Hopeless (Hopeless #1)(44)
Breckin nods carefully, still looking at me with eyes full of scepticism. Or curiosity. “Impressive.”
“It was an excruciatingly boring weekend,” Holder says to Breckin.
I laugh, but Breckin looks at me like I’m crazy again. “Holder loves boring,” I assure him. “He means that in a nice way.”
Breckin looks back and forth between the two of us, then shakes his head and leans forward, picking up his fork. “Not much confuses me,” he says, pointing his fork at us. “But you two are an exception.” I nod in complete agreement.
We continue on with lunch and have somewhat normal, decent interaction between the three of us.
Holder and Breckin start talking about the book he let me borrow and the fact that Holder is even discussing a romance novel at all is entertaining in itself, but the fact that he’s arguing about the plot with Breckin is sickeningly adorable. Every now and then he places his hand on my leg or rubs my back or kisses the side of my head, and he’s going through these motions like they’re second nature, but to me not a single one of them goes unnoticed.
I’m trying to process the shift from last week to this week and I can’t get past the notion that we might just be too good. Whatever this is and whatever we’re doing seems too good and too right and too perfect and it makes me think of all the books I’ve read and how, when things get too good and too right and too perfect, it’s only because the ugly twist hasn’t yet infiltrated the goodness of it all and I suddenly—
“Sky,” Holder says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I look at him and he’s eyeing me cautiously. “Where’d you go?”
I shake my head and smile, not knowing what just set off that mini internal panic attack. He slides his hand just below my ear and runs his thumb across my cheekbone. “You have to quit checking out like that.
It freaks me out a little bit.”
“Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “I’m easily distracted.” I bring my hand up and pull his hand away from my neck, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. “Really, I’m fine.” His gaze drops to my hand. He flips it over and slides my sleeve up, then twists my wrist back and forth.
“Where’d you get that?” he says, looking down at my wrist.
I look down to see what he’s referring to and realize I’m still wearing the bracelet I put on this morning. He looks back up at me and I shrug. I’m not really in the mood to explain it. It’s complicated and he’ll ask questions and lunch is almost over.
“Where’d you get it?” he says again, this time a little more demanding. His grip tightens around my wrist and he’s staring at me coldly, expecting an explanation. I pull my wrist away, not liking where this is going.
“You think I got it from a guy?” I ask, puzzled by his reaction. I hadn’t really pegged him for the jealous type, but this doesn’t really seem like jealousy. It seems like crazy.
He doesn’t answer my question. He keeps glaring at me like I’ve got some sort of huge confession that I’m refusing to reveal. I don’t know what he expects, but his attitude right now is more than likely going to end up with him getting slapped, rather than with me giving an explanation.
Breckin shifts uncomfortably in his seat and clears his throat. “Holder. Ease up, man.” Holder’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, it grows even colder. He leans forward a few inches and lowers his voice when he speaks. “Who gave you the damn bracelet, Sky?” His words transform into an unbearable weight in my chest and all the same warning signs that flashed in my head when I first met him are flashing again, only this time they’re in big neon letters. I
know my mouth is agape and my eyes are wide, but I’m relieved that hope isn’t a tangible thing, because everyone around me would see mine crumbling.
He closes his eyes and faces forward, setting his elbows on the table. His palms press against his forehead and he inhales a long, deep breath. I’m not sure if the breath is more for a calming affect, or a distraction to keep him from yelling. He runs his hand through his hair and grips the back of his neck.
“Shit!” he says. His voice is harsh and it causes me to flinch. He stands up and walks away unexpectedly, leaving his tray on the table. My eyes follow him as he continues across the cafeteria without once looking back at me. He slaps the cafeteria doors with both palms and disappears through them. I don’t even blink or breathe again until the doors finish swinging, coming to a complete standstill.
I turn back to Breckin and I can only imagine the shock on my face right now. I blink and shake my head, replaying the last two minutes of the scene in my head. Breckin reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, but doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. We both lost all of our words the second Holder disappeared through those doors.
The bell rings and the cafeteria becomes a whirlwind of commotion, but I can’t move. Everyone is moving around and emptying trays and clearing tables, but the world of our table is a stilled one. Breckin finally lets go of my hand and grabs our trays, then comes back for Holder’s tray and clears off the table.
He picks up my backpack and takes my hand again, pulling me up. He puts my backpack over his shoulder, then walks me out of the cafeteria. He doesn’t walk me to my locker or walk me to my classroom. He holds my hand and pulls me along behind him until we’re out the doors and across the parking lot and he’s opening a door and pushing me inside an unfamiliar car. He slides into his seat and cranks the car, then turns in his seat and faces me.