Page 10 of Killer Confections
Rowan slaps my back. “Hell yeah! Let’s get you a girlfriend!”
We walk back to the house together, Rowan talking a mile a minute as I linger behind him. He gives me datingadvice, which is stupid considering he’s never had a girlfriend. But I listen, enjoying the company.
And I get to see Loxley tomorrow. My spirits are already much higher by the time I sit down for a silent dinner with my family.
Dad sits at the head of the table, already digging into his food. Mom sits beside him, her eyes roaming over me for a split second before she cuts into a pork chop. Thalia sits at the opposite end of the table, her thick black hair falling near her face, as she uses a knife to whittle a sharp point into a block of wood.
I sit beside mom and Rowan takes the chair across from me. The sounds of forks and knives hitting plates and Thalia’s carving fill the dining room.
“Thalia,” dad bites, shooting her a severe expression. “Put the fucking wood down and eat.”
She complies, slamming her supplies down on the table before digging into her food.
The atmosphere is thick with tension, but no one mentions my time in solitary. That’s how punishments go. After the act, no one speaks of it again and we go back to playing house.
I fucking hate it.
But tonight, I have something else to focus on. My thoughts stay on red-blonde hair and freckled cheeks.
And my fucked up reality doesn’t matter.
Chapter Four
Loxley
Eleven Years Ago
It’s just my luck to make my first friend, and he’s suspended for three days for fighting.
Why aren’t you afraid of me?
Atlas’s words circle my mind again as I stare out the window of my algebra class. Mr. Brum drones on at the head of the room, boring everyone around me to sleep.
But pitch black shaggy hair preoccupies my brain, piercing blue eyes, and tattered loose-fitting clothes.
When I first noticed the large boy sitting on the bench outside of the principal’s office, I thought he was a senior or a teacher. He looked far too tall and filled out to be my age.
But as I got closer, I saw the blood on his face and knuckles and the faraway look in his eyes. I couldn’t resist the pull that tugged me closer to him.
I had never seen someone so…beautiful.
That may be the wrong word to use, but it’s how I perceived him—hauntingly striking.
Seeing his wounds and the pain on his face made my heartstrings tug. Mom calls me an empath, highly sensitive to how others feel, and I don’t disagree with her. She and dad raised me to show kindness to everyone.
And that kindness extended to Atlas. He was suffering on that bench, bleeding and looking beaten down. He needed a friend, and so did I.
Something about him just seemed so inviting and Icouldn’t leave without trying. Even if he refused to speak to me, I would feel satisfied with extending my olive branch and slowly wear him down.
But when I crouched down, it was like both of our worlds stopped.
He mesmerized me, but I was also worried about his bloodied lips. He had cuts and bruises all over him, and yet he never complained they hurt. When he caught me just before I kneeled down, I gasped at the sudden electricity that rocketed through my system. His hands were big, calloused, and strong as they gently guided me up.
At that moment, I made a rushed decision and quickly sat down beside him. I didn’t want our time to end. It didn’t matter that I was out of class on a timed hall pass. It was just the two of us.
Then his dad showed up, and it was like a switch flipped in him. He was stern, commanding me to go back to class, but I could see the pure fear in his eyes.
Something was going on there, and I planned to get to the bottom of it. I didn’t want to leave him, but I also knew there wasn’t much I could do without evidence.
