Page 16 of Burn

His name was David. Last name doesn’t matter. I met him in a library. Another place to people watch.

I knew in the beginning I should have ran away from David but I was fifteen and didn’t know any better. He’d paint my toes, watchBeverly Hills 90210with me and drank chocolate milk all the fucking time. He’d tell me I was beautiful fifty times a day and licked my armpits.

Do you like how I snuck that in there? He did too.

We were in the middle of having sex, I know, fifteen is a little young but focus on the fact that the dude licked my goddamn armpits.

So where am I going with this?

You can people watch all you want, even get in a relationship with them but in the end, you never really know people. They’re always going to keep some thoughts to themselves. Unless of course you’re Tom and you have no filter. I know he says whatever he’s thinking because nobody in their right mind would say some of the things that come out of his mouth.

I’m not sure I ever knew Judah. Sure, I lived with him, but you hear about that kind of shit all the time. The showSnapped? Perfect fucking example of people being crooked fucks. You think you know them and then one day you come home to them dismembering a body in the kitchen sink and storing brains in the freezer next to the pizza rolls. Or fucking the neighbor. Same difference in my book.

Guess who’s at the bar tonight?

Judah “Neighbor Fucking” Prince. And he’s dirty dancing with a chick wearing leather pants. Who can pull off leather pants anymore?

That girl. Clearly.

Of all the nights I have to run into him, it’s the night after he kicked me out. Or the next night . . . whatever.

All I know is I do not want to see him with her or any other slut he might pick up tonight.

I watch them dance and immediately regret it. Who the hell is that girl? An exotic dancer?

I’m thinking Judah knows I’m here when his eyes find mine in the low-lit bar. The air changes around me, his stare on mine is damn near suffocating. I watch them for a moment and think to myself,Good God, are they fucking?

Knowing Judah, they might be. He once fucked me in the grocery store. Okay, let’s rephrase that. He stuck it in just because I told him he couldn’t do it without getting caught. So next to the smoked sausages in the meat section—ironic, I know—he slipped it inside, thrusted once, maybe three times and then pulled out. Keep in mind I was wearing a dress and he was wearing sweat pants. Easy access on both parts.

Anyway, Judah’s talented in being discrete. Too bad when he was fucking the neighbor he didn’t have the decency to be discrete about it. Whatever. He’s a tool, but the thing is, them dancing like they are, isn’t discrete. Judah wants me to see him with her like this and I can’t figure out why because he kicked me out.Hebroke up withme.

So why are his eyes trained on mine as the girl twerking on his dick grinds against him?

I want to look away. I want to break the hold he has on me when Scarlet nudges my ribs. “Stop that.”

“What?” I’m still staring at him.

To make her point clear, she steps in front of me blocking my view and gives me a pointed “what the fuck?” stare. “Staring at Judah.”

Oh.That.

Nervously, I gather my long brown curls over one shoulder. “I’m not,” I lie. Remember? I’m awful at it, and she knows. “I’m trying to read that sign.”

Scarlet glances over her shoulder quickly and sees there’s no sign. “What sign?”

Shrugging, I down my drink in hand and leave the glass on a nearby table. “Let’s get another drink.” I grab her by the arm and steer her toward the bar before she can say anymore.

“You should make him jealous.”

I sigh, annoyed she’s saying this. Mostly because I’ve already thought of that and quickly threw the idea away. “I’m not a fifteen anymore. I don’t need to go around making my ex jealous.” But despite my words, my eyes betray me and sneak back to Judah, who now has his tongue down her throat, probably showing her what his tongue ring feels like.

Goddamn it. I know where this leads me, and I hate it. Why can’t I be like a normal girl and sit and eat ice cream and cry out my broken heart? Oh, right. I did that last night by myself, and he wasn’t in front of me. Now here he is, and I need to make him see he hasn’t gotten to me, right?

My voice is timid when I ask, “What did you have in mind?”

There’s nothing wrong with seeing what she has in mind, right? Scarlet always has good ideas. It’s part of the reason she’s my best friend.

She points across the bar to a booth in the corner. “Askthatguy to dance.”

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