Page 32 of Hold Your Breath
“Wow. I didn’t realize I’d been working on the computer for so long.” She scrunched up her face. “No wonder I can’t focus my eyes anymore.”
“I do that sometimes.” At her questioning look, he clarified, “Get caught up in the computer. Just messing around online, and then I realize that I’ve just wasted hours doing nothing.”
Reaching her arms overhead, she stretched out her tight muscles. “Yeah, it happens.” Cocking her head to the side, she regarding him curiously. “So what are you doing in the library instead of…well, whatever kids do after school nowadays?”
He snorted. “Yeah, ’cause you’ve been done with school for, what? Like, two years?”
“High school? Try eight years.”
“Yeah? You look younger.”
Lou turned what wanted to be a laugh into a cough. Was this little punkflirtingwith her? “You never answered my question.” When he looked confused, she added, “Library?”
Dropping his gaze to the table, he shrugged. “Dad’s at work, so the house is really quiet. I come here to do homework sometimes. Bart’s not the best company, but…” He shrugged again as his words trailed off.
She felt a surge of empathy, his explanation sharply reminding her what it felt like to be that lonely, awkward kid. Maybe he hadn’t been flirting. Maybe he was just desperate for company. He looked uncomfortable and a little embarrassed, so she changed the subject.
“Did your friends have any other theories about the guy found in the reservoir?” Once the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. What kind of person tried to pump a teenager for information on a dead guy, especially when that information came from other clueless high schoolers?
But Tyler immediately sat straighter, his eyes brightening. He didn’t seem to mind the topic. “Tons. It’s all anyone talks about at school. Simpson isn’t the most exciting place, you know. The only stuff that happens is, like, some girl broke up with some guy or, you know, the Masons’ shed burned down or whatever.” He smiled.
Actually, with headless, floating dead guys popping up in reservoirs and tire-slashing, honey-dribbling stalkers on the loose, Lou could’ve done with a little less excitement lately. Instead of saying this, she just made a noncommittal sound that could have been interpreted as agreement.
“Some people have some crazy ideas,” Tyler continued, “like that there’s a serial killer living in Simpson, or that some occultists cut his head off as, like, a present to the devil, but the most popular theory is he got on the bad side of the Freedom Survivors.”
“Freedom Survivors?”
“That militia group outside of town.”
Lou made a face. “What kind of name is the Freedom Survivors? It makes it sound like they survived freedom.”
He shrugged. “What would you call them?”
“If I got to pick the name?” She thought for a moment. “How about Liberty or Death? Or maybe Soldiers of Freedom?”
“Like the video game?”
“No, like—” She was interrupted by someone clearing his throat. The throat-clearer sounded annoyed, so she was not too surprised to see that it was Callum.
“Hi,” she said with a sunny smile, knowing that would aggravate him even more. She had to take her fun where she could find it.
“Sparks,” he said, politely enough, although there was a growl somewhere underneath her name. “Is there a reason you’re not answering your phone?”
She glanced down at the coat hanging over the back of her chair. The phone was buried in one of the pockets, silenced as was only polite in a library. “The ringer’s off.”
Closing his eyes, he looked a little pained. “Would you mind turning your ringeronfor the remainder of the day?”
“Sure.” She glanced at the clock. “I should head home anyway.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No.” As if on cue, her stomach growled. “I’m starving, actually.”
“Want to go to Levi’s for some barbecue?”
Her eyes widened. “With you?”
“If you want to sit at separate tables, we can.” He really was the king of sarcasm. Before she met him, she’d thought she’d ranked pretty high in sarcasm royalty. Callum made her feel like an amateur.
