“What kind of stuff are you talking about?”
Razor picks up a stone and rolls it in his hand. “Drinking. Partying. Girls.” He shuts his mouth into a firm line, then opens it again. “I had sex for the first time last spring—the night I was patched in. Didn’t just have it once and I didn’t do it with the same girl. I was drunk and I was curious and I did it. Before that, I messed around with girls but never took it too far, and I haven’t taken it that far since. But...
“That night wasn’t right. Point is, if you’re around enough, you’re going to run into some of those girls. If you end up with me, someone will tell you the stories. They’ll tell you because we’re talking shit or because someone’s out to make you feel bad.”
My hand presses against my abdomen, as if someone had kicked me in the gut. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll never cheat,” he says in a tone that suggests I don’t question him. “I swear to God, if you’re with me, I’ll be faithful. I’m capable of a lot of things, but cheating’s not one of them.”
His eyes bore into mine and my head is swimming with so many thoughts and emotions. Even with the turbulence, there’s no doubt I can depend upon that promise like a life preserver.
“Do you kill people?” Because I can’t be with him if the answer is yes.
“No, and you watch too much TV. We’re a legit club. I won’t lie, I carry a weapon for my job. If some bastard shoots at me, by law, I’m allowed to shoot back. It’s called self-defense. But I only carry my gun when I’m working for the security company. When I’m off, it’s locked up tight in a safe at the club. I’m not interested in carrying any other time. A gun’s a heavy burden. I never forget that when I carry. Life means something to me and I don’t plan on stealing it from anyone else.”
My face practically twitches as I attempt to process that tidbit of information.
“Do you trust me?” Razor asks.
I survey the field and listen. The lack of people’s voices or the sound of traffic on the road confirms my answer. I’m already alone with him, so... “Yes. What do we do now? Take it one step at a time? Go from one day to the next until we get caught or decide to do something different?”
Razor cracks a grin. “Works for me. Especially if I get to kiss you.”
I laugh and my mind is hunting wildly for the logic, for the pattern. There’s a slow throb when I wind up chasing my tail. We’re a couple, but we’re not. We’re together, yet we’re supposed to be figuring out if we want to or should be together. We care for each other, yet we’re keeping it a secret.
The boy everyone sees but nobody knows is with the girl who everybody knows but nobody sees.
There’s no plan, no pattern, and while every part of me that relies on rational thought to make my decisions screams in protest, the part I hardly ever lead with, the part that has never led the way before...my heart...it takes a stand. “That works for me, too.”
RAZOR
IT’S MONDAY AND I’m playing a mixed-up version of hide-and-seek. Breanna said she hangs in the library before school, but she was nowhere to be seen near the tables at the front where everyone else is. But as Breanna’s proved time and again, she’s not like the rest of the sheep in this herd.
We kissed this weekend and made a lot of nondecisions. Since the moment I dropped her off a block from where she lived, I’ve been dying to see her again...to touch her again.
I cut down the first row of stacks, take a right and spot Breanna sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out and an open book in her lap. Her long midnight hair has fallen forward, shielding her mood from me. Once again, she’s in a skirt, but today she has a white button-down sweater over her blue top.
We’re alone and it’s what I want. This plan will work only if Kyle thinks Breanna’s abandoned me for him. I’m not surprised by the lack of people. She’s loitering in the 500’s. Doubt anyone is eager for early-morning reading on quantum physics. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Breanna brightens. She closes her book and I readjust my footing when I catch the title. She was reading about quantum physics. Should have guessed Breanna would be the exception to the rule. She often causes me to feel...unworthy.
I fail at masking my thoughts and Breanna places both of her hands over the title of the book before glancing away. I’m such a fucking ass. “You’re still cool.”
“You looked at me like I’m suffering from leprosy and my nose is dangling from my face. I’ve been well versed in that expression since seventh grade, so don’t bother lying to me.”
I edge near her. “What you saw was me feeling bad about myself.” Wondering what’s wrong with me that I can’t be more like her. “People take their insecurities out on the thing or person that makes them feel threatened.”