Chapter 8 - The Fight

It's alright, I try to assure myself. Pretend it never happened.

But the scene replays in my mind clearly. I see Jordan's face—the scar over his left brow, his amber eyes almost a dark brown in the shade. And I feel the tingle on the back of my hand again, wrapped by Jordan's hand. I realize again just how tiny my hands are compared to his.

“What are you going to wear for the dance?” Riley asks, sipping some fruit juice from a can. We're sitting on one of the wooden benches of the park. The one that's right below a huge tree whose name I do not know. On other days, it provides us shade from the scorching sun, but now it's naked with dry branches spreading out, and the sky above is filled with grey clouds. A crow sits perched on one swaying branch, cawing down at us, its eyes glued to the burger in Riley’s hands.

“NESSA?” Riley shouts in my ears, startling me. My own can of juice falls to the ground, its content spilling in all directions.

“Riley, do that again. I dare you.”

Riley