AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“For a girl or for my own good?”
“You’re too smart for your age. But that’s a good thing. If you use your brain the right way, you’ll go places.”
I pause, my nails subconsciously easing off his hand. That’s the first time someone has praised my brain without sounding condescending or full of pity. Even my teacher said being too smart is not a good thing for a woman on our side of the ghetto.
Aunt Sharon said it’ll get me killed.
And yet, this stranger, a boy in nothing more than a mask, said the words I’ve been longing to hear from someone.
Anyone.
As long as they believe in me. As long as someone out there wants to see past my origins and into my actual soul.
But then again, he doesn’t know where I come from, so maybe he’ll change his mind once he figures out my zip code.
“And how do you know that?” I ask, feeling a bit sober all of a sudden.
“I just do. Now, for that honesty policy. Care to take part in it?”
“Offer me something first.”
“Like?”
“Why did you take me—or, more accurately,kidnapme?”
“You heard a detail you shouldn’t have been privy to.”
“If you were so concerned about the arson or whatever your friends were plotting, you would’ve ratted me out or stayed to take part in the action. You definitely wouldn’t have chosen to promenade me like in some medieval time.”
His chuckle echoes in the air like the most haunting piece of music. And the worst part is that I can’t stop being drawn to it. I can’t stop staring at him and his height and broad shoulders.
“True on all accounts. The reason I took you, orkidnappedyou as you prefer to label it, is as I previously mentioned, I’m bored and you’re interesting. In a nerdy kind of way, which is unusual for me. I only like girls’ bodies and have zero interest in their minds.”
“You’re a misogynistic pig.”
“And you’re a fan of labels. But I like your sense of intuition. It’s a fucking turn-on.”
My stomach cramps and I don’t understand the emotions that slash through it at the same time or how my temperature rises despite the cold.
He stops and my eyes widen when I expect him to do something. Instead, he picks a wide wool scarf from a vendor on the street, throws the man who sells them a one-hundred-dollar bill, then releases my hand to wrap the scarf around my neck and arms.
I stare up at him, dumbfounded.
“You might want to stop looking at me as if I’m the holy messiah. There’s nothing remotely sin-free about me.”
“Why did you buy me this?”
“Because judging by your chattering teeth and trembling limbs, you’re cold. This happens to be an easy fix.”
“I don’t want to owe you.”
“You don’t. Consider it compensation for kidnapping you.” His voice becomes amused at the last part.
And I can’t help the feeling of internal and external warmth that floods me.
He interlinks our fingers again and continues walking. We remain silent for a while, and I find myself too focused on his touch, his warmth, his fingers that stroke mine, then stop and start again in a chaotic yet soothing rhythm.
I pull the scarf tighter around me to hide my creepy attempt to breathe more of him in. It’s the first time I’ve found male cologne so…enticing.
