Josh hovered inches from me, taunting me with the paint. Aside from the original blue streak, he had flecks of green and yellow in his hair and a smatter of black across his cheek. He looked me in the eye and grinned.
My heart missed a beat. Then another. I stared at his paint- spattered lips. His breath grew heavier as he stepped even closer. My skin tingled with warmth.
76
Do it. Please. Just kiss me.
His eyes traveled down to my lips. I could already feel them buzzing. I looked him in the eye.
Please, Josh. Please.
Suddenly, he blinked and backed off. Everything inside of me nose-dived, so fast I almost physically fell over. "You're right," he said. "Enough damage for one night."
My face burned with humiliation. There was no way he didn't know what I'd been thinking. I'd practically said the word please out loud. I had to get out of here. Now. I cleared my throat and wiped my hands on my jeans, making them even messier. My coat and bag seemed, miraculously, unscathed, but I couldn't pick them up in my current state.
"I need a bathroom," I blurted.
"Down the hall on the right."
Josh couldn't even look at me.
"Right. I remember."
After struggling with the door handle with my paint-covered hands I finally broke free and raced down the hall, as if I could somehow leave what had just almost happened behind me. Shoving my way into the bathroom, I startled a Ketlar guy who was standing right opposite the door. I braced my hands on the white sink. My reflection was frightening--matted, sticky hair, multicolored swirls all over my face--but I didn't even care. All I could see were my eyes.
The eyes of a girl who had just tried to seduce her dead boyfriend's roommate.
77
NOT TO BE SAD
I skipped breakfast the next day. I couldn't face Josh. Instead, I stood in the shower for thirty minutes, letting the hot water scorch my skin, wishing it could burn away all feeling. When Natasha knocked on the door and asked if I was coming, I told her I needed to be alone. She left, no questions asked. One of the benefits of being the widow.
The quad was peaceful when I emerged, cuddled into my favorite white cotton sweater--which I had been wearing almost every day lately--and buttoning up my coat. I expected to take a slow, solitary stroll to morning services, but when I looked up, Constance was just coming out the back door of Bradwell. She grinned in surprise.
"Hey! What are you doing out here?" she asked as we turned together up the path that led past Mitchell Hall and the cafeteria to the chapel.
"Running late," I said. "You?"
"Oh, my mom called," Constance said, rolling her eyes.
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"My little brother Trey got chicken pox and now Carla, the nanny, has it, too, so my mom has basically gone to the zoo. She's babbling about vaccination shots and surgical masks and the end of the world. Have I mentioned that my mother is not all there?"
I smirked. Constance was always good for a distraction.
"What's your mom like?" she asked innocently.
I bit my tongue against the flash of anger that always took over at any thought of my mother. It was amazing how powerful it was. But I didn't want to bite her head off or say something dismissive. I had done that to her before in response to one of her naive questions, and I was trying to better myself.
"Let's just say she went to the zoo a long time ago and she's still there, feeding the monkeys," I said.
Constance's brows knit, but then she laughed. "You're too funny, Reed."
"I try," I said flatly.
We came around the corner and my stomach attempted to drop out of my body. Josh was waiting against the chapel wall. He stepped away when he saw us. So, waiting for me.