Page 11 of Pieces Of You

“She’s like dust, Dahlia! Always around and fucking useless.”

“I gotta make a quick phone call,” Holden says from behind me.

I turn to him, notice his phone already held to his ear. “Lining up tonight’s booty call?”

The boywinks. Gross. “I got my booty call right in front of me.” Then he’s walking away, backward, his stupid smirk leaving me annoyed… and maybe a little breathless.

There’s no denying that Holden’s hot in a way that makes girls want to rip off their panties and do dirty things to themselves with the lights out. He’s tall, muscles upon muscles, and never without a cap that covers his dirty blond hair, hair that’s long enough to curl over the edges. But it’s his eyes I worry about the most. Green, like a lively forest. But when he looks at you—reallylooks at you—there’s nothingaliveabout his stare. Even when he’s cracking one-liners, they never brighten, never flash with anything other than indifference.

It’s as scary as it is captivating.

Kind of like serial killers.

Not that any of this matters, because I’ve fallen for the hot guy before, and that turned outpeachy. Truly. It’s not as if he broke me down, piece by piece, only to shatter what strength I had left and leave me questioning who I am and what my purpose is.

I’m being dramatic.

Probably.

I try to push away the sudden ache in my chest, but the tears come too fast, and I hate that they do. Of everything in my life I could’ve shed a tear over, dickhead Dean Griffith shouldn’t be it. I’ve spent the past year on the verge of breaking, and now? Now I decide to crack?Outstanding.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Holden shouts, clapping his hands together as he steps into the workshop.

I’m too surprised by his presence that I face him without thinking.

“Oh, shit.” He grimaces. “I don’t do crying girls.”

I sniff back my heartache and wipe the wetness off my cheeks. “Good. I don’t do idiot boys.”

“Liar.” His grin is stupid. “I give it three weeks until you’re begging me to bend you over this workbench and bone you from behind.”

“Two things,” I start, focusing on the tools again while I attempt to keep my voice even. “You just called yourself an idiot. Andbone? Who says that?”

He stops beside me, mimics my position. “Right, I forgot you were from a generation when dinosaurs ruled the Earth.” After taking out his phone, he makes note of what we’ll need to get the job done. He goes through a rough timeline with me, and I listen to every word he speaks. When he’s like this, when it’s just him and me, and there’s no innuendo to fall back on—it almost seems normal.Almost. And I don’t miss the fact that he skimmed right over the whole me crying incident. He didn’t ask why, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s genuinely uncomfortable or because he knows I wouldn’t tell him. Whatever his reasoning, I’m grateful.

When it’s time to leave, I check the nearest bus stops and their schedules on my phone. I don’t know where Holden lives or is planning to go, but I know for sure that it’s not anywhere near me. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I call out, walking down the driveway past his truck. “Unfortunately.”

“You calling for a ride?”

I keep my head down, eyes focused on times and routes. “Bus schedule.”

“My truck’s right here,” he shouts.

“I’m good.” I don’t turn to him, not even when I hear his rushed footsteps catching up to me.

“Quit being so stubborn. I can give you a ride.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I make it to the sidewalk before stopping and facing him. “It’s out of the way.”

A single eyebrow arches. “You know where I live now, Stalker Sadie?”

“Where the hell do you come up with these names?”

A burst of laughter falls from his lips. “Pleaseget in my truck, so I can say I’m driving Miss Daisy.”

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