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“Let’s go give him something to drink!” Zoey exclaims. “I reckon he’s thirsty from all that lifting.”
“Not as much as I am.” Sandy laughs.
“I’ll give him my energy drink.” Harry winks and the girls go back to talking about Creighton’s dick.
I slowly slip from their circle, the whole scene leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
It’s not a secret that Creighton is popular without even trying. Ava told me that’s been the case ever since they were kids. Girls have flocked to his silent personality and stellar looks since elementary school.
That’s me. I’m girls. Girls is me.
Or were me. I’m totally over him now.
Totally.
I work for some time, then I make sure the animals have their food. After I kiss Tiger goodbye, I leave the shelter.
The distance to campus is about ten minutes by car, but I prefer to walk the half hour and clear my head.
It helps that the seaside is on the way and I can get lost in its beauty. It’s violent today, considering how the giant waves crash against the rocks.
I try not to think about the scene I left back at the shelter, but it keeps niggling at the edge of my consciousness.
So I pull out my AirPods and put on Tchaikovsky’s third symphony on the highest volume, hoping it’ll be able to drown out the restlessness.
Ten minutes later, I feel more balanced. No surprise there. Only my Tchaikovsky is able to do that.
A presence appears behind me and warmth radiates off my back. I whirl around, my breath catching when my eyes clash with Creighton’s chest—that’s covered with a shirt, thank Tchaikovsky.
I pull out an AirPod and breathe harshly. “You scared me.”
“You didn’t wait so we could go back to campus together.” His low, rich voice vibrates through me as he falls in step beside me.
“We never said we’d go back together.”
“Why else would I ask you what you were doing?”
“I don’t know. Making conversation?”
“I don’t talk without purpose.”
Oh, so that’s what this is all about? I mean, yeah, he doesn’t talk, no matter how much I try to push him, but maybe that’s really because he finds no purpose in speaking for the sake of speaking.
“There was a purpose behind all those questions?”
He nods, his dark lashes lowering like a prison against ocean eyes.
“And what was it?” I pull out my second AirPod and place them back in their case, then throw them in my bag.
“Don’t ask Bran to be your fake boyfriend.”
My hand pauses on the zipper before I slowly close it, and my steps falter until I fall behind. My face feels frozen as I stare up at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, I did. Which brings on the question: what makes you think you have the right to tell me what to do?”
He comes to an abrupt halt and I crash against him before I jump back. When he spins around and stares down at me, his face has tightened and his hand is in his pocket again.
