Page 33 of What Is Love
“All right.” He unfolded his arms, and his tattooed fingers grabbed the end of a curled tendril of my hair. He rubbed the golden blonde strands between his thumb and forefinger before bringing them up close to his face. The inhale he took raised the temperature in that space between the stacks. “Your hair smells like peaches and flowers.”
“Peach and honeysuckle.” It was the scent of my shampoo.
He curled the end of the tendril around two fingers as his eyes traveled up toward mine. But something caught them first and his gaze stopped at my neck. His brow furrowed and with his other hand he pushed the other side of my hair back over my shoulder. “Is this from when the box fell on you?”
My bruises were really dark today and I was still waiting for the good concealer to arrive. There was only so much the makeup I had on hand could do.
I quickly reached up to cover the side of my neck that was peeking out above my collar and stepped away from him. “Yeah. Isn’t it ugly?”
“It looks like you have bruises on both sides of your neck.” I could see the gears turning behind his eyes and I worried what he’d assume.
“I know,” I said like it wasn’t a big deal. “When I was trying to get the box down, it tipped. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my freshman yearbook was sitting on top of it. It slid off and dinged me on one side of my neck, which made me jerk and pull the box down on me. It’s not my proudest moment, but I’ve always been a klutz.”
His frown didn’t go away.
Panic was building in my chest. I couldn’t let it show. I had to continue to act as if it was truly nothing. “I better check outmy book.” I held upSo This Is Lovefor him to see. “We’ll see if it helps.”
His frown eased a little. “Where will you go now that you’ve found your book?” He pulled a book out from a shelf slightly before pushing it back into place. “Back to him?” Annoyance laced his tone.
I stared down at the paperback in my hands and whispered, “I don’t want to.”
He didn’t say anything right away and it made me look at him. He tilted his head toward the front of the library. “Go check out your book.”
I left to do just that. As Lemon helped me check out, she commented, “You managed to find one of the few spicy ones we have. This is a good one. Hopefully we run into each other again and you can tell me what you think of it.”
“I’m sure we will,” I said before heading for the exit.
Just before leaving, I glanced back looking for Roe. When I didn’t see him anywhere, I felt disappointed.
As I walked out, I debated whether or not I should go to the nurse to hide out for the rest of lunch. Just as the library door closed behind me, a hand grasped mine and I was pulled to the left. I was startled at first, thinking it was Brandon. Then I saw tattooed fingers covering mine. As my eyes made their way up, meeting stormy blue ones, the disappointment and fear that had control of me quickly washed away.
He led me down a vacant hallway in the opposite direction of the school’s cafeteria. His hand had yet to release mine. It wasn’t soft like Brandon’s. I could feel calluses and his fingers were long. The tops of his hands weren’t completely covered. He had a bird with its wings out as if it were mid-flight. It took up the space on his hand above his thumb and forefinger. He had the wordsBe Freewritten down the side of his forefinger. One half of a butterfly wing was on his middle finger, and the otherhalf was on his ring finger. Along the outside edge of his hand and down the side of his pinkie, he had something else written in cursive I couldn’t make out. None of them had color. Just dark ink on light skin. The contrast reminded me so much of charcoal on white paper.
I curled my fingers, holding his hand back.
He glanced at me. I was prepared for him to pull away. He didn’t. Instead, he led me down another vacant hall. We only got halfway down it when we heard voices. He stopped us to listen and then quickly dashed into an alcove that framed a door to an empty biology class. He pushed me up against the door and pressed his front against mine, hiding us from view. His arms framed my head. I tilted it back so I could see his face. He was already staring down at me. Each inhale I took pushed my breasts against him more. For a split second, I thought about holding my breath, but for some reason I forgot how to do that. I forgot a lot of things. All I could think about was him. His smell. The firmness of his chest.
He was giving me that rush again. My whole body was buzzing with the feel of it.
The voices grew louder and closer. It sounded like a group of girls. Not that it mattered. The reason to care about them was just another thing I forgot. As we continued to stare at each other, I just wanted to know if he was as affected as I was. I couldn’t tell. Apart from his tight jaw, his face was schooled.
“Roe,” I breathed, unsure why. It wasn’t as if I could ask him how he felt about me right then. I wasn’t thinking clearly. All I could do was just feel.
He dipped his head, brushing his cheek against mine as he brought his lips to my ear. “Shh.” His whisper was so soft and gentle. “We don’t want to get caught.”
I closed my eyes as my whole body shivered and broke out in goosebumps. He felt it. How could he not? One of his hands slid down the door and cupped my upper arm.
Without thought, the hand that wasn’t holding my library book fisted his burgundy blazer. My body didn’t stop there in its act of betrayal. I arched slightly against him, bringing even more of our bodies closer.
With his mouth still so close, I heard his breath hitch. “Lottie,” he exhaled, his lips brushing my ear. That sent another shiver through me. His hand on my arm tightened as his soft voice let out a curse.
I could just barely hear the voices of the group of girls grow distant as if they were heading down a different hall or walking into a classroom. Too quickly, the hall became vacant.
I opened my eyes as Roe pulled back until he could see me. His gaze bounced all over my face, undoubtedly taking in how affected I was. His eyes eventually landed on my slightly parted lips and stayed there. Gone was the schooled expression. I could see what he wanted. I wanted it just as much. His hand on my arm slid up and over my shoulder. When his touch reached the spot where Mother had hit me with the rolling pin, I winced, ruining the moment. His hand disappeared and he backed away from me.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—” He cut himself off and cleared his throat. “I forgot about your shoulder. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
With the distance between us, the fog that had taken over my brain seemed to lift. “I think I should be the one apologizing.”
