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“Ren?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. She was the only one who called him that; she wasn’t even sure when or how it had started. But here they were preparing for the last game of the regular season and he was Ren to her, mostly called Cade by others.
“Wanna share?” she asked, holding her hand out.
Instead of sharing, he handed the pack and lighter to her. He never was one for many words, and unlike others, it didn’t bother her. She understood him and the way his thought process was always churning.
Because he’d told her.
When he’d failed to share that with so many.
“Anything you want to talk about?” She gestured towards his scowl. “Seems serious, whatever it is.”
“You could say that.”
She smiled before lighting her own cigarette and handing the pack and lighter back to him. “You don’t have to say a word, but I’m here if you’d like to.”
“Yeah, I know. I mean...I mean it means a lot to me. Fuck, I’m not making any sense.” His scowl deepened and he finished the cigarette in his hand, grinding it with his foot with more force than needed.
“I get it.”
“I don’t think you do, Trina.”
She loved the way her name sounded on his lips.
But she didn’t love the mood he was in.
Most people thought he had it made—a foster kid living with the richest family in town, going to one of the best schools in the state. Still, he’d assured her that he’d seen his share of hell, and somehow it followed him.
“I’d like to try.”
When his lower lip trembled for the slightest moment, she noticed.
When he wiped his eyes with his forearm, as if he were wiping away sweat though she could swear there were tears, she noticed.
She noticed everything when it came to Lorenzo Cade.
“I hear I owe you a happy birthday.”
“The big fourteen,” she replied, her heart dancing at his mention of her birthday.
Maybe he noticed everything when it came to her.
“Same as me,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.
“You’re only fourteen?” She’d imagined he were older, perhaps held back a year somewhere along the line. He nodded though, and she kept her mouth from dropping open. He seemed so much older.
Perhaps he was merely an old soul.
Or perhaps he’d seen things in his years in the system that would cause him to grow up too soon.
“When’s your birthday?” she asked after blowing a perfect smoke ring that he followed with his eyes.
“Same.”
“Today?” she asked, then shook her head. “How are you not celebrating right now?”
“I am.” His eyes locked with hers. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”
