Page 3 of The Masks We Break

So when he finally noticed me, actuallylookedat me, I wasted no time handing him my soul.

His long-awaited response?

Well...he took my frail little heart in the palm of his hand, inspected it, and found it wanting.

Three years ago.

“Where is the dang book?” I rummage through my locker yet again but to no avail. It’s the third in a vampire series, and the heroine is finally about to choose her guy. Three flipping books I’ve had to wait, and now I can’t find where I put it.

“You alright down there?”

The deep voice pierces into me, and I jolt upright, narrowly missing sideswiping the corner of my face on the locker. I turn on my heels, pressing my back into the cool metal, secretly hoping I can use it as an excuse for the shock on my face.

My gaze connects with one dark blue and one storm gray eye. They remind me of the pretty marbles my bà ngo?i would bring me when I was younger. She kept them in a velvet bag and would tell me stories about each of them. When she turned one toward the light, it illuminated the entire thing like a star in the galaxy.

Yeah... that’s what looking into Blaze Bardot’s eyes is like. And as if I’m really in space, I find the air thinner when he’s near. It’s harder to breathe or concentrate. There’s only him and those dang eyes.

Blaze clears his throat, tilting his perfect head to the side. “Well, puppet?”

My eyes narrow at the name, but part of me is too enthralled with his presence to care. “Ju-ust looking for a book.”

“Hmm.” He nods slowly as if I’ve given him a valuable piece of information. “I see.”

See what exactly?

My brows pull together, and I draw my notebooks closer to my chest. Heat begins swirling low in my belly, my breaths coming quicker as he continues to peruse the features of my face. His ability to comfortably examine me while I fidget under his gaze is unsettling.

The corner of his lips twitch, and somehow I know he’s read my mind. “I hope you find your book.”

Then he lifts his hand, tucking a stray hair of mine behind my ear. I suck in a sharp breath as his fingertip grazes the shell, sprouting goose bumps along my arm. All the nerves I have ignite, scorching every other sense into oblivion. When I think I might actually black out, his hand falls to his side as he takes a step back.

“See you around. Maybe at my game Friday.”

My mouth pops open twice to respond, but nothing comes out as he turns to walk down the hall. And it’s only when he’s lost in the cluster of other students that the noises of them refill my ears.

For two brief seconds, I was in a bubble with the guy of my dreams.

And in that little time, I was all he seemed to see.

“What did he say?” My best friend, Spencer, leans into my locker, mere inches from where Blaze just stood. He brushes his messy dark hair to the side and adjusts his glasses.

The heat I was feeling before has crept into my face, pooling on my cheeks.

We’ve been friends for a few months now, but being in nearly every class together, plus working with each other, has brought us closer in that small amount of time. Still, I don’t want to talk about Blaze quite yet. Spencer has made it pretty clear he’s not a fan of the guy. I shake my head and hope my lucky stars he drops it.

Thankfully he does.

And soon enough, he starts droning on about the queen of Emerald Falls, his ex-best friend, and a new way she’s made his life miserable. I do my best to listen, nod when needed, and give advice when asked.

But no matter what I do, all I could think about are those marble eyes.

Present

Blaze’s gaze is still locked on me, holding me in place as he reads me like an open book. The irony isn’t lost; in fact, it’s almost poetic justice. He’s always had the ability to look through people like we’re all windows, while he has the exterior of a brick wall.

His beautiful face remains impassive, his blue eye shimmering under the low lights. But he hasn’t moved, and it pulls at something in my chest.

The thought that maybe he’s happy to see me expands in my ribcage, filling me with the misplaced bittersweet sense of hope. My feet shuffle of their own accord, and I think of taking one step forward. Just a little one.

---