I hate to admit that I consider his offer. I’m still pissed at Archer, and therefore am feeling reckless. That, and I don’t particularly want to run the whole way back to the Pyramid. Frankly, my legs already hurt like hell. And, though I’m even less inclined to admit this: Beau looks really goo
Beau turns into the ice cream shop. For a small town, the place is hopping. Maybe this is the only bit of fun for miles around. Beau cuts across the parking lot and parks right up front, on the grass. It’s not a parking spot but no one seems to really care. We both get off the bike and he ha
I have never eaten an ice cream so fast in my life. I practically inhale it, all while carefully avoiding looking at Beau. When I finally finish, I dart off of the park bench. “I have to use the bathroom,” I say over my shoulder as I hustle to the back of the banana-split shaped buildings to the
My face burns with fresh embarrassment. No way he just announced that to the entire place? I wash my hands in a hurry, make sure my clothes aren’t too wrinkled, and then exit the tiny room. “I wasn’t doing anything!” I demand, loud enough that anyone who might have heard him before would now
Beau storms over to where Wyatt is standing. The confident bastard doesn’t once look back at me to make sure I listened to him. That’s his fault. He should have known I wasn’t going to stay put. “Something you want to say, Wyatt?” Beau asks. I come to stand beside him, and he sighs, long-suf
He’s not denying Wyatt’s words and it hurts. Beau looks at me and I see the truth of it in his eyes. He’s looking at me the same way he does the conquests he’s finished with. Like I’m nothing more than a bother. It’s such a switch from the rest of our evening that it snatches the breath righ
“What happened to you?” I ask on reflex, my own troubles pushed aside for now. There are dark, heavy bags under Neil’s eyes and his cheeks are harrow. He looks downright haggard, like he’s the one with a sickness, but he doesn’t seem to have any congestion. Maybe he was beat up or something, but
Neil lowers his head. “Feelings are difficult for us.” His frown deepens. “Even for me.” He sighs. “Maybe especially for me. We weren’t exactly raised to express ourselves.” “So learn,” I say. “It’s not hard to care about someone.” “No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But it is difficult to… admit it