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“I didn’t ask.” My turn to smirk.
“You didn’t need to.”
“Thanks, Denton,” I say again, turning toward the bus and watching the kids pile in. “I’m Brianna.”
“You better get going then, kitten,” He nods to the bus.
I make a dash for the bus and make it just as the door is closing. I take my seat and look in Denton’s direction. He’s waving at me. A flush creeps up my face as I look forward, pretending not to see him.
“I want you to see me,
Standing here on the edge,
Fading like a wallflower,
Baby, talk me off of this ledge.
I want you to make me whole,
Blend my colors,
See my soul.”
“That’s pretty but so fucking sad.” Denton takes a seat on the ground next to me. My face heats, and I stop playing my guitar. I do not do well with live audiences.
“You shouldn’t have just been standing there listening. It’s rude.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a free country, kitten.”
He’s still calling me that then. I grab his jacket, shoving it against his chest.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
I roll my eyes.
“Seriously,” he insists. “Are you planning on singing after you graduate?”
“No way. I am more of the words behind the voice kind of artist.”
“A shame,” he reaches out and twists one of my curls around his finger.
I frown. “You can’t do that!” I swat away his hand.
“Why?”
“Because it’s rude. You can’t just touch my hair,” I say, packing up my sheets.
“I’ve always wondered what it felt like, that’s all.” He has that stupid unlit cigarette in his mouth again. I reach out and pull it from him, flinging it on the ground.
“How do you like that, huh?” I grin.
“It was worth it,” his gaze meets mine, endless pools of black.
Clearing my throat, I stand, dusting off my pants. “I got to get to class.”
He stares up at me with that smirk again. “See you later, kitten.”
“I am not your kitten, Denton,” I say through gritted teeth.
