Page 54 of Paper Thin Love

I wanted a reaction from my father. I got one, just not what I wanted, so I’ll try for another reaction. I’ll topple him from his throne.

Chapter 22

Mila

I was fine with having people watch me when I danced. There was no need for words; I just performed. I was good at performing a role. This, though, school life, well, that wasn’t a role. It was my life. I wasn’t okay with every person gossiping, watching, and judging me as I walked the halls. I couldn’t disappear from this, and I had a feeling if I tried to, Dash would hunt me down and drag me back to his side. I know he needed me for the smaller, private tasks, but there was something else brewing, something neither of us was going to admit. A chemistry, those kisses.

Did he think about them as much as I did?

Am I just a silly, foolish girl playing with the big bad wolf?

Dash didn’t seem to care what others said, or what the gossip mill was churning out, that or he was really good at ignoring people. At least people feared him, even with his broken leg. I was the one who they approached now, who they questioned. Girls cornered me in the bathroom, guys looked at me like I could be their next fuck. It was infuriating.

If I got one more question as to what Dash, Dante, and Cillian were planning, I think I might just poof and explode. It hadn’t even been one full school day and people were coming up with nicknames for the three of them; none worthy of mentioning thus far. Creativity wasn’t people’s strong suit here.

“We have gym next,” I mumble as the final bell rings. I push from my desk, stand, and flex my toes, trying to bring blood back into them. Half the room glances at Dash before he moves to leave. I don’t miss how, when each class ends, half the class waits for him to leave first, and the other half flees from the room in fear. I don’t know which is wiser.

“Actually,” Dash lazily reaches for his crutch, his eyes scanning those who linger in the room with us. He places the crutch on the floor as if he just pulled out Excalibur. It’s powerful, breathless, such a simple, effortless act Dash King has turned into a suspenseful spectacle. His movements are fluid and, okay, I admit it, sexy. Dash is ethereal, god-like, and I can’t stop thinking about him.

I think about that kiss, his harsh words, his fire, his taunts. I can’t stop thinking! A part of me wants to kiss him again and the other part thinks I should run.

I don’t think I’ll listen to her. Most girls don’t. Women have hearts that beat with passion and what’s more passionate than scars? They are filled with memories, and memories are only made by events that are impactful, whether heartbreaking or euphoric. We need a scarred heart in order to live, in order to breathe, be wiser the next time around, or be more numb if we make the same mistake again.

Josh and Ethan, two guys who linger now, hurry, bumping into the row of desks they pass by as they flee the classroom. Those two have been clinging close to Dash, as if he would grant them entry to his newfound lunch table.

“We don’t have gym next,” Dash replies as he places the crutch under his arm.

“Oh.” I do. Why does not seeing him during my next class make me feel…deflated? I should be happy. I get a break from dancing with the devil. I grab my backpack and swing it over my shoulders.“Okay, I’ll see you at dinner then. Remember, I’ll meet you there because I have ballet before.” I begin to turn to the door.

“Little fox,” he purrs. Hearing that ridiculous nickname makes my heart jump. I feel all giddy, like a kid about to do something naughty.“Not so fast.Wedo have class together. It’s just not gym.”

Inhaling deep, I hesitate, then slowly turn to face him. That sly grin he wears so well would make the cast of the Vampire Diaries jealous. It’s so snarky, insanely seductive and…panty-melting.

Why is a dangerous smirk from a bad boy so tempting?

“I have gym.” Oh, lord, what happened to my voice? I sound like a clothespin is pinching my throat closed, allowing only insecurity and pain to squeak out. Reaching up, I grab the straps of my backpack tighter.

Dash shakes his head, his platinum blonde hair reflecting the classroom lights like a shiny sword. He loves the power of knowledge he’s holding over me.

I cross my arms, trying to mask my nerves.

He begins to walk past me confidently. When his shadow covers me, my heart skips a beat. It’s like watching an eclipse, being encased in darkness, with only an eerie light guiding your way. Slowly, he glances over his shoulder.“Come on, you don’t want to be late,” he playfully scolds me.

“Where are we going?” I reply as I hurry to catch up with him.

“Class, obviously.”

“Smartass,” I scold.

Dash snickers, earning a few looks of shock. You’d never expect the devil to laugh freely. I even find myself glancing from left to right, expecting to find a torture scene that caused his laughter.

Dash either has a photographic memory of the school layout or navigates us with sheer luck. We weave through hallways until we reach a new building.

“That’s the Arts building,” I state as he pulls the door open. When I hesitate, he moves his crutch and smacks me in the ass with it. I yelp and glare at him.

“I like to be punctual,” he whispers conspiratorially, his words wrapping around me like a spider spinning its web.“Hurry up.” He nudges his head, and I enter the building.

“Why are we in the Arts building?” I ask, confusion creeping into my voice.

---