Page 17

“Yeah.” I laugh. “Me, too.”

She smiles shyly and seeing that small smile makes my angry heart melt a little. I scoot closer to her. She has nowhere to go; the shadows are swallowing her whole and again, she visibly panics by my slight movement.

No wonder she’s frightened; I just got into a fight with metal and lost. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I tell her. “Despite what you just saw, I’m really not a violent guy.”

That eases her apprehension and her shoulders relax. “Are you going to hurt that bleacher again?” she teases.

I shrug, biting my lip. “I’ll apologize if that makes you feel better and talk to me.”

She can’t hide the smile that slips out of her. “I’d like that. I don’t think it did anything to you.” I move even closer, and she flicks her gaze up at me. This girl’s been the talk of the town for the last few days, and no one knows anything about her.

Superstitious freaks.

I keep my gaze fixed on her and smirk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bleacher…even though you’re the one who broke my hand.”

She giggles and hell, if it’s not the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.

“Is that better?” I ask her, scratching the back of my neck. She’s not the only one nervous.

She nods and finally moves back into the ray of light so I can see her. Every day she’s worn the same ivory dress. Girls like Cindy snicker, but she looks elegant.

Timeless, like she doesn’t really belong here. Misunderstood.

I reach my hand out to her. “Do you, uh…want to eat lunch with me?”

Pausing, she gently takes my hand in hers and crawls to me filling the space between us. I love the feel of her small, velvety hands against mine, until a sudden, sharp pain in my arm makes me wince.

Her eyes widen, and she pulls away. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

I grimace until the pain subsides a bit. “Yeah, I might have sprained it.”

I use my other hand and pull at her waist, just above her hip bone, which causes her to wince and scramble backwards.

Damn. She’s skittish.

I shift uncomfortably. “What’s wrong?”

She sucks in a long breath. “Nothing. Just…please don’t touch me.”

I lift my hands. “Okay… I promise I won’t touch you again.”

I’m backtracking, badly. I want to see her smile again, but I’m freaking her out.

I stare at her for a few seconds. Now that I’ve seen her up close, I can’t unsee her. I can’t stop looking at her.

“What are you looking at?” she asks me, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you before.”

Her lips tremble. “I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.”

Damn, Tommy. Now you made her cry.

I divert my gaze, suddenly feeling like a piece of shit for getting in her space. My stomach growls, so I grab my sandwich, and when I glance back up again, she’s staring at me. Or rather, she’s staring at my food.

I arch my brows softly. “Are you hungry?”

She nods quickly, too quickly, and it breaks my heart. It doesn’t seem like she eats much. I hand her half of my sandwich. I’d give her the whole damn thing if I didn’t just run for an hour straight.