Page 48 of Nerdelicious
“Do you? You have a great family. You go to school. You have goals and dreams. You belong here. I’m basically a homeless wretch.”
He nudges me with his elbow before typing again.You are not a wretch.
“But I am homeless?” A giggle bubbles out of me.
He shrugs.
“I mean, it’s not inaccurate, you’re right.”
This is the only place I fit in—with Jude and Grace. Both of them are brilliant, though. I can’t even speak.
I gasp in shock. “You can’t?”
He stares at me, eyes wide. For a split second I think he’s going to be pissed but then he slaps a hand over his mouth and turns into me, hiding his face between my arm and the towel, his body shaking.
“You’re laughing.” I smack his shaking shoulder. “I finally get you to cave and all I had to do was make a terribly insensitive joke.” I laugh with him, my voice the only sound filling the night, but his quiet mirth is the best thing I’ve never heard.
Eventually, he flops onto his back again, and we’re motionless together, breathing in the crisp mountain air.
I’ve wanted to ask him something for a while, though I didn’t want to offend him. But now, after that little laughing spell, I bet no one ever talks to Beast about his silence. Grace and Jude are used to it, and everyone else is probably too scared.
“Hey, remember when we got attacked by the rooster?” I ask.
He shrugs, lifting his hands in a gesture ofHow could I forget?
“Yeah, right? Good times. I heard you, before I came through the trees. Were you... are you still working on talking?”
He turns his head on the blanket. Our eyes meet. He nods.
“Why can’t you speak?” The question is a whisper.
He bites his lip, drawing my eyes to his mouth. But then he’s typing again and I have to look away to read the words.
It’s... his fingers halt. Then start again.I don’t want you to think badly of me.
“That’s basically impossible. I would never think badly of you.”
He shrugs.
“You take care of everyone, Beast. You notice when people need something and you provide it, whether it’s a cup of coffee or a taste of home or tissues for a broken girl you don’t even know.”
He watches me as I speak, tracing my features with his warm gaze, like he’s searching for truth in the words, before he types again.If you knew everything about me, you wouldn’t look at me the same.
I turn toward him, lying on my side. “How do I look at you now?” The words are a whisper.
Our eyes lock and then his flicker to my lips.
My heart stutters.
Like I’m normal. Like you care. Like I matter.
“Because you are and I do. You do. I have to admit though, you were kind of intimidating at first. For like the first five months of our acquaintance.”
I’m too big.
I smack him on his shoulder. “You’re not. You’re perfect exactly as you are.”
So are you. You were never a broken girl. Only a homeless wretch.
