Chapter 4

“I’ll go…You stay. You obviously were in the middle of something with my mom.” He half smiles, looking crazily guilty and unsure, his expression softening warmly to resemble Sylvana. I stop in surprise, looking at him dumbfoundedly, panic fading as he slowly backs away from me, making a show of keeping his hands up like I have a gun or something equally stupid, and it makes me forget myself for a moment. The good old mouth comes out all by herself.

“Put your hands down… that’s lame.” I often get verbal diarrhea at odd times, and this strange guy acting weird seems to be a trigger. He looks at his hands, then breaks into a smile that could potentially have the severe panty-melting ability if I was any other girl, and drops them by his sides.

“I guess it is. You just looked like you might want to take a low blow at my family jewels for a second.” He keeps moving away and still stares at me steadily, that smile brings out some surprising dimples that soften his whole face, and I relax a little more with the familiarness. He has his mom’s dimples, they give him a softer, more caring look, and I guess it might not hurt that on him. They look sort of maybe a little bit handsome.

“I really will go. Just need to grab a can of coke from the refrigerator behind you… you know, or you could? So, I stay over here.” He raises his brows at me, and it knocks me off guard that he realizes I don’t want him near me. He’s perceptive anyway, and I guess incredibly cute when he does that with his face, soft smile, and dimples. It’s like he can change his whole face with just a mannerism. It’s freaky; some sorcery obviously invented to weaken girls. I bet he practices in a mirror and has it down to an art form.

I hesitate and glance behind me at the huge steel refrigerator and then back at him, realizing I would rather do it than have him come over here again. Guilt flooding me that he is trying not to be as much of a douche as I am giving him credit for.

“You don’t need to go. It’s your mom’s house. I can just come back another time.” I move back and get him the soda anyway. After feeling for the coolest, I pull out a cold one, walk a little closer, and slide it across the table, so he won’t have to take it from me. I don’t want him to touch me, even if he is not so bad after all.

“I’m home for a week. It’s cool. I can get out of your way and leave you to bore yourself to tears with my mom. Just leave me some cake as thanks before you go.” He waits until I am back in my safe space before he moves to pick up the can, and I mellow toward him even more. He does seem to be trying to show me he isn’t a threat, and I wonder how much he knows about me. He doesn’t act like he knows anything, and I don’t know if Sylvana would have told him. I get the feeling he maybe senses something, and I must admit, it makes me a little unsure. Outside of the very few who have spoken to me about my past, I do not like people knowing.

“You don’t want to eat the cakes I make… I kill everything I touch. I am not a good cook.” I blink at him hopelessly, unsure why I’m even encouraging conversation. I should let him leave. I want him to go.

“I have a stomach made of steel; if I can handle my roommate’s attempts, then pretty sure yours won’t kill me. Besides, I kinda want to see how bad it can be. I’m intrigued now that you said you kill everything you touch.” He smiles at me, and I bristle a little defensively this time. It’s a hot smile, and I wonder if it’s his practiced pick-me-up grin he uses on girls he’s being cute with. I narrow my eyes and stare at him for a second, scrutinizing him and trying to decipher if he’s being fun or flirty. “You really don’t trust me, do you?” He smiles again, the half-smile I liked with the dimples, but I frown harder, trying to pick him apart and decide if he can be trusted. He’s too smooth, too self-assured, and I do not know.

“I don’t know you… I don’t trust anyone I don’t know.” I keep studying him, aware I am relaxing a little in his presence despite myself, and my heart is no longer trying to escape through my ribcage. I think the fact he’s keeping his distance and maintains a cool calmness and steady eye contact when he talks; it’s helping. There’s something stable about him. Like he’s so level, has no surprises or sudden movements, and has a cool tone when he talks. I can’t explain it. He brings a stillness to the room that confuses me and breaks down my defenses.

I think it’s maybe that he seems smarter than the average guy, able to read people, and reacts to give them what they need to relax. Or perhaps it’s something I should be wary of. Maybe he’s devious and clever and is just angling for something he will never get from me.

“Clever girl… It’s not a bad way to be. Earning trust happens to be something I’m good at.” He drops the smile and instead regards me intensely, our eyes meeting, and this time I don’t look away. We stare silently at one another for a second; I try so hard to figure him out, gauge his intentions, and I have no clue what he is looking for in me. It’s not awkward, just a fleeting moment of trying to suss one another out, and those hazel brown eyes begin to show flecks of green in the depths as he does so. I wonder if it’s a tell; eyes changing color when his moods do.

“Doubt I’ll be around long enough for that ever to happen,” I answer flatly. I’m warning him off, annoyed that he thinks he can easily earn my trust. Very few have it.

Emma… she’s probably the only one who has all of it.

No one else has full disclosure yet, and I am not sure they ever will.

“I should make the most of a new face in the street then… You could always come hang out with my friends and me, go for pizza, or whatever?” His question knocks me for six, and I blanch at him, confused that someone like him would ask a kid to go with his friends to eat. I’m not sure why he even would.

“Yeah. I don’t think so. You’re too old. I don’t like boys.” I answer snottily, furrowing my brows and clearly showing indifferent disinterest. He needs to be told straight off that I have zero intention of getting cozy with him.