Page 49 of The Lies We Steal

So I’d slipped my clothes on over my damp bathing suit, planning to run all the way back to the dorms before I slipped beneath the hot water that would soothe my muscles. I shivered at the prospect as I pushed the door open from the pool hall starting my walk across campus.

The wind bites at my skin harshly, goosebumps appearing automatically. My feet rushed across the grounds covering as much ground as I possibly could with my speed walking. I could see the light escaping from the top window of my dorm hall door, almost to safety when a different cold chill fell upon my shoulders.

I’d felt it too late, the presence of someone behind me. The sun was gone, I was all alone, and the urge to scream bubbled in my stomach. I quickly turned around, prepared to see what I always do, nothing.

He doesn’t let me see him. He just stays long enough for me to know he’s watching.

I am prepared though. I’m ready.

I ball my fist up, spinning around on my heels when I feel him close in on my body,

“Br—” I hear the beginning of my name from his mouth only a second before I slug my fist upward hoping I make contact with something on his face.

My knuckles instantly throb, my face flashing hot when I see a swoosh of golden strung hair.

Oh God.

“What the fuck!” Easton hisses, holding his jaw where I’d thrown the best right hook of my life. Ronda Rousey would be proud.

My heart beats rapidly, nerves and the quick come down from being frightened is a rush to my head. I place my hands over my mouth,

“Oh my shit. Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I mumble.

He turns his head to face me, still holding his face, rubbing the red area on his cheek bone.

“Damn girl. Wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.” He jokes through the pain and I laugh nervously.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just, I thought you were—” I freeze, thinking it’s best not to finish that sentence the way I wanted to.

“Thought I was…? A mugger?”

“Something like that, are you okay?” I ask worried, I feel like I’d just punched a guy who relies on his face more than most. Taking breaths, trying to calm myself down.

“I’ll survive. Better question, are you okay? You looked seriously spooked.”

I run my hands down my face anxiously, sighing, “I’m tired is all. Haven’t been sleeping well, my head is all over the place.”

He nods in understanding, the redness growing, and I know it’ll bruise by morning. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I broke my knuckle.” I raise my hand so he can see the already swollen joint.

With ease, he grabs my hand, not giving me enough time to even flinch. Lowering his eyes to exam my knuckles. His thumb brushes over the sensitive skin and I wince slightly.

“I think you might have broken it; do you want me to go grab you some ice?” He breathes his words onto my hand, his lips closer than they need to be. I can feel the warmth of his skin near my own, quickly retracting my hand.

I’ve stolen a lot of things.

A blender, a TV, a watch, I even stole batteries out of remotes.

Boyfriends isn’t one of the things I plan on adding to the list.

“I’ll be okay, just a little scratch is all. You can just tell Mary the other guy looks worse than you do tomorrow.” I slide in, smiling softly.

“Yeah,” He nods, scratching the back of his neck in a boyish way, “I’ll try that. It’s all good though, I shouldn’t have run up on you like that, I think everyone is a little freaked out right now.”

There it is again.

The panic.

“What for?” I ask the question I’m positive I know the answer to.

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