‘Please don’t show this smile to the world, ma’am. The wolves will eat you alive,’ I want to beg, but again I keep my lips sealed, fidgeting uncomfortably in place.
“Scarlett, sweetheart, do you mind giving my son some company while he waits for me? I have some things to discuss with your uncle. Is that alright?”
I look at my uncle for his permission, and he gives me a curt nod in reply. I’m not sure why he’s acting so intense. He doesn’t act this way back home. He and Aunt Gloria have been nothing but kind to me since the moment I arrived. If I had to venture a guess, I think he’s putting this stern expression on his face so that people don’t ask too many questions about why I’m here in the first place. Because with questions come answers, and sometimes those are too painful to say out loud.
“Well, go on now. He won’t bite.” She laughs affectionately.
Hesitantly, I walk to the entrance of our church and stand a few steps away from the boy in black. My lips purse together, looking at him. It’s a warm July morning. Witnessing him wearing all that black is making me sweat profusely. Or maybe it’s just the idea of heat that makes my stomach churn. I prefer cool days and rain showers to this blazing heat. I wonder if he feels the same. It can’t be comfortable for him, wearing such dark clothes in the middle of summer. I pull on my long sleeves and cringe.
Then again, who am I to judge?
“Hi,” I mumble, pushing my glasses up to the bridge of my nose to get a better view of him.
But while the boy in black has stroked my curiosity, he doesn’t even acknowledge my greeting and just keeps staring into the distance.
“I said, hi. You must be Easton,” I repeat, in case he didn’t hear me the first time. “My name is Scarlett.”
“I don’t care,” he huffs out in boredom, stunning me speechless. Well, almost.
“That’s rude of you to say,” I counter with my weak defense.
“It can’t be rude if it’s the truth. You should try it sometime.”
I grind my teeth at the unexpected, feverish blush his remark provokes on me.
“I was just trying to be polite. Your momma asked me to keep you company while she talks with my uncle.”
Easton throws his head over his shoulder to look at the woman in question and sees she’s immersed in some conversation with my uncle.
“I don’t need babysitting. Go away.”
Believe me, I want to. I want to stampede out of here and not have to spend another minute next to this obnoxious boy. But I made a promise, and those I try to keep. Even ones as annoying as keeping company to a jerk face.
I stand beside him and just look around, trying to gauge what he’s staring at. It’s a vacant parking lot. Not much to look at, really. Most of the parishioners have left and are probably enjoying Sunday lunch as we speak.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I ask, making my last attempt to engage in friendly conversation.
Easton lets out an exaggerated sigh and then turns his face to meet mine for the first time since we started this awkward back and forth. My lips pucker into a disgruntled frown when I realize he’s just as beautiful as his momma. Maybe even more so. He has her silver eyes, but while hers are swimming with kindness, his are hauntingly observant. It’s almost as if he can see right through me and dissect me with one single glance.
I swallow dryly as his eyes skate down my body. I know what he must be thinking—my clothes are too big and definitely too plain. I couldn’t care less about his opinion on fashion, though. Dressing like this, I feel unseen. Protected. It’s my shield.
Only thing is, this boy sees me. Even when I’m trying to hide, he sees something. Can he see my charred, blackened soul? No. It can’t be. How could he? But whatever grabbed his attention, I want him to look away.
Stop looking at me!
Just stop!
I’m reconsidering my options of going back into the church and asking my uncle if I could walk home, rather than having to wait for him. On second thought, Uncle Jack might get upset if I interrupt his conversation with one of his parishioners. I also don’t want to walk home by myself. There are monsters everywhere, just waiting to catch me off-guard again. I think I might be looking at one now.
The scoff he lets out as he continues to scrutinize me angers me more than any fear he could instill.
“What?” I snarl at him, irritated that this kid thinks he’s above me in some way.
This is nothing but arrogance—entitled, privileged arrogance. Someone should teach Easton Price some manners. After meeting his kindhearted mother, I doubt she will be up for the task.
“You tell me. You’re the one who came over wanting to talk my ear off.”
“No, I didn’t. I was just trying to be nice.”
“I bet,” he scoffs again, taking a step in my direction as I take one back.
“It’s true.”
“Is it? Then okay. Be nice to me.”
“Huh?” I blurt out, confused.
“You came here to be nice to me, so be it. Say something nice. Do something nice.”
The smile that crests his lips turns his features even more beautiful, which is annoying since this boy is obviously deranged. I keep taking one step back with each step he takes forward until my back is flushed against the wall, leaving me nowhere to go.
I look him in the eye, fury beaming in mine.
“So? Are you going to be nice to me or not?” He smirks, and I never wanted to slap someone so hard in the face until now.
“Not.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” His tone is loaded with malice, but it doesn’t match his next move. Easton takes a step back to give me some breathing room, even though he had the opportunity to trap and intimidate me more. “People are only nice when they want something in return.”
I want to scream at him that that’s not true, but as I think back at what my mother’s kindness cost her, I don’t say a word. He takes another long glance at me, and I see the same confusion I feel reflected in his light eyes. A long stretch of silence falls between us, and I’m not sure if I’m hearing my heart thumping madly in my chest, or his.
“So, not going to say anything else?”
“I lost the desire to talk to you at all.”
His upper lip curls to the side at my rebuke as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Nervously, I try to stand my ground. He’s nothing but a big bully that wants to see me quake. Needles prick my insides, ordering me to run away and never come back, but I school my features enough to fake a well of calm that I definitely don’t feel.
‘You can’t hurt me,’ my eyes scream at him.
‘You want to bet?’ his goad in return.
Not wanting to prolong this awkward encounter a minute longer, I start to turn around in the direction of my uncle, ready to bear the punishment for interrupting his conversation. It’s preferable to continuing on with whatever little game this infuriating boy has in mind.
“Running already, are you?”