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“Geez,” I scoff. “So direct. Do you ever soften your blows?”
“I value honesty. I hate liars.”
Though we’re whispering, there’s so much intensity in his tone.
“Don’t lie to me again,” he utters.
“I won’t.” I turn my head to stare at him. He flicks to the ceiling. “Did you always hate when people touch you?”
Brandon releases an ominous rumble before saying, “No. Not always.”
“What caused it?” spills from my lips in a sweet-tempered whisper.
He presses his eyes shut, jaw twitching. “How did Doreen die?” His question catches me off-guard.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Brandon and the word predictable don’t mesh.
The organ in my chest increases tempo.
My throat suddenly feels like I’m eating gravel.
I shut my eyes and push down the heaviness.
Dreadful silence submerges the room.
“Too hard to talk about?” Brandon asks, voice calm.
“No,” I force out and pry my eyes open. After a quick breath, I rattle off, “It was a crash. Her best friend’s mom picked them up after a field trip. The other driver ran a red light. Everyone died.” I relax my body and turn my head, only to shiver from Brandon’s piercing gaze.
“Is she the reason you think you have to be so tough?”
I roll my eyes and look away. “It’s not an act.”
“Of course it is,” he decides. “You’re covering your pain.”
Well, that’s accurate.
How did he decode me so fast without knowing me? Perhaps…
“Because that’s what you do,” I mutter in my understanding. “This dark armor you wear is guarding the pain you feel, isn’t it? My sister used to say that people aren’t just bad; there’s always more.”
I look at him again.
“We’re hanging out after school on Friday,” he rasps.
Though warmth fills my tummy, I’m frustrated that he won’t share anything even after I’ve given some of myself.
“Like hell, I am.”
“I’m not asking,” Brandon clips, jaw clenching.
“Ugh.” I ease up on my elbows and glare at him. “I said no. Get out of my room.”
“For that, little artist, we’re going to my house on Thursday, too.”
I shake my head in wonder. “What the hell? That’s not how you win over a girl, Brandon.”
“I’m not trying to make you mine.” He half-smiles. “You already are.”
