Page 8 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
When he looks away, I scoff. Fake contrition from a dog.
Laughter draws my gaze back up, and I find my sister licking an ice cream cone in the middle of the cluster of Aleck’s friends. She’s peering up at one of them, batting her eyelashes and giggling, and the boy is entranced. I smirk when I realize just who she’s flirting with. Aleck’s cousin and best friend, Parker.
Damn, Glory Bell is vicious. I’m proud. She’s way more daring than I am. One flick of my gaze toward Aleck and I can tell her plan is working. He isfuming. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing outright.
I’m so focused on the masterfully executed revenge plan in front of me that I’m momentarily shocked when the dog barks and takes off running, ripping the leash from my hands.
“King!” Glory yells and takes off running after him, so I follow. “King! Torren King, get back here!”
I’m wearing sneakers, not ridiculous platform flip-flops like Glory has on, so it doesn’t take long for me to catch up to her.
“I’ll get him,” I pant out. “Stay here before you break your ankle.”
Then I hustle after the damn dog. I weave in and out of bodies, once almost taking out a clown juggling bowling pins, but I don’t take my eyes off the dog. My only saving grace is that the crowd is slowing him down, too.
“King,” I shout after him breathlessly. “Someone stop that dog! King, come back!”
Goddamn this stupid fucking dog. I haven’t run in years. I haven’t run this far this fast since gym class in high school. I am very,veryout of shape. I feel like I might die. Death by cardio will be in my obituary.
“Torren King,” I screech, my words coming out in spurts. “Goddamn it, come back here!”
His fluffy black butt rounds a corner, so I barrel forward after him.
“Torren Kin?—”
My words cut off when I crash into something hard, like a thin mattress on a brick wall, and my breath is sucked from my chest on impact. My vision blacks out, and I fall backward, barely recognizing the sound of clattering glass and splashing before I’m landing roughly against something warm and firm. My hands clutch fabric and muscle, and I gasp for air, getting a lungful of tobacco and leather.
It doesn’t register right away.
Not until the hint of ginger follows, and then my eyes are springing open, and I find my shocked reflection mirrored back at me in a pair of aviator sunglasses shaded under a black baseball cap. In the reflection, I watch as tattooed fingers brush my hair off my face and tuck strands behind my ears. The silver rings glint in the sunlight.
My breath is gone again.
“You alright?”
I blink. My chest burns, needing more oxygen, but I can’t...I can’t...
“Breathe,” he says, and I obey immediately.
I gasp, pulling in more of his familiar scent, hating it but needing it to survive. Sweat drips from my hairline and down my temples. It stings my eyes. I’m hot, but cold, and sticky with sweat.
“That’s it. There you go. Just breathe. You’re okay.”
I close my eyes again and gulp back more air, wincing around the sound of my frantic heart pounding inside my head. The whole time, I will myself to disappear.
This is a dream. I wiped out and was knocked unconscious, and this is a dream. This is not real. This is absolutely, completely, a dream.
“You’re okay. Just relax. Just breathe.”
Damn it.
That voice is very, very real.
When the sounds of chatter get louder, then laughter, then someone says,you need to step back, I force myself to open my eyes. Confirmation that my most mortifying nightmare has come to reality.
“Shit.” It slips from my mouth in a whisper, but he smiles, letting me know he heard it.
“Can you stand?”
