Page 10 of Crybaby

Once out in the empty corridor, I let out an elated giggle because that was fun.

Looking from left to right, I wonder which way Blackwood would have gone. I don’t know how I know he’s up to something. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling. Or maybe I’m connected to him in some way, and I just have to know.

I think he’s a thrill seeker like me, and I want to come along for the ride.

Muting my footsteps, I hear the unmissable sound of someone trying to break into a locker, and when I turn the corner, I see Blackwood with a brown paper bag in hand.

I cross my arms and shake my head slowly.

“What’s that?” I ask, stopping a few feet away.

He doesn’t even appear concerned he’s been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t.

“I don’t know. What do you want it to be?” he counters with that annoying cocky smirk.

“Whose locker is that?”

“What makes you think it’s not mine?” he poses, flick blade in hand as he jams it into the lock.

I realize our conversation has just been a series of questions, so I decide to watch and get the answers myself.

Blackwood isn’t bothered and continues picking the lock until it finally snaps open with a satisfying click. He opens the door, and when I see a mirror attached to it with pink lipstick lips pressed to it, I roll my eyes.

“I stand corrected,” I state. “That is clearly your locker cause what other narcissistic fuckass would kiss their reflection every time they look into that mirror? Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the most annoying guy in this school?”

Blackwood clutches his heart, faking hurt.

He places the brown paper bag into the locker and extends his hand.

I arch a brow, confused.

“Give me your lighter,” he says, and before I can lie through my teeth, he shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you don’t have one. I know you packed it before you packed your lunch.”

It’s like he knows me already.

My curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk forward until we’re standing mere inches apart.

He towers over me, but I don’t feel dwarfed in his presence. I don’t know what it is about him, but I loosen my tie and unfasten two buttons on my shirt. But he doesn’t seem to notice. He continues looking at me as if deciphering the world’s most fascinating puzzle.

I reach into my shirt and produce the lighter from where it’s hidden in my bra. I don’t know how he knew I’d have it. I guess the fact that I was standing in front of a flaming rose bush when we met is the reason.

The moment I come in contact with it, warmth and comfort embrace me tightly. It’s the only time I ever feel safe.

Passing it to Blackwood, he shakes his head. “This is yours.”

“My what?”

“Your turn.”

“For?”

“For setting the world on fire,” he replies, gently coaxing me toward the locker by placing a hand on the small of my back.

His touch has an unexpected reaction. He’s bold, I’ll give him that. I fucking love it, but I would never tell him that.

Without hesitation, I run my thumb along the spark wheel, and the moment I do, a shiver racks me. It’s foreplay before the big climax. Suddenly, nothing else matters but setting that bag on fire.

The moment the flame sparks to life, I am transfixed by it and how fire can destroy in the blink of an eye. Something so beautiful can cause so much pain—like me, as my mom used to tell me I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

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