Page 61 of Splintered Hearts

“Huh?”

“That guy who was flirting with you.” She winks, turning to walk up to the teen section. Shaking my head, I look down at the markers, an idea forming. I look at the clock—I still have two hours left. Then I have a plan.

One I hope will get a certain someone to speak to me again.

It’s nearly nine thirty when I walk in the door.

It had been impossible to focus on my book the rest of the night, and I was practically bouncing on my toes waiting for my ride share to pick me up.

I change into a pair of sweats that saysslippery when weton the butt, and throw on a white crop top I got at a party I’d been to. It had been at a queer bar, where one drink led to another and I’d joined a lesbian couple celebrating their upcoming nuptials.

Damn, that was a good time, and they even gave me a souvenir.

I knock on Jamie’s door but there’s no answer.

The light’s on in the kitchen, but Jamie isn’t in there either. The curtain to the sliding door’s open, and I can see a silhouette sitting on one of the chairs. Stepping out onto the porch, I find Jamie sitting with a bowl in his hand and leaning back with his head against the railing. “Oh.” Looking around for somewhere to put it, he shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” he says

“Why are you apologizing?”

Jamie snorts, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Habit, I guess.”

Frowning, I rub my arms. It’s a little cold tonight and Jamie’s nose is red. “When you’re done, I want to talk to you.”

Jamie’s chest rises with the breath he takes. He nods, takes another drag, then places it on the picnic table. Standing, he walks around me to go into the house.

“Give me ten.”

I can hear the shower running as I sit at the kitchen table, making myself an iced coffee and reading some of my book now that my thoughts have calmed slightly. Hearing Jamie’s door click, I wait fifteen minutes before going to find him.

Patience is not my strong suit.

“Jamie?” Listening, I don’t hear anything. “Can we talk please?”

“Yeah.” Opening the door, Jamie’s brow arches as he takes me in. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“What?” Looking down, I inspect my outfit, then turn to look over my shoulder at my ass in theslipperysweats. “What’s wrong with these?” Jamie eyes my shirt flatly before meeting my eyes. “Oh, you mean the shirt?”

Jamie eyes it again, almost smiling before shaking his head.Eat your girl out or I will,it reads in bright pink bubble font. “What? Lesbians know how to party.”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you’ve never eaten a girl out a day in your life.”

I raise my hand a little. “Guilty as charged. But irony is comedy.”

Rolling his eyes, he goes back to his sketchbook, one knee propped against the desk, pen cap in his mouth now. “What do you want?”

I take a couple of steps inside, and Jamie’s pencil pauses above the paper. “What are you drawing?”

Turning the book over so I can’t see, Jamie looks up. “I’m not in the mood right now.” His eyes lift to mine, breaking a little piece of my heart. They’re still red, either from what he smoked or not sleeping. Maybe both. It’s something I’ve noticed this week. Jamie doesn’t sleep much. More often than not I can hear him out in the hall at all hours.

It’s taken every ounce of strength in me to give him space.

Even now, he still looks tired. Wearing a navy blue sweater that’s a little big, Jamie rolls up the sleeve of his forearm, displaying that beautiful snake tattoo. “I got something today. I wanted to show you.”

“Can it wait?” My heart squeezes at the dark bruising under his eyes. What Jamie needs is sleep. An idea springs to my mind.

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