Until Alex Read Free

he’d said too much.
    I didn’t bother to mention my crying had lasted for almost a month. Instead, I shook off the unsettling thought and drew in a deep cleansing breath, actually feeling my lungs expand. “But then you sat down, and poof. They all but disappeared.”
    He made no attempt to respond. His eyes stayed lowered.
    Had I made him uncomfortable? Had my honesty embarrassed him?
    I stared down at his twisting fingers, his short clean nails, his knuckles covered with faded bruises and crisscrossed scars. Did he play sports? Work manual labor? Both?
    Without even thinking, I placed my hand on his bare forearm. Good Lord. It was hard as a rock. “Thank you.”
    His arm stiffened. His eyes shot to my fingers wrapped around it.
    I’d crossed some invisible boundary line. But what could I do? To remove my hand at that point would’ve made it even more awkward.
    His eyes lifted to mine for a brief moment. And though it was brief, I caught the regret that flashed in them. It wasn’t regret for me. More like regret he sat down next to me. Regret he crossed my path.
    Without a word, he hopped to his feet.
    My hand dropped unceremoniously to my side as I watched him tear off toward the building. When he reached the door, I expected him to turn around. To say something. But he didn’t. He threw open the heavy door and disappeared inside.
     
    HAYDEN
    I dropped onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in my hands. I knew I shouldn’t have gone out there.
    Miracle worker?
    On what fucking planet? The girl clearly had me confused with someone who cared about other people. If she knew me—knew the truth about me—she’d see I was the complete opposite. 
    But man, after sitting beside her in that tight red tank top and ripped jean skirt showing off her incredible legs, I couldn’t ignore the obvious. Very few could pull off the model body with girl-next-door face. She could. And did. Tenfold.
    Even with the tears flooding her emerald eyes, a color I’d only ever seen in a tropical fish tank, she had the most flawless pale skin. Tiny freckles, unnoticeable from a distance, speckled her little nose. Pouty lips any guy would die to kiss, or enjoy in other creative ways, sat perfectly perched on her face. And the scent of vanilla rolled off her body like she bathed in it.
    Jesus . Just thinking about her heated me in all the wrong places.
    I fell back onto my bed, growling out my frustration. Since when did I start daydreaming about girls? That shit didn’t happen to me. Hot girls surrounded me on a nightly basis. I had my pick. No need to think about them when they weren’t around. I’d just replace them with the next.
    Sure, this girl’s looks might’ve caused my boxers to stand at attention, but something else wound me tightly, irritated me, fucked with my head. Something I sensed watching her. Sitting next to her. Having her frail hand on my arm.
    Pain.
    It had to be the pain. Pain so prominent in her eyes it put me on edge. Made me jittery. Made me uneasy. Because I’d been there. I’d felt pain so severe, so intense, so relentless, I thought I’d die from it.
    She was obviously dealing with some major shit. Major shit I was not equipped to deal with. 
    I gripped the sides of my head, digging my fingertips into my scalp just enough to cause a sting. And then, like clockwork, my anger kicked in. It never ventured too far, always lurking right below the surface, ready to erupt. It was the only emotion that came naturally. The only one I could rely on. The only one I could trust.
    Who the hell did this girl think she was worming her way into my head? What gave her the right to make me concerned like the pussy I’d been for the past four days?
    Maybe I didn’t know her name, but I knew her type. Girls like her only slummed it with guys like me to piss off their daddies. Their twisted way of getting them to fork over cash for jewelry, shopping sprees, and fancy cars. 
    I needed to snap the hell out of it. I lived