Page 20 of Splintered Hearts

His jaw clenches. “I just want to hang out with Hunter’s friends, okay? Can we just do that?”

“Fine. But let me talk to people. Stop momming me. I’ll be fine.” Maybe. I wasn’t kidding, though. My body’s humming, and I feel more alive than I have all week. Whatever. I’ll be a good little boy and listen to my friend.

Probably.

Maybe.

We’ll see.

Six

Jamie

I need a smoke.

Bri didn’t bring me any, either on purpose for being a dick to her this morning when I asked—fair—or because she’s getting tired of helping me out.

Also fair.

I watch the crowd around me, just wanting this to end. Drinking was never my thing, but here I am, perched on top of my deck railing, nursing a fucking White Claw. I hate beer—the smell, the taste, everything. So does Bri, and while she didn’t bring me weed, she brought drinks she could stomach.

And I’m stealing one.

Hunter and Xavi laugh with their friends. I’m happy they’re having a good time, and I’m definitely not watching to make sure they use my coasters. My fingers twitch to clean up the empties. I put out extra wastebaskets for a damn reason.

Everything’s too noisy.

My chest aches and I rub it, easing the tension in my lungs, then take another sip, just begging for this weak shit to calm some of the noise, maybe even help me enjoy it. I just need to relax.

I could grab my sketchbook.

I push that thought aside for now. It’s not that I don’t want to—I really do. My problem is that nothing happens when I put a pencil or pen on paper. My mind goes blank. It’s like there’s thisvoid in my brain where creativity used to be. It’s like...

It's like my talent died the same night she did.

My brain’s bullshit, my body’s trash, and I just need something inside me to work right for once. I just need a place to start. A cloud. A bird. Hell, I could draw Brianna. She’d be a willing model. I’d make her a sci-fi alien, and she would love that shit. Her makeup is always incredible—putting that on paper would be cool.

Maybe I’ll ask her later.

After I apologize.

Painting one of my four black walls white is the closest I’ve been to art supplies in nearly five years.

My fingers pause with my drink at my lips, watching Mark’s friend step onto the porch with the menace himself behind him.Fucking hell. When I’d seen them all standing together in my living room I was confused, then stunned.

Then freaked out a little. Just a little.

Bri beams in his direction, no doubt excited for another victim she can strap to a chair and experiment on. Mark is talking, and so is Bri, but my attention is all on him.

Noah.

What Hunter failed to mention in all his bitching about the guy was that he looks like a fairy-garden prince straight from a fantasy movie. He’s white, dark brown hair that looks messy but in a way that’s on purpose. Fuck, I bet it feels so soft. The pink sweater he’s wearing hugs all the right places and looks so good against his pale skin. My eyes travel down, seeing a sliver of belly. He’s a little shorter than Hunter and wears glasses.

Xavier says something, and it makes his soft pink mouth break out into a laugh that lights me up from the inside. Something spiders across my chest, the tightness I felt earlier gone. Noah turns to Mark and I can’t help looking down. Those jeans he’s wearing mold to his ass and thighs in a way that should be illegal—or at the very least, come with a caution sign.

Warning: contents may cause extreme boners and drooling.

Just beautiful.

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