Page 37 of Broken Pieces
He shifts, leaning back on one elbow, turning slightly so the last light catches the line of his jaw. His lashes are too long, unfair on a boy who doesn’t deserve anything soft. His eyes are storm clouds when they flick toward me. Dangerous. Pulling.
He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, slow enough to wreck me.
My breath stumbles, chest flaring hot, heat coiling where I don’t want it. I drive my nails into my palms, pressing until the sting cuts through. Pain is the only anchor I have, because if I let go for even a second, I will do something reckless.
Then his voice sounds through the silence.
“I didn’t realize you hung around rooftops now.”
Cocky. Casual.
As if the air belongs to him and I am just trespassing in it.
I shrug and turn my head, forcing my eyes to stay on the horizon.
“I didn’t think you would be here, that’s all.”
“Guess we’re both full of surprises,” he says with that shit eating grin
He always does this.
Always manages to make it sound as if he knows more than he ever says, two steps ahead while I am still struggling to catch my breath.
I risk another glance, telling myself it is quick enough not to count.
It isn’t.
I fail before I even try.
His eyes are already on me.
“What?” I snap, heat clawing up my neck.
“Nothing.” He draws it out. “Just wondering what it’s like to be up here with me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He leans back, head tilting, eyes narrowing with that lazy calm that drives me insane. “C’mon, Sky, you were practically staring.”
“Was not.”
“You were.” His smirk widens, smug and unshakable. “But it’s fine. I get it. I’m hot.”
The arrogance sparks through me, sharp and unignorable. “Congratulations. Want me to get you a medal, or should I buy you a bigger mirror?”
His laugh rolls out low and satisfied, the sound of someone who knows exactly where to pull the strings.
He is having the time of his fucking life watching me come apart.
The memory of Samantha slams into me, souring the heat in my chest until it curdles. Jealousy, the kind I refuse to admit to, but it rises anyway.
“So…” I mutter, tugging at a loose thread on my sleeve, refusing to meet his eyes. “You and Samantha. That’s a thing now?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
His mouth curves at the corner, almost cruel, before a slow laugh drips out.
“That why you’re really up here?”
