Love Storm Read Free Page B

watched her eyes as they flickered between a soft sadness, to a hard anger, then faded to a sort of coiled up frustration I had never seen before in her. I wondered what it was.
    And as I watched her, I thought, for the first time, that Winter was actually quite pretty in her own way. She was more petite than the girls I usually went for though – probably a whole head shorter than my own 5'11". Her auburn hair was long and silky, and fell a couple inches past her shoulders down her back in long waves. Winter's complexion was light, creamy, and completely unmarred by the terrible barrage of acne that most unlucky teenagers had to deal with. She had a petite little nose that always wrinkled just a little when I sat down. Yes, her looks were pretty in a pure sort of way, I decided, but she was definitely a girl I would not pursue. There was that sarcastic temper you would have to constantly deal with, for one.
    "So how's Eva been?" I stabbed at an attempt to make conversation, choosing my words carefully.
    "Eva," Winter said. "She's all anyone ever asks me about, anyway." Her mood had suddenly shifted. She now looked slightly removed, not at all her usual self.
    "What do you mean?" I asked casually, tearing the crust from his pizza and starting on it first.
    She stared out into space for a moment before returning her gaze to my face. She looked startled to see me sitting there, eating my pizza calmly. "I eat my pizza like that too," she said, giving me an odd look.
    I shrugged.
    "Eva," Winter frowned, looking down at her half-eaten sandwich. She was quiet for a moment. "Zack," she started, pulling away from the subject, "Why were you stalking Eva?"
    I stared at her for a moment. Took in her completely innocent question, her imploring eyes, the way she had cocked her head slightly out of curiosity as she had asked the question, all in one glance, and I laughed. I just couldn't help myself.
    "What's so funny?" she frowned, as I continued to chuckle. "That's the second time someone has laughed at me in a very short period of time, something, I can assure you, which does not happen very often."
    I smirked. "Contrary to popular belief, I really am not a serial killer who takes a sadistic pleasure in stalking and scaring my victims before I torture them to death. I think that was the phrase." Sure enough, the words had the desired effect.
    "Oh boy," she muttered. "You have a super good memory, I'll give you that. You heard?" Winter said, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
    "Yes," I said, grinning. "And I wasn't stalking Eva." I then proceeded to rattle off all the reasons I just so happened to be where Eva was when Winter had seen me. It was just that my classes were right there, or that I always waited for Brock Davis at such and such place, or that my schedule just so happened to be very near hers. I didn't say that sometimes I took the long way to class, just to see Eva in the hall, walking along with Winter. Those two are inseparable, I swear, I thought to myself as Winter mulled this explanation over.
    The truth was, I harbored an odd fascinated with the best friend of the girl sitting across from me. I couldn't say what it was. It had begun about the week before school had started. I had seen Eva twice in those last few days of freedom – the first time had been at the library. She had been sitting with Winter, and the two friends had been wrapping up their summer homework with an air of resentment. I had watched them for a while, my eyes drawn to the taller, blonde haired girl who seemed oddly familiar. Winter I remembered vaguely from middle school – 6th grade woodshop class; she had spilled fire-engine red paint all over my project on accident.
    The second time I had seen Eva had been at the supermarket. She was again with Winter, who was looking slightly hassled as she pulled along a very reluctant looking, tall blonde guy ( her boyfriend, perhaps? I had wondered). I had heard Winter call to her, "Eva," and I was