Page 23 of Wounded Dance
I kept my eyes closed, as if his arrival wasn’t anything I should pay attention to. But as the moments unfolded, I got curious. I opened one eye, and inhaled sharply to see him sitting in the grass near my feet, just inches away.
“Anybody told you how beautiful you are?” Denham said.
“No,” I said. “I’m actually sort of awkward. My knees are weird and my hip bones stick out and —”
“Stop it,” he said. “You’re perfect.” He shifted closer, so he was next to my knees. “I can’t stop looking at you. Does it bother you?”
My throat got all tight, so I just shook my head no.
“Good,” he said. “I won’t lay a hand on you. That wouldn’t be right, living here and all, but I’m glad you’re all right with me looking.”
My belly sank. Did this mean he wouldn’t kiss me either? I had already imagined us walking down the halls of my new high school, holding hands. The other girls would be all jealous, this cool, confident boy in his jeans and black jacket and chains belonging to me.
But he was right. We lived together. Something about our closeness made the whole thing feel wrong, although I wasn’t sure how.
I shut my eyes again, my skin prickly with him so near. I heard him shift on the ground next to me but forced myself not to look.
After a while, the sun got to me, sweat trickling in uncomfortable places. When I turned to look, Denham was still there, his gaze fixed on my legs. He sensed me watching, and his eyes met mine.
I could actually hear the thunder of my heart. How could we stay so close to each other and not do anything? I was desperate to have him touch me, press his lips against mine. Anything to ease this terrible ache I felt.
My voice shook a little when I asked, “You getting used to being here?”
He kicked back a little, resting on his elbows, facing opposite me in the grass. I stared at the fading restaurant logo on his white T-shirt.
“It’s all right. Not looking forward to school starting.”
“It’s hard to be the new kid, I guess.”
He shrugged. “I won’t go any more than I want to.”
“You’ll skip class?”
He turned to his side and plucked a blade of grass, examining it between his fingers. “I do pretty much what I want.”
“Won’t that keep you from graduating?”
“Don’t care. I can make more money selling stolen car parts or doing deliveries for people than anything I’d do with a diploma.”
I sucked in a breath. “You steal car parts?”
He laughed. “It’s easy. Especially pricy accessories like custom wheels and light runners. There’s a whole market for those things.”
“You’re not afraid of getting caught?”
“I’ve been caught. My friends bail me out. I act all sorry to my juvie officer. I walk.”
I sat up. “You have a juvie officer?” Now I was prickly for different reasons. This boy was a criminal! “Does Dad know?”
“Of course he knows. They contacted him and approved the move.” His grin was deadly. “I’m allegedly going all straight now that I have a proper male role model.”
I settled back down on the chair. “What is it like to steal something?”
He quirked an eyebrow and my heart sped up again. “It’s a rush,” he said. “The idea of doing it is a tickle, sort of like this.”
He ran the blade of grass along my shin, and I shivered.
“And you want to scratch it, to do something really risky and get away with it.” He slid the tendril across my knee. “It’s intense, like riding a wave.”
