Page 5 of Every Broken Thing

His blue eyes widened, and he made a shushing noise that was supposed to be reassuring. It set my teeth on my edge.

“Whoa, okay. Just take a breath.”

“Stop talking.”

“Silas, you need to—”

“Shut up!”

Ben clenched his jaw, but his voice was even as he said, “You’re safe, okay? It’s over, and you’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Ignoring him, I bent down and grabbed my backpack. I hooked it over my shoulder and scrubbed a hand over my face, fighting the hysteria licking at the back of my brain. When I moved to leave the bathroom, Ben shifted to block my escape.

“Wait, where are you going?”

I reared back, white-knuckling the straps of my bag. “Home.”

“Home?” He stared at me like I’d lost my mind, and my patience waned.

“Did I stutter?” I snapped. “I’m going home. Get the fuck out of my way.”

“We have to call the cops.”

“No, we don’t. I’m fine.”

Gritting my teeth, I shoved past him, making him catch himself on the wall. He called my name, but I didn’t slow. Iwanted nothing to do with him, this strange boy who’d saved me, but as I rushed out the bathroom, gentle fingers circled my wrist to stop me. I knew it wasn’t Eric, but my last thread of sanity snapped. I spun with my fist flying.

The sickeningwhackof my fist meeting his jaw and the following pain crackling its way up my arm were immensely satisfying and almost enough to distract me from the heaving of my stomach brought on by his touch.

The momentum of my hit sent Ben staggering back a few steps, but he righted himself quickly. He touched his mouth, and his fingers came away bloody.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I choked, panic lapping at my neck as it threatened to drag me under.

I was going to lose my shit in three, two, one…

I bolted from the bathroom and fled the school like the building was on fire. My sneakers slapped against the pavement as I sprinted to my truck in the back of the parking lot. I dug my keys out of my pocket and searched for the right one to get it unlocked. But the tremors were back, and I dropped my key ring twice before I could identify the correct key. Not that it mattered; the slot in the door proved unconquerable in my terrified state, and I couldn’t unlock the door.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I gripped my head and swallowed a scream. My hands smelled like Boyt’s cologne and cucumber melon soap, and my stomach heaved.

I abandoned my truck and rushed to the nearest patch of shrubbery, where I proceeded to empty the contents of my stomach viciously into the dirt. I choked and gagged until nothing but burning bile dribbled past my lips. When there was nothing left to purge, I gathered the bitter saliva in my mouth and spat to rid myself of the vile taste.

The air around me shifted, wafting spring soap in my direction, and I stiffened. Seriously?

Red appeared in my line of vision, and though I loathed accepting anything else from him, I snagged the damp cloth drenched in chlorine and wiped my mouth clear of any remaining vomit. When I wordlessly handed it back, Ben replaced the fabric with a bottle of room-temperature water, and I swished the liquid around my mouth before spitting into the bushes again. I did this twice more before I handed the bottle back to his waiting hands.

Managing a few steps, I leaned back against my truck. My legs felt like jelly, my knees weak, and I lowered myself to the ground to collect myself. I curled into a ball, my knees meeting my chest, and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until my vision turned red.

Shoes scraped against pavement, and Ben released a soft sigh as he hunkered down beside me, leaving a few feet of space between us. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. So we sat in silence, the night deepening around us.

The October chill burrowed into my bones, making me shiver, but I ignored the goosebumps. Ben breathed evenly beside me, the cadence oddly comforting. Which annoyed me for some reason. I didn’t want him to comfort me. I didn’t even know him, and he’d just witnessed the most humiliating moment of my life. I felt bare and exposed, like a frayed nerve.

After far too long, I left the safety of my hands to inspect the boy beside me, and I startled to find him staring right at me. Our eyes met, and something unsaid passed between us before I jerked my gaze away, unsettled and confused.

“Has this happened before?” he asked, breaking the stillness, and my defensive sarcasm kicked in along with my temper.

“Why? Wanna join in next time? My schedule is pretty packed this weekend, but I can probably fit you in Monday. Talk to my secretary, Mrs. Kiss My Gay Ass, and she’ll set you up with an appointment.”

His brows flew up at my attitude, but he didn’t respond verbally. He was the picture of forced calm, save for the tightness in his shoulders and tick in his jaw. But his lack of temper cooled mine, and the fire under my skin flickered out as quickly as it had sparked.

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