Page 20 of Burn

Navaeh hits my back again before turning to Zoe and saying, “He says the most incredible things to me. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ ‘I love you,’ and ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone.’” The dreamy look from yesterday is back in her eyes, “I think we’re the real deal, ya know?”

Zoe nods enthusiastically as she listens. I listen along quietly, but I have so many questions that I can’t ask. Do they use condoms? Is she on birth control? Do her parents know they’re dating? Story’s head shoots up, her eyes narrow, and she takes care of one of the questions for me.

“Navaeh, you’re going to be a teenage mom if you don’t smarten the fuck up,” she spits, no attempt to conceal her vitriol.

Navaeh slowly turns to face her, placing her hands palm down on the table and leaning toward Story. “Are you jealous, Store? Do you wish he would fuck you with his huge cock? Does it eat you alive that he likes me and not you?”

My mouth drops open for the briefest second before I hear Aaron’s voice in my head,“There you go again, inviting my dick into that mouth.”The memory hits like a brick, and I snap my mouth closed. I shift my eyes from Story to Navaeh and back. They sit silently for what feels like an eternity and I’m desperate to break the silence, to say something to Story. That was so needlessly cruel.

Navaeh clicks her tongue and swipes it across her teeth. “Awe, what Store?” Her tone makes my skin crawl. It reminds me so much of my mother when the demons that haunt her take control. “Are you gonna cry?”

My stomach drops, and I can’t look away from Story’s face. She pushes her chin up; I can see how hard she’s fighting to be strong. She opens her mouth to speak, and her chin wobbles. She’s about to crack. I see it, and Navaeh sees it. She tips her head back and barks out the evilest laugh I’ve ever heard. I flinch at the sound, and Story stands and runs. I hear Zoe’s chuckles. Her voice, which had sounded like a song, now sounds like the sharp end of a blade, cutting, sharp, and serrated.

My heartbeat surges, and the thunder shuts out the noise around us. My eyes sweep around the room, moving face to face to see if anyone else caught that exchange. No one else pays us any attention. I quickly flick my gaze toward the door, looking for Story, but she’s long gone. She’s a nasty bitch, but she didn’t deserve that. Navaeh and Zoe resume their conversation, and my eyes land on a small girl with brown hair, her head buried inWhite Oleander.She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger and tilts her head back and forth as she scans the pages.

Today, she wears an oversized hoodie. It’s well-loved, but the cuffs are tattered. Like last week, she’s alone and seems oblivious to the whirlwind of people around her. Again, I find myself smiling. She looks like a life raft in the middle of an ocean — like someone safe. Two bodies slamming into our table draw my attention back to the people beside me. Tristan lowers himself to the seat where Story sat, picking up her fork and spearing pieces of her salad.

“It looks like you did a number on poor Story,” he says between bites. “She should try out for the team; she can really move.”

Navaeh scoffs, “Yeah, well, she’s jealous that we’re together, and I’ve had enough.”

He nods, munching away. I look at the guy next to him, still standing. He’s slightly shorter, has long reddish hair that peeks out from his baseball cap, and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. His arms are folded across his chest, and his gaze is fixed on Zoe. She acts as if he’s not even there. Tristan reaches for the other guy’s shirt, tugging on the sleeve.

“Sean, sit down, will you, fuck.” The hunks of lettuce muffle his words. Sean obliges, and Tristan continues, “Zoe, when yougonna give my guy a shot? He’s unbearable. Please, if you won’t do it for him, do it for me. I’ll owe you one.”

Sean elbows him hard in the ribs but doesn’t take his eyes away from Zoe. In return, she doesn’t look at Sean. Her eyes flick to Tristan, and that sweet, melodic voice is back when she says, “Tristan, you know I havenointerest in jocks. I am flattered, really, I am, but it is just not happening.”

The way she speaks is so different from that of Navaeh or Tristan. They blend their words, dropping letters occasionally, but Zoe pronounces every single letter as if her goal is to say as many syllables as possible. I think I hear the slightest hint of an accent, and I want to ask her where she’s from, but my insecurity warns me I may be hearing things. Don’t make a fool of yourself.

“Hey,” a firm voice grabs my attention, and I look at Tristan, who’s staring directly at me.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling my cheeks flush. He has a spot of salad dressing on the side of his mouth. His full lips glisten, and his tongue darts out, licking at the sauce. It shouldn’t be so hot. It’s fucking salad dressing, but fuck. His face is covered with stubble. Boys in my grade don’t have this kind of facial hair. They have hints of facial hair, most of it blonde and fine. This is intensely masculine. His dirty blonde hair falls around his forehead and into his brown eyes. He might be the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.

“Easy, Morgan,” Navaeh’s cruel tone is back and directed at me, “Do we need to get you a bib?”

I was staring.

I was staring at Navaeh’s boyfriend.

Damn.

“Come on, Vaeh,” Tristan says, shocking me with his tone. “You’ve already scared one friend off today. Play nice with this one.”

I stumble over my words, “Oh… no… it’s… I’m…”

“She’s working on her TED Talk, clearly,” Navaeh mocks.

Tristan shifts, his hand coming toward me, “I’m Tristan, and this love-sick puppy dog is Sean.” He elbows the redhead next to him again. “Sean, say hi to…” He pauses, waiting for me to reply.

“Morgan. Hi, I’m Morgan,” I say, shaking his hand.

His hand consumes mine, huge, strong, and so warm. Something sparks in my belly, and it travels down my pants, creating a pulsing sensation that makes my blush deepen.

Why does this happen when he’s around?

They can’t tell I feel like this, right?

We must hold on to the grasp a little too long because Navaeh’s tone is sharp: “Please, keep holding hands.”

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