Page 18 of Free Me (Free 1)
Sonya’s head and mine whipped toward the window simultaneously.
“Absolutely.”
“No.”
We answered at once, and Andrew smirked.
“She’ll be right out.” Sonya nudged me toward the cakes and grinned.
I scowled.
“Meet you over at the bench.” Andrew motioned over his shoulder.
I cut a slice of strawberry and gripped the plate to keep my hands from shaking as I made my way over to where he sat.
“It’s just cake,” I whispered to myself. “We’re in broad daylight, and he’s nice.”
Huxley was nice, the cautious part of me piped up. I couldn’t ignore her, but I tried to forget it for the moment.
“Did you say something?” Andrew asked as he scooted over to make more room for me. “I thought you did, but I couldn’t hear you.”
My face flamed. “Um . . . I was talking to myself,” I admitted, ducking my head down. “Best you know what kind of crazy you’re hanging out with.”
He leaned closer, pressing his arm into mine. I held completely still. The gripping fear I usually felt at a man’s touch didn’t come. This time, it was more subdued. I wasn’t afraid Andrew would hurt me, but I was a little frightened to be this close to him for reasons I couldn’t put my finger on.
“Want to know a secret?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “I talk to myself too. All the time.”
I lifted my head to look at him. He bumped my shoulder. I flinched. He backed off, and I looked away.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly.
He put a little distance between us, and I was able to breathe evenly.
“It’s not you. I’m just . . ." I couldn’t finish the thought. There were so many words to describe me, but I didn’t want to use any of them. I didn’t want to be broken or scarred or damaged. I’d never want to be any of those things. Admitting that I was out loud seemed another victory for Huxley.
“Fascinating. Bright. Beautiful in an angelic kind of way.” I jerked my head toward him, and his cheeks turned pink. “Maybe I should work on my filter. Just until we get to know one another a little better.”
A burst of laughter escaped me. “No.” I covered my mouth with my hand to compose myself. “I like No-filter Andrew.”
“He’s going to take a break so he can quit while he’s ahead.”
“You think you’re ahead?”
“There’s only one fork here. That has to mean something, right?”
“Yep. I wasn’t planning on having any cake,” I said, and his mouth pressed into a frown.
“Should I be worried that you won’t eat your own food?”
“Of course, not.” I lifted my chin.
“Prove it,” he challenged.
I stared at him a moment, determining that he was serious, before I picked up the fork, stabbed at a bite, and shoved it in my mouth.
He beamed, reached for the fork, and took a taste. Thoughtfully, he chewed, his expression turning to one of bliss. “See. We’re sharing.” He pointed the fork at the dessert. “That’s too good.”
Andrew forked another bite, lifting it to my lips. Automatically, I opened.
