description didn’t seem to fit him. He was too much of a rogue to go along with a fashion trend.
Really, that small fact was beside the point. My fingers itched to touch his hair because it seemed so soft and voluminous. He had hair and lashes any woman would kill to have.
He grinned at me, breaking the trance, and the breath caught in my throat. The moment to act had come and gone.
Not removing his eyes from mine, he dug in his pocket and removed a red sucker. After removing the wrapper with his teeth so he wouldn’t need a free hand, he handed it to me.
I ran my tongue over the candy, keeping it close to my lips, enjoying the flavor. My mother was the equivalent of a teetotaler when it came to manufactured sweets, even homemade ones.
Absence also makes the stomach grow fonder.
Once the entire sucker entered my mouth, I took a few sucks and then crushed the hard part with my teeth, wanting the chocolate in the middle.
Brando stilled for a moment and then began to laugh so hard that he shook with the rhythm of it. A shiver stole over me; he had a wonderful laugh, deep at first, until it became raspy.Addicting.I hadn’t spent much time with him, but something told me that the sound was rare, and once shared, something to remember.
“What?” Despite my mood, I grinned.
“You were hungry.”
“No!” I flung the stick behind my head.Litterbug, a voice inside of my head chanted, but I ignored it. I was still chewing the chocolate center and enjoying it. “The hard part just seemed like a waste of time. The center is what I was after.”
“You got it. In record time too.” He laughed some more.
“The prize is in the center. I don’t know how you do it. Keep one for as long as you do. Especially since you’re someone who loses interest—” I stopped myself from finishing the sentence.
That’s why he didn’t go with Elliott to the party. That’s why he had lived. He had told me he had lost interest in going.
“Depends on what it is,” he whispered. “That’s what I told you.”
His presence was like a balm to the hurt, but at the same time, the bruise to my skin. “You remember that night?”
