Page 49 of Death is My BFF

I gave a mirthless laugh, reciting the only answer I knew. “I’m intimidating.”

He cocked his head with a quizzical look.

“The way I dress at school, the makeup I wear.” He stared at me so intensely as I spoke that a flush crept up my neck. “I’ve been told I’m intimidating.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Who told you that?”

Myself. I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Faith, there is not a single intimidating bone in your body,”

David said with conviction.

“Not even one?”

He closed the distance between us. “At least not any unattractive ones.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re attracted to my bones.”

His eyes smoldered with mischief. Leaning in close, as if to tell me a secret, he whispered, “You know, it’s not what’s on the outside that counts, but I have to think a girl as outwardly mesmerizing as you would have one sexy fibula on the inside.”

“Mesmerizing, huh?” I teased. “You’re making me sound like an enchantress.”

David’s lips arched, his fingers grazing the sides of my jersey. “It would explain the effect you have on me.” My heart raced as our eyes connected in a warm, meaningful moment. His smile fell a little as he slid his hand to the narrow of my waist. My stomach fluttered and I waited with bated breath for him to kiss me.

A phone buzzed on David’s desk, directing his thoughts elsewhere. His expression darkened. Coming around the desk, he read the lit-up screen and enclosed his big hand around the device to turn it off.

He obviously wasn’t taking the call because I was in the room, which made me feel like I was getting in the way of an issue that was troubling him. If I was going to say my piece, it had to be now. I had to remember what was at stake, the danger I could place him in with Death on my tail.

“I want to apologize,” I began, messing with my fingers as I strolled to the front of his desk. “About leaving so suddenly at the carnival and not texting you back.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” He bowed his head a little and leered at me from across the desk, his brown eyes two dreamy elixirs tempting me closer. “Unless you’ve come here to deepen my wounded pride?”

Actually, yes! I came here to tell you I want to be friends!

“David, I need you to know—”

“How’s your head anyway?” he asked at the same time.

My eyes widened. “My head?”

David turned a paper over on his desk to read it. “You said something about your head hurting before you left the carnival?”

“I did? I thought I told you I was nauseous?”

“You were nauseous?”

“Yes,” I said, with a shallow inhale. “I told you I was nauseous.”

How would he know about my head?

“Oh, right.” He picked at a button on the cuff of his dress shirt.

“You were touching your head before you left. I thought you might have a migraine. I get them occasionally.”

I vaguely remembered touching my head in his presence, but it wasn’t enough to shake the awful feeling brewing inside of me.

Flattening his palms against his desk, David parted his mouth to speak, when suddenly, his head slanted to the side, like an animal hearing a sharp noise. His eyes narrowed as he darted his gaze to the right, to the massive windows.

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