Page 10 of Heart of Thorns

I’m not asking him nicely.

We’ve had a total of two conversations, and I already know he’s an arrogant jock like the rest of the guys at this party.

I glance to the thin opening on his right.

I’m small. I can squeeze right past him, dragging my bum leg along with me.

As soon as I take a step, he does the same.

We look like we’re dancing, and my irritation grows by the second. My pulse skyrockets, and my heart is like thunder claps.

I growl. “Get out of my way.”

Thorne smiles wider. Does he think I’m flirting with him? Before I became a fearful little mouse, I probably would have. Jocks are all I used to date, and fine, he’shot.He’s got this sexy yet golden-boy vibe to him. Edgy features, tight muscles, panty-dropping smile, and warm, golden-brown eyes, but I’m in no mood to flirt with a guy like him. His hair must be a paid actor, the way a slightly curled lock falls perfectly in the middle of his forehead.

“Seriously?” I stress. “Get out of my way.”

I don’t give him time to dodge me. I plow forward, desperate to get out of the stuffy party and crowded room.

He steps backward, and I shoulder check him by accident—though he probably thinks it’s on purpose.

“Oof,” I cringe with the sudden jerk.

Pain rushes my knee, and suddenly, Thorne’s arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me in place. His palm slips under my shirt, and we’re skin on skin.

I silently gasp. He freezes.

The contact shocks my system, and when I meet his gaze, his eyes are as wide as mine.

He lets me go a second later, and the cool night air coats my flushed skin.

My shoes spin on the creaky porch, and I face him. He’s standing inside the threshold of the party, staring at melike this entire interaction was my fault or something. If he would have obliged, this wouldn’t have happened.

His eyes narrow. “You’rewelcome…”

I stand outside, no longer surrounded by the heat of mingling bodies. My confidence grows. I cross my arms and pop a hip, ignoring the dull ache in my leg. “Excuse me?”

There it is again.

That stupid smirk.

He stares at me for too long. My pulse races, and I’m jittery.

“You’re an angry little thing, aren’t you? How curious.”

His grin deepens, and my stomach flips.

It shocks me so much that by the time I let my anger take over, Thorne’s back is to me and he’s wrapping his arm around some blonde’s tiny waist.

My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and at the last second, I flip him offagain,even though he can’t see me.

I’m not sure if I’m more angry because I gave in to my anxiety and left the party in a haste, or if because for the first time since the accident, I felt something that resembled the old Briar who had a zest for life and a craving for somethingmore.

Either way, the old Briar is dead. And she’s not coming back.

CHAPTER 4

THORNE

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