Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(20)

Her eyes are wide and on me, leaving her no choice but to hold on tight.

“One.”

“Royce—”

“Two.”

“Don’t—”

“Five.”

I’m up the steps, my hand planted on the handle when hers flies out to cover mine, the heat of her palm freezing me on the spot.

My eyes slice to hers.

The muscles in my stomach coil over, and my arms stiffen around her.

She stares up at me, eyes a darkened, tortured turquoise, silently begging me to let go, turn the fuck around and walk back down.

This girl, she doesn’t know me.

I don’t know her.

So how the fuck do I know what she wants?

And even more warped, how does she know that I do?

She proves it by drawing her hand away, the cool night air replacing it as the breeze rolls over my knuckles.

I let go of the damn doorknob, but not her eyes.

I hold them with a heavy frown as I make my way across the grass, bypassing the spot I grabbed her from, and not stopping until we reach the car. I let her legs drop, lowering her feet to the ground and reach by her to tug on the door.

Something’s on the tip of her tongue, an attempt to argue maybe, but instead, she lets go, slides into the seat and stares straight ahead.

I close her in, taking slow as shit steps around the car too... I don’t even fuckin’ know why.

But it sure as hell seems necessary.

That alone should have me kicking her ass out of the car.

Instead, I slide inside it and take us to the first place I can find that’s still open—a small townie diner.

We’ve been here for twenty minutes now and for the last fifteen, she’s pretended not to be watching me from her corner of the booth while I’ve been purposely ignoring the fact that she is, straight focused on my fries and chocolate shake.

Her dramatic huff and hard smack of the spoon on the tabletop does what she wants, though.

I turn my head toward her. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I was outside?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I already know.”

“Okay...” She twists her body to face mine. “So why was I?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “I’m not playin’ your bullshit, just waitin’ until I get to take your ass back and drop you on the curb.”

“If that’s the truth, why bother showing up in the first place?”

My brows snap together, realizing I don’t know the answer to that.

What I do know is I felt restless, the need to get out and breathe was fucking smothering, so that’s what I did.

Ain’t nothin’ to it.

When I don’t respond, her eyes drop to her straw.

After a few quiet seconds, she says, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t do what?”

“Drop me on the curb.”

I wipe my face of all expression, my wall shooting higher, and with it comes a bit of a bite. “Don’t pretend to know me.”

“Don’t show your cards so quickly.”

“Girl—”

“Brielle.” She tips her chin.

Anger brims beneath my skin, heating me from the inside out.

I cock my head, but before I say a damn word, she raises her brows like a brat, leans into my space, and takes a fry from my plate, popping it into her mouth.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make sure I’m safe,” she says.

“I don’t give a shit what you are or aren’t,” I spit.

She’s twisting my damn nerves.

Brielle rolls her eyes, reaching for her milkshake. “Okay, I’ll rephrase, so we can pretend you’re impassive and careless when you’re clearly kind of not, how’s that sound?”

I glare. “Sounds like you want to be left here.”

She laughs but keeps her little smart-ass shit up. “There’s nothing wrong with you not liking the idea of a girl being in a dangerous situation. How was that... better?”

“If sleeping outside is a dangerous situation and you’re aware of that, why do it?”

“If walking onto a campus where people don’t know what a badass mama-jamma you are is dangerous, why do it?” she mocks.

I lick my lips, squashing the grin that’s tempted to show itself. “Ain’t nothin’ dangerous about that.”

“Picking a fight with a handful of guys and the dude who is basically their own little idol—or not little,” she corrects herself. “Franky is actually pretty gigantic and muscly and stuff and—” She laughs suddenly, cutting herself off. “What?”

I glare. “I didn’t say shit.”

She pulls her lips in, amusement washing over her, and it pisses me off.

“You didn’t say anything,” she agrees. “But your face did the whole ‘I’m annoyed’, angry boy thing.”

“I am annoyed. You talk too much.”

“And you brought me to this diner, sat us away from absolutely everyone, to what?” she steals another fry, swiping it along her ice cream before biting into it. “Eat?”

“Don’t get it twisted,” I say slowly. “We’re only here to kill time until you’re allowed inside the house you live in, but if you prefer to sleep on the ground, say the fuckin’ word and back we’ll fucking go.”