Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
There goes my plan to enjoy the fight from a front-row seat.
I’m about to step in when something catches in my peripheral vision.
Actually, it’s someone. Overhead.
The parking lot is situated at the bottom of a hill. At the top, there are countless trees that many students use as camouflage to make out.
For a second, I believe the blur of motion is, in fact, a couple fucking first thing in the morning.
But it isn’t.
I take a step back so I can get a better view and freeze.
It’s a girl.
She transferred to our school this year. I’ve seen her before because she’s on the cheer squad with Reina, Brianna, and the others.
Also, she’s so tiny, her size always gives her away in a crowd.
It’s not her size that makes me stop and stare, though.
It’s her eyes.
Or, more accurately, the tears in them.
Two streaks paint her blushed cheeks as she stares at the bleak sky.
There’s something haunting about the look in her eyes, a wretchedness of sorts.
Or maybe it’s an urge that couldn’t be taken care of, like in my case.
She’s not bawling the way the rest of the girls do. She doesn’t seem to have red-rimmed eyes either.
Her grief is silent and discreet, as if she, herself, isn’t aware that she’s doing it.
I’ve never seen anyone look as heartbreakingly beautiful when they cry as she does right now.
A gust of wind toys with her short black hair and tulle skirt, making them fly in the air behind her. Even her jacket opens, revealing her Metallica T-shirt.
A leaf falls on her nose and she cuts off her staring contest with the sky to clutch it between her delicate fingers.
They’re small, just like the rest of her.
Her dark eyes focus on the leaf as if it’s the first time she’s seen one. And just like that, she smiles.
It’s a slow one that builds over time. Her rosebud lips purse and then they curve in the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen.
Her nose twitches and droplets of tears cling to her lips and chin, but she doesn’t stop smiling as she fingers the leaf.
An irrational thought takes hold of me, one that I wouldn’t ordinarily have under any circumstances. I’ve never been the irrational type. Not for any reason.
And yet, the need to go up there is stronger than any violent urge I have ever had. I want to ask her why she’s crying and why she’s smiling.
I want to ask her how it’s possible to look like a fucking angel I don’t believe in while she’s both crying and smiling.
Better yet, I want to be the reason why she has that expression on her face.
Haunted happiness.
As if neither the pain nor the joy could win, so they decided to co-exist.
But I don’t go to her.
Because if I do, I’ll ruin the perfect image in front of me. One that countless artists could try to emulate but would never manage to.
A piece of fucking art.
“Sebastian!”
My gaze strays away at the sound of my name. It’s Owen and he’s glaring, pointing at the fight so I’ll go and help him break it up.
That’s when I realize I completely zoned out from what’s going on.
Weird.
My own need for violence is barely there. It’s definitely not as strong as it was a few minutes ago.
“Just a sec,” I tell Owen and stare up at the hill.
There’s nothing.
The angel I made up is no longer there.
Maybe she didn’t exist in the first place.
Only, she did.
And I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her from now on.
If only to see her cry-smile again. Or maybe just smile.
Or just cry.
As long as I see her.
6
Naomi
I stare in the darkness, my lips parting.
Unable to resist, I reach out blindingly until I touch Sebastian’s sleeve. He’s no longer retelling the events of the first day he ‘met’ me, but I’m not done listening.
I’m not done hearing him say that he actually knew I existed all along.
He might not have shown it, but he knew I was there. Maybe for as long as I’ve known about him.
“Why were you crying that day?” His voice is quiet, almost unsure, which is so unlike him. He’s usually bursting with quiet confidence, but right now, he’s showing me a side of him he never has before. “I’ve waited so long to ask that question.”
I don’t even have to think hard about it. I remember it clearly as if it were a few days ago. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s a stupid reason and I hate to shatter your memories.”
“Nothing is stupid about you, Nao.”
My grip tightens on his sleeve. “It was my birthday. Mom asked me what present she could get me, and I told her I wanted Dad. She didn’t like that and we got into a huge fight right before I left for school. That’s why I was crying. See? It’s a stupid reason.”