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

arms and won ’ t let me pass. My eyes flicker up to meet hers and then back down.
    “ Would you … can I get by please? I need to wash my face. ”
    “ Oh. Sorry. ”
    She squints and nods, stepping aside and pulling her purse away from her and onto the counter next to me. She catches my glance in the mirror.
    “ I hope you don ’ t mind. I saw you running toward the bathroom and figured you may need some help freshening up …” she pauses and I watch her consider her words. “ Listen … is this … I saw you collapse against the stool back there … . ”
    I reach for a paper towel. Turning off the water I motion toward her bag and wipe my face.
    Holy hell what is it with these people and their questions?
    “ Thanks, but I think I ’ m good. I wasn ’ t wearing make up today anyway. ” I look down to my loosely fitted black shirt that falls to mid-thigh, black leggings, and black boots. I make an attempt to smile. “ Not sure all of your … color … would go well with this ensemble of doom I have going on here. ”
    I pat my cheeks and drag my hands down toward my neck. She ’ s too silent. As if she is just waiting for me to spill my secrets. I don ’ t do well with silence. I can feel the flames inching closer and closer and the words forming. I have to get out — get away — there ’ s something about her that begs for explanation.
    “ Well, I mean, technically yes. The color would look fan-damn-tastic with that black. Contrasts and all. ” She winks.
    I roll my eyes.
    Who is this girl? I think of the last person who drew me in with curiosity and possible friendship and I stiffen with suspicion. Another level of armor locks in place.
    “ I ’ ll be okay. I promise. I just am getting over some weird food poisoning and it hits when I least expect it. ”
    Her eyes squint and she sets her jaw.
    Stop. Looking. At. Me.
    “ Okay well, if you need anything let me know? I ’ ve worked sick before. It blows. ” She grabs her purse and walks out the door.
    I place my hands on the sink and look at myself in the mirror again, the red tendrils falling around my face. I know Jessa didn ’ t buy my excuse of food poisoning. But what do I say? Sorry. I puke when I think about my family? How ’ s that for an explanation? I moan and let my head fall.
    Maybe these new beginnings are harder than I thought.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
    I get to my room that night and notice a journal propped up against my door. I frown, looking around. It ’ s a Moleskine, my favorite. I haven ’ t bought one since moving here though because I just throw them in the trash once I ’ m done anyway.
    Leaning over to pick it up I crack open the spine, the blank pages calling to me as they always do. I snap it shut and let it fall out of my hands and onto the floor, unwilling to think about how or why it appeared here. It ’ s not like anyone knows me.
    Maybe someone dropped it in the hallway and then someone else thought it belonged to this room.
    Satisfied, and leaving the journal behind me, I swipe my card over the door handle and walk into my room, kicking off my shoes and rolling my head to stretch my neck. I curl my lip at the thermostat, noticing that room service adjusted the temperature again.
    Benefits of living in a hotel: you don ’ t have to pay for electricity or cable.
    Bumping it down to a comfortable setting, I shuffle to the bathroom, turning the faucet to run the water for a long soak in the tub.
    I walk back toward the bed and turn on the TV. Flipping through the channels, I grimace.
    Gameshow. Gameshow. Crime show. Dumb sitcom. Infomercial.
    I settle for a show about Amish teenagers losing their minds in New York City and turn back toward the bathroom, goosebumps lining my skin as the air kicks on above and around me. I sink deep into the scalding water, rolling forward to light the candles I hide in a drawer while I ’ m gone. The candles were one of my first purchases when I