Page 44 of A Deadly Game of Cat and Mouse

Where was he? I had to find him. I couldn’t lose my only chance of waking up from this nightmare.

There!

“Wait!” I screamed as I hurried after him, making everyone look at me. “HAWK!”

He walked around the corner, and I ran as quickly as I could into the alleyway without looking at where I was going.

This probably explained why I collided with a six-foot-tall wall.

The next thing I know, my butt was on the floor, and little stars were flying everywhere.

I looked up when my head finally cleared and stared at the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in my entire life. When he bent down to give me a hand, beautiful green eyes looked down on me worriedly.

Wow.

Just, wow.

“Are you all right?” His cheeks dimpled when he spoke. Even his voice was beautiful. How was this possible? I was almost afraid to blink in case he disappeared.

I grabbed his hand to pull myself up, and something strange happened when our skin touched. A spark resonated within my body and hit me like a freight train.

The warmth that followed felt big and peculiar, like euphoria and complete heartache rolled into one.

I know I sounded melodramatic, but it wasn’t easy putting what I felt into words. Contrary to other girls, I’d never had a crush on a boy before and wasn’t prepared for my reaction.

“Mine.”

Then again, maybe I didn’t have to when I just randomly blurted them out to the world.

Mortification crept up on my face. I couldn’t believe I’d just broadcasted that. It wasn’t like me to be overcome by emotions.

The boy gave me a mischievous smile after he got over his shock and said, “Am I?”

I wished the floor would open and swallow me whole. I was so embarrassed, my face was about to combust any second now. I tried pulling my hand away but couldn’t.

“I must say, it feels nice to be claimed by a stranger first thing in the morning. You have excellent taste, girl.”

There is no doubt in my mind that anybody else would have handled what followed better. But I have the emotional intelligence of a pebble. I couldn’t tell when someone was teasing me or making fun of me, so instead of smiling and flirting back, I became defensive.

“I was talking about my backpack.”

“Sure, you were.”

“I really was, you big egghead.”

Like I told you, a pebble. A really intelligent one, but still a pebble.

He chuckled, “I’ll believe that when you stop staring at my beautiful caramel skin like I’m your favorite topping on a Sunday.”

Huh?

“Is there a reason you’re talking about food? What does it have to do with anything?” I asked him, perplexed, making him stare at me in confusion.

“Hum, it’s called flirting.”

“Why would you flirt with someone by comparing yourself to a Sunday topping?”

“My father’s friend says that whenever he sees a pretty girl.”

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