Somewhere Between Water and Sky (Shattered Things #2) Read Free

quickening of my pulse. This isn ’ t the rushed pulse of excitement or terror — this is being found out. Known.
    These are the moments his voice is loudest.
    Whore. The guy yelled out of the bus window.
    Whore. My dad would call me on days I didn ’ t bring in enough money.
    Whore was the look in Kevin ’ s eyes when he found me in the shed.
    This is why I don ’ t do relationships.
    I force myself to stand still and not run. I look him in the eyes and say nothing.
    “ I can ’ t read you. Ever. I ask questions and you answer them, but there ’ s not any emotion behind the words. Like who turns down an acceptance from USC? ”
    “ Are you saying I ’ m not genuine? ”
    He looks me over and answers with another question. “ What are you, like 18? Did you graduate early? ”
    “ Do you always ask this many questions? ”
    He ’ s not deterred. He steps toward me. “ And your hair. ” He glances at my roots.
    Rude.
    “ This isn ’ t your natural color. ”
    He grabs a strand and I jerk my neck away from his touch. He smiles.
    “ Do you mind? ” I ’ m getting a little angry and a lot antsy at him pushing for answers.
    “ You don ’ t like people touching you. ”
    “ No shit, Sherlock. ” I have no clue whether or not his questions are considered within social norms but I ’ m not used to it and they make me uncomfortable. I ’ m not used to this level of friendly intimacy between strangers. I feel my armor lock into place and my gaze steels.
    “ I thought I already had my interview. ”
    He raises an eyebrow and chuckles and then pauses to glance over my shoulder, our conversation momentarily forgotten. I notice the distraction and turn to follow his gaze as I stick a straw in my cup and take a sip.
    There ’ s a girl walking up to us — someone I haven ’ t met before. Her hips sashay with the music playing overhead and she ’ s waving at the cooks in the back as they holler their welcome.
    Everything about her is color. Her hair, although a dark brown, is streaked with blues, purples and reds. Her lips are magenta. On her forearm is a dream catcher tattoo with feathers. Her shoes are khaki wedges with rainbow stripes wrapped around her ankles. And when she grabs an apron out of a locker and looks at both of us, her bright green eyes pop out of the highlighted eyeshadow.
    Standing next to her technicolor, I feel monotone.
    She smiles at me and bumps my arm with hers as she ties her apron.
    “ Damn, Ren. What are you doing to this girl? She looks like she ’ s seen a ghost. ” She reaches for a rubber band on her wrist and doubles over to throw her rainbow hair into a high bun. I notice Ren looking away and hiding a smile. Straightening up and sighing, she reaches for my hand.
    “ Hi. I ’ m Jessa. You must be the new girl. I ’ ve seen you on the schedule but just got back from vacation with the family. Your name ’ s Stephanie, right? ”
    I nod and she glances back at Ren, still staring out the window toward the bikes and people on roller skates passing us. I catch a smile fly across her face and she leans sideways to whisper in my ear.
    “ Don ’ t pay attention to him. Seriously. He thinks he can figure anyone out in less than thirty minutes. ”
    He jerks back to attention, crossing his arms.
    “ If I remember correctly, it took less than that for me to figure you out. ”
    She looks him up and down and shakes her head.
    “ No, love. You remember wrong. There ’ s far more nuance in these bones than you ’ d care to admit. ” She slaps her hip and winks. Ren swallows.
    She looks back at me. “ Nice meeting you, Steph. We need some more girls around here. ” Squeezing my forearm she smiles and juts her chin toward Ren. “ Remember: all bark no bite. ”
    I furrow my brow and watch her walk over to our chalkboard to write the evening special — along with the daily quote minus the attribution. Anyone who can tell us who said it gets a coupon for a free drink. She throws the