Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(23)
I flick my eyes to the sky. “I swear, you’re like... a pizza pocket. Hot on the outside, so you start eating it, but if you don’t get the timing just right, you find out it’s cold in the middle.”
His head tugs back and he gives a hard blink. “What?”
I growl and try again. “You make no sense!”
“Not seeing the problem here. I’m hot and you want a bite.”
“Not what I was saying at all.”
He throws his arms out. “Okay, Tiny Tina, what are you saying?”
“It’s like you do things without knowing why you do them, but when you stop and realize your moves, you convince yourself the reason behind it is the worst possible one your warped mind can come up with, when I’m pretty sure decency is hidden under all that swag. Somewhere deep down. Like deep, deep down.”
He licks his lips through his doubling frown. “How deep?”
My arms slap against my thighs, and I can’t help the laugh that spurts out of me.
He literally can’t help himself, poor guy. And here I thought I was master at avoiding emotions.
As I look away from him, my amusement fades, getting lost in the night around us, so I find the brightest star I can and hold on to it as I let him in on my concern. “I don’t want to give people here another reason to whisper about me.”
“Fuck ‘em.”
“Because it’s that simple.”
“It is.”
“No. It’s not. Not for normal people in normal worlds.” I look to him. “The people in this town were born here, went to the same schools their entire lives, live on the same streets. Coming into a tight-knit place like this wasn’t exactly smooth, and I didn’t have anyone with me to go through it with. You’re stirring things up for me again.”
Royce’s features tighten. “Bishop should have put them in their place a long ass time ago and none of this would be a problem.”
“But he’s not here to do that, is he?” I raise a brow. “Now, tomorrow at school, as soon as those guys get the chance, they’ll talk smack and the rest will be coming at me with their jeans around their ankles because you decide to play me as one of your BrayGirls.”
He grows tense.
I grow tense.
Oh my shit.
Royce holds still, then brings a hand up to drag it down his face as he glances off.
My eyes remain lasered on him and as his return, it’s with a calculated tip of his head.
He stalks toward me with slow, deliberate steps until he’s close enough to plant his hands on the window beside my shoulders.
His reach is long, so there’s still some space between us, but at the new angle, his face is a bit more on my level, and suddenly I’m staring straight into his bottomless brown eyes as he asks what he wants to know.
“What do you know about being a BrayGirl?”
I open my mouth to respond, but he speaks again before I’m able.
“Be straight-up with me, little Bishop,” he warns. “No bullshit.”
Okay, fine.
I lay out what I’ve learned. “I know it’s what people call the girls who spend their nights with you or your brothers, or anyone who has earned the Brayshaw name.”
“Morning, afternoons, we ain’t picky on time of day, baby girl.” He’s angry and hard focused. “Keep going.”
“It’s a girl who is on lockdown. Untouchable to everyone, watched by all to keep her from doing things a Bray wouldn’t like or things she shouldn’t. Basically, she’s bound in bubble wrap, only to be undone by her man.”
“Temporary man,” he fires off.
“Right.” I shake my head in disdain. “Because she’s good enough for his bed, but not his heart.”
His jaw clenches. “You the type?”
“You’ll never know,” I toss back, holding eye contact for a few seconds only to turn away the next. I stare out at the darkness surrounding us. “Can you unlock the door now?”
“Why should I?” His shoes slide along the gravel beneath our feet, his body growing nearer. “You act like you’ve got a place to go.”
“I do.” I turn to him with a straight face. “It’s past ten.”
He stares a moment, running his tongue along his upper lip. “So that’s the magic number, huh?” he asks, frustration slowing his words.
I shrug, tucking my loose hairs behind my ears. “Will you give me a ride or not?”
The muscles in his forearms flex near my face, but I don’t look. I keep my eyes on his and finally, one by one, his hands fall to his sides.
“Yeah, little Bishop.” He reaches out, opening the door he must have unlocked without my notice. “I will.”
He begins walking around the hood, and my body rotates with him, holding eye contact until he dips into the driver’s seat.
I wipe my hands on my bottoms and slip inside.
Royce stares straight ahead, a heavy frown etched along his forehead, his left leg bouncing. He puts the car in drive, rolls a half foot forward, only to come down hard on the brakes. He throws it right back into park and jumps out.
I can’t swing my head around fast enough to follow, only spotting a blur of a black T-shirt disappearing through the diner door.