Priceless (Forbidden Men #8)(11)

It wasn’t until Reese came along and saw me inside my shell of a body that I began to realize I didn’t have to let my limitations actually limit me. I had just as much right to be alive as anyone else on earth. I didn’t have to be ashamed of...well, myself.

Then again, I’d only known Reese a little over eight months now, not all that much time for her to really strengthen my ego. So when I found myself in a situation I wasn’t sure how to handle, I reverted back to my old pitiful-Sarah self, feeling unworthy compared to every other human on the planet.

But Brandt kept hovering there, waiting for me to show. I couldn’t let him down. Plus, I had no idea what I’d tell him when he logged onto Facebook later and demanded to know why I’d flaked out on him.

Beginning to look lost and abandoned, he backed closer to the wall of the hall and tightened the strap of his book bag higher on his shoulder. Unable to let him experience another moment of uncertainty, I motored my wheelchair across the traffic of streaming students and started toward him.

Determined to do this, I plowed forward with maybe a bit too much speed. When he noticed my harried approach, his eyes flared and he stumbled backward to get out of my path. But I turned, following him before braking so fast that the wheels of my chair screeched out a high-pitched whine against the tile floor.

“Uh...” Brandt glanced around him as if seeking instruction as to the proper etiquette when one was accosted by a girl in a wheelchair before he veered his confused gaze back to me.

He had blue eyes, a dark, piercing navy that made the nerves in my stomach shudder madly and my palms turn clammy and gross. I stared up at them a second longer, overwhelmed as he gaped at me, before turning my attention to the computer on my lap. My fingers twitched as they hovered over the keyboard, and I contemplated what to say.

Hi, I’m Sarah?

No, too lame.

Nice black eye.

Ack. That was worse.

Needing to say something—anything—I poked out Welcome to Ellamore Middle School only to erase it and merely say Hey Brandt. Then I looked up at him expectantly. I was so nervous how he’d respond I could hear my heartbeat pound through my ears. What if he laughed at my pathetic-ness, walked away, and never talked to me on Facebook again?

He blinked, his confusion only growing, and I wondered if I should’ve actually spoken the greeting. But I hated talking, so I avoided verbal communication whenever possible.

Finally, Brandt dropped his gaze to the screen of my laptop. His eyebrows bunched with shock. “You—” Then he tilted his head to the side as he reread the message. Blue eyes flashed back to my face. “Wait. How did you know my name?”

This was where I was supposed to confess I was Sarah, the girl he’d been dishing his entire life story to online these past few days.

But for some reason, I just couldn’t do it yet, so I typed I’m psychic instead.

He blinked at the two words and those expressive eyebrows of his arched, disappearing up under his shaggy bangs. When he lifted his attention from my tablet to my face, I wrote, Or maybe it’s written on your shirt.

After reading the next line, he immediately checked out the front of his shirt.

I laughed, making him spear me with a surprised glance. So I finally gave in and wrote, Or maybe because I’m Sarah. Then I bit my lip and waited for the fallout.

But that explanation seemed to confuse him more than all the others.

“Huh?” he said, frowning.

I didn’t have to clarify, though. A moment later, his eyes widened. He zipped his gaze up to mine before scanning over my wheelchair.

“Holy shit,” he exploded just before an appalled expression lit his face as if he couldn’t believe he’d just said that in front of me. Guilt flooded his features as he returned his attention to my face right before he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he muffled out and then dropped his fingers to add, “I just...I had no idea.”

I almost acted stupid and asked what he had no idea about, but I felt a little too crushed to bother. My first chance to make a friend...ruined because I’d waited too long to tell him the truth.

Lowering my gaze to my laptop, I began to type out an apology, but the familiar voice of one of the school’s most notorious beautiful, mean girls said, “Hey, you’re new here, aren’t you?”

I looked up in time to see Chloe Hilliard twist a piece of her long, platinum blonde hair around her finger as she smiled at Brandt.

“Uh, yeah,” Brandt answered, transferring his alarmed gaze to Chloe before he looked at me and then back up at her again. “I’m Brandt.”

“Chloe,” she answered with a Cheshire cat smile before she extended her hand past me to shake with him.

She never once glanced down at me, completely ignoring the fact I was sitting right there and had been talking to him. Honestly, I don’t think she even realized I was there. Brandt glanced between the two of us before hesitantly reaching out to shake with her.

Glumly realizing my moment with him was over, I slid my attention downward to hide my disappointment. The screen of my laptop blared up at me, showing off everything I’d written.

I wanted to be mad at him for turning away from me, but after the friendship we’d formed over the last few days, I was mostly just sad it was over.

With a sigh, I began to type, needing something to do to distract myself from the depressing mortification roaring through me. I knew I should probably be used to getting ignored and set aside like this, since it happened so often, but it still had the power to completely humiliate me. I’d been so hopeful about connecting with Brandt.