Page 29 of Our Secrets and Scars

“What?”

“Owen’s in this class, isn’t he?” He nods his head toward the door leading to the lecture hall behind me.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I need you to be my bodyguard.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’d be much more comfortable if I walked you home.”

“And if I don’t want you to?” He cocks an arrogant brow. “Right, silly me. I don’t get a choice, do I?”

“You’re learning, little one.” He smirks. “See you in an hour.”

With that, he drops a chaste kiss to my forehead and nudges me in the direction of the lecture hall. And thoughIntroduction to Law and Public Policyis usually one of my favorite classes, I spend the entire hour thinking over Holden’s words and wondering why, despite them all, I still find myself imagining what it would be like if he kissed me.

Six

Kinsley

Justlikehepromised,Holden is waiting for me when class is dismissed an hour later. He’s leaning against the wall, one foot propped up against it, and he looks so effortlessly cool that it’s hard to believe it’s me he’s waiting for.

He’s only doing it out of some weird sense of duty,I remind myself.It’s nothing more than that.He made that perfectly clear in our conversation earlier.

And though we don’t really know each other at all, my stomach still knots every time I think about how he’s got feelings for another woman. It doesn’t matter that I’ve got feelings for another man, jealousy still burns hot and furious inside me. And yeah, I know that makes me a hypocrite, but I can’t help the way I feel.

I can’t help but wish he’d say fuck it to being fair and just kiss me anyway. Maybe that makes me pathetic, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve been so starved of male attention since the incident that I cling to even the smallest of positive interactions.

That’s probably why my stomach flips at the sight of him. The way he smirks at me as his eyes fall upon my face and how he pushes off the wall to walk to me, everything makes me want to giggle like a schoolgirl. I don’t, though. By the grace of God, I manage to swallow it down and plaster the most casual expression I can muster onto my face.

But the way he looks at me, it’s like he can see straight through me.

“Hey,” I whisper when he stops a foot from my body.

“Hi.” He grins down at me, ignoring the grumbles we’re getting from other students for blocking the way as they filter out of class.

Owen passes us, muttering something under his breath, but neither of us pay him any mind.

“You ready?”

I nod, and he holds his arm out for me to slip my hand through. I don’t though. I may have thoughts of desperation, but I can’t let myself act on them. I’ve embarrassed myself enough around him as it is.

He frowns as I ignore the gesture but otherwise doesn’t react. Instead, he shoves his hands back into his pocket and walks toward the building’s exit. I fall into step beside him, just as he knew I would, and try to ignore the awkwardness of the silence stretching between us.

After five or so minutes, it becomes too much to bear.

“Hey, Holden?” I say quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Think you just did, little one.”

I roll my eyes. “The drawing of the girl I saw at the shop, the one you’ve got tattooed on you. Is it of the girl you’re trying to get over?”

His brows pull tight as he sucks in a breath. I hear the sharpness of his inhale and the tremble in the air as he blows it back out again. For whatever reason, my question has unnerved him. It only makes me all the more desperate to know the answer.

“Kind of.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” He rubs his jaw with his hand. “It’s not a portrait of her exactly, but a representation of the way I think about her, I guess.”

“With cracks?” I ask, remembering the image of the girl, perfect except for the several fractures he’d drawn into her face.

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