Page 51 of Paper Thin Love

“I like you,” Cillian replies. Dash shifts in his seat, and I don’t miss how Cillian’s eyes shift to Dash’s.

“I mean, you’re a cool chick. You’re different from the others here.”

“How so?” I challenge him as I take a smaller bite of my eggs.

“I know you feel broken. Fuck, we all do. That’s their plan. Break us so they can reshape us. But there is still light in your eyes, Mila. Every other chick here is dead. They hook up to feel and play games to think they have a purpose. But their eyes,” he reaches for a sausage link with his fingers and shoves the whole piece into his mouth,“well, their eyes are dead as fuck. No light, not even darkness. Try not to lose your light, Mila.”

“Is this breakfast or a therapy session?” Dash grunts; his irritation feels like static clinging to the air, waiting to jolt you.

Cillian’s words remind me not to judge a book by its cover. You’d think a huge, muscular guy like Cillian would be dumb or thick-headed, but he might be the most in tune with his intuition and emotions.

“Tell me about my classes,” Dash barks.

Slowly, I mumble about the current topics we’re learning, but in the back of my mind, I keep considering what Cillian just said. A warm hand stirs under the table and grabs mine. I choke in surprise. Dash grabs my index finger and slides his thumb under it. Looking down, I see the bright red mark my nail left behind. I had been digging my index finger into the nail of my thumb without realizing it.

“I thought your heart died a long time ago,” I voice, studying his fingers wrapped around mine. He’s trying to fix me again.

“You don’t have to have a heart to care,” Dash states coldly, his tone a stark contrast to the intimate gesture. His expression remains stoic, a fortress of indifference guarding his true emotions.“You have to have acause.” He admits.

I lift my eyes to meet his, desperately seeking any indication of affection or vulnerability. All I see is a stone wall. I swallow hard, my voice trembling as I ask,“What’s your cause for helping me?”

He meets my gaze, his eyes like ice.“Survival,” he reply is devoid of emotion.

“I think you could survive without me.”

“I was referring toyoursurvival.”

There’s that knife cutting into my flesh. A blade that says it cares about you, yet hurts you at the same time.

Why do you want me to survive, Dash?Of course, I’m wise enough not to ask something he won’t honestly answer.

His words cut deep, the coldness in his voice a reminder of the walls he’s built around his heart.

Dash leans closer, and a flutter sensation takes off in my core when I feel his lips brush the shell of my ear.“I’m the only one who gets to hurt you, little fox,” he whispers. He grabs my thumb.“Consider this your homework. Tonight, I want to see what you created with your art supplies.” He pulls away. My lips part as I tip my head up to look at my devil in the eyes, only now he looks more like the fallen angel I dreamed about last night—caring yet tainted.

“I won’t have time,” I sigh.“I dance in the morning, go to class, and after class, I have one hour free before dancing again. During that time, I fit in studying or doing homework. Then I dance till dinner, only taking a short hour’s break. Then it’s two more hours of dance. By the time I shower and get back to the dorms, I get one more hour to do school work before my eyes protest and seal shut on me.”

Dash’s eyes narrow.“You’ll make time to fix yourself, Mila. That or I will make it for you,” he warns.

“Mila? Mila!” a new voice shouts. I hear it clearly, but I’m still trapped in the poisonous fog that Dash King emits. I can’t look away from him. I want Dash to tell me more, but that’s like asking the devil to tell you his intentions.

What are you, Dash King, my devil or savior? Is it possible to be both?

“Mila!” The new voice is more urgent, followed by two steps up the dais to reach me. Dash, Dante, and Cillian look, and I realize the cafeteria is silent. I finally look and see Jared. He’s here, and he’s…pissed off. Angry eyes pin me down.

Cillian places his elbows on the wooden table. He’s so muscular it creaks under his weight.“Did we give you permission to come closer?” Cillian bellows.

I see Jared’s mistake now. He’s stepped up to the platform where our table is. No one is crazy enough to invade Dante and Cillian’s table. Except Dash, but he knew Dante and Cillian. Jared doesn’t.

I stand suddenly.“Jared.” I don’t want this to escalate.“What are you doing?” I hiss. I glance at his feet, which were foolish to take the two steps up the stairs.

“What areyoudoing?” Jared fires back.“We have practice.”

“I’m…I’m coming. I was just having breakfast.” I don’t miss the way Jared’s eyes shift to Dash’s. His challenge is clear as glass.You fool, Jared. You stupid, brave fool.

I turn to Dash, who looks like he’s mentally imagining how he’s going to skin Jared alive. I inhale sharply, as the corner of Dash’s full lips tugging in delight.

Cillian is holding his fork and knife, continuing to eat, but his eyes send a chill down my spine. Dante, well, he’s the patient one. They are usually the most dangerous. His eyes flicker from Dash to Jared as he waits for a show that is about to begin.

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