Again, I wasn’t sure what had been real and what had been made up by my own wants and desires. Perhaps the entire night had been delusional, clouded by what I yearned for him to feel in return.
A bitter laughed escaped my lips. Violet narrowed her eyes.
“All your people aboard the boat, Scarlett?”
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Then, because I realized I had yelled, I laughed a bit more to cover my embarrassment. To keep the shattered pieces of my heart from falling to the floor, at the feet of a bunch of teens full of angst who would stomp on them even more. Drive the point home like a stake through the heart. I was eighteen and still in high school.He’s the master of his emotions, perhaps even the universe, and you’re still holding textbooks to your chest.“I’m fine. Just fine. All aboard.”
Violet nodded slowly, her gaze drifting, not as intense, but I could tell she was contemplating me. She had a habit of doing that from time to time. Trying to read the feelings I hid. I didn’t like it, so I spread another layer on.
“Really, Violet.” I touched her arm, keeping the books close. “Why wouldn’t I be? I told you in the car that he was Elliott’s best friend. That’s all we have in common. End of story.” I shrugged. “Tell me about the cinnamon bun.”
“What cinnamon bun?”
I opened my arms, because I had a habit of talking with my hands, and my books crashed to the floor. Both of us startled at the noise, even though the hall was filled with plenty of it. We seemed to be in our own bubble, me trying to hide my feelings and her trying to find and expose them.
I stooped down first, Violet right behind me.
Reaching for a paper that had drifted out of one of my books, Violet grabbed my arm, stilling my movements. I could feel the stillness around me, the silence that had descended, and kept my eyes down. The weight of the moment had fallen hard on me and my eyes couldn’t rise to meet it.
Violet squeezed harder. “There’s the cinnamon bun,” she whispered.
My eyes rose to the face of a guy. A guy I had never seen before. Tall and lean with warm blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. Not as tall as Brando. Not even close to his build or looks. Nothing about him could touch Brando Fausti.
I wonder if I’ll forever compare other men to him?The thought crushed me anew.I knew the definite answer. A resounding yes.
The guy Violet had dubbed Cinnamon Bun grinned at me in a way that screamedtrouble. “I’ve got this,” he said.
Despite his words, I reached for the rogue paper and our hands met. I pulled back, letting him have it. My hair had a natural middle part, and both sides came together then, hiding my burning face as I stood.
Something about him disarmed and charmed me.
Violet was still on the floor with him, and he shooed her up, telling her he had things under control. She did as he requested, standing extremely close to me, bumping me with her body every so often. I refused to look at her, or him, or at the hall filled with peering eyes. The water-stained ceiling felt safer, a place to find freedom.
“Scarlett?”
At the mention of my name, I found Cinnamon Bun staring at me, offering me the books and papers that had fallen. My hair had gone rogue and invaded my face, so I tucked each side behind an ear before retrieving my things, keeping them close to my heart.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, a cocky grin on his face. “That’s your name, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Ace. New here from Texas.”
Being the great social butterfly that I was, I gave him what hid in my arsenal—a simple nod.Haha. My social skills were hilarious.
He laughed and looked to the floor for a moment before his gaze found mine again. “We had class together this morning. The teacher called your name.” He held out a familiar piece of paper and I took it. “I already have yours.” Then he winked at me.
With that mysterious ending, he turned and left, the other students giving him a wide berth. Once Ace had gone, the crowd turned and stared at me. Violet included.
The paper had his phone number scribbled on it. I had to force the lump lodged in my throat down. “Did that just happen?”
“Yep.” Violet peeked around me to make sure he was really gone. “That’stheCinnamon Bun. Mcafee is his last name. He arrived today. Rumor has it he’s bad news. Texas threw him out of the system because of behavioral problems. Family here took him in. Now he has a serious eye on you. He heard about your tragic cage and is certain he can release the ensnared beautiful ballerina.”
“How did he get my phone number?” I glanced at the paper again, with its untidy scrawl, almost tempted to let it fall to the floor. It felt hot in my hands.
“Beats me. I didn’t hear that much. Just that he’s been asking around. How did you not notice him in the class you have together? Brando looked like he wanted to eat you up. That guy looks like he just wants to lick you. Honestly, though, there is no comparison. Brando Fausti is a man. Cinnamon Bun is still in high school.”
I peeked down the hall, just to make sure he was gone. “I don’t even know which class we have together. I’ve been preoccupied.”
