Chase lifts his chin. His deep brown eyes touch mine, a strange and distant look at the surface.
The notebook that is clasped in the palm of his hand slaps shut, the sound echoing around us when he looks away.
He coughs, then tentatively sweeps his forearm beneath his nose. His eyes don’t meet mine again. And I knew they wouldn’t. He’d been crying.
“You shouldn’t be down here,” he says, voice bitter, and I hate that I grimace at the taste.
Crossing my arms, I chew the inside of my cheek, let my eyes touch my feet. “Isn’t that for me to decide?”
Chase drops the book down beside him and pushes back into the wall, heaving out an agitated sigh. He hangs his limp wrists over his knees.
“Maybe, but…” He stops talking, lets out another breath, and his shoulders fall as he exhales. Chase presses his palms to his face. “I can’t do this right now, Lai?—”
“And you think I can?” A rueful laugh comes from my lips, and I know it’s a way for me to push away the hurt that had already begun to shovel its way beneath my fragile ribs. “I just…” I throw my arms out then slap my legs, shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders. “Never mind.”
His voice barely fills the space between us. “Come here, Laik.”
I hike my thumb over my shoulder, raising my voice. “Why? I thought I shouldn’t be down here?” I mock him and I know it pisses him off. “That you can’t do this right now?”
Chase’s face tenses, his steely gaze giving me a once-over. I can tell he is not in the mood for the back and forth.
I bite into my bottom lip. “Forget it.” I turn and start to walk away.
His voice hits at the back of my neck.
“I won’t ask again,” he warns.
I spin around, my trembling hands wrap around my biceps. “Are you threatening me?”
“Yeah,” he retorts almost instantly, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, “Yeah, I fucking am.” And when I don’t reply, my erratic breath pushing me further away, he whispers so desperately I can’t help but shiver.
“Please.”
Pain registers in his expression. He openly begs me with broken eyes.
And instantly I feel my resolve slip away.
I hate that.
I hate him.
I hate even more that I still cared for the boy that had slaughtered me.
I swallow. I take a step forward, and then another, and it feels like there is a piece of glass wedged in my chest. The closer I get to it,to him,the deeper it slashes into my flesh.
“You’re so goddamn confusing,” I whisper, pushing my back against the curved and icy concrete. I leave a generous amount of space between us, just like he had on the deck last night, sliding down and drawing my thighs to my chest. My arms coil my legs; I hold onto my breath.
A snick comes from beside me and I don’t need to look to know it’s the sound of Chase blazing a cigarette. The familiar sizzle touches my ears when he draws a heavy pull, and my eyes shift to my side when I see the filter smoldering at my bicep.
I contemplate not taking it, but I’ve never been able to pass on the offering of nicotine.
I’ve been smoking cigarettes since I was thirteen, since the first time a kid at school told me I would grow up to be a psychopath like Grandpa Campbell. I didn’t know if it was more disgusting that something deep inside of me believed I could be just as rotten as him, or that I’d taken to charring out my insides in order not to be.
It was…disturbing.
Taking the cigarette from Chase, I place it between my teeth, then I recline my head, playing with the smoke at my lips.
I can feel Chase's eyes on me, tracing the column of my neck, and at his visual touch my skin tingles, heating with every pass.
