Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

In a fucking frenzy, she swipes the silver strands from her face, squeezing her eyes closed as tight as possible.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she whispers, her hands coming up to shield her, her fingers gently tapping at her lids.

“Hate to break it to you, little Bishop, but if you’re trying to wake yourself up... you ain’t sleepin’.”

Every muscle in her tiny body locks, her fingers spreading just enough to allow her to meet my gaze through the gap.

Her shoulders fall with her hands as if I wasn’t the cause of her little trip out just now, a frown quickly following.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses.

“Fuck are you doing out here?” I crouch down beside her, my elbows on my knees.

Her fingers come up to cover her yawn. “What time is it?”

My jaw tics. “Why you outside, in the fuckin’ dark, alone?”

Now she glares. “Stop answering my questions with a question.”

“Stop askin’ questions and answer mine.”

“Oh my god.” She shakes her head with a huff.

“The hell are you doing sleeping on a fucking box outside at nine at night?”

There. I gave her the time.

Consider me fucking kind.

“I was...” She trails off, spotting her books sitting beside her, and it’s as if a little light bulb flicks on.

“I was doing homework.” She nods, trying to convince herself. “I guess I fell asleep.”

I focus on the stack of shit at her side.

“Right.” I lick my lips, my eyes flicking to hers. “You finished your work, put it all together like a good little student would, set it down all nice and fuckin’ neat, and forgot to stand up and go inside?”

A crease forms along her forehead. “I was looking for Ursa Minor?”

My head tugs back. “Ursa what?”

“Star gazing?”

Slowly, one of my brows kicks up. “That a question?”

She pinches her mouth to the side.

I glance at the house, not a light left on as far as I can tell.

I push to my feet. “Get up.”

“Royce.”

I grab her things off the grass, stuffing it in her bag, and stare down at her, still sitting Indian style on the ground.

“Up.”

“I’m good here, thanks,” she says, but her lips are pulled in tight.

“On five, I’m carrying you into that house.”

She scoffs, but the longer she looks at me, the more uneasy she grows.

I knew something was fucked-up here.

I’ll give her a chance to tell me what it is.

“Why are you out here?”

She focuses on her bag in my hand.

I fling it over my shoulder, bend, and scoop her ass up.

Her eyes are wide and on me, leaving her no choice but to hold on tight.

“One.”

“Royce—”

“Two.”

“Don’t—”

“Five.”

I’m up the steps, my hand planted on the handle when hers flies out to cover mine, the heat of her palm freezing me on the spot.

My eyes slice to hers.

The muscles in my stomach coil over, and my arms stiffen around her.

She stares up at me, eyes a darkened, tortured turquoise, silently begging me to let go, turn the fuck around and walk back down.

This girl, she doesn’t know me.

I don’t know her.

So how the fuck do I know what she wants?

And even more warped, how does she know that I do?

She proves it by drawing her hand away, the cool night air replacing it as the breeze rolls over my knuckles.

I let go of the damn doorknob, but not her eyes.

I hold them with a heavy frown as I make my way across the grass, bypassing the spot I grabbed her from, and not stopping until we reach the car. I let her legs drop, lowering her feet to the ground and reach by her to tug on the door.

Something’s on the tip of her tongue, an attempt to argue maybe, but instead, she lets go, slides into the seat and stares straight ahead.

I close her in, taking slow as shit steps around the car too... I don’t even fuckin’ know why.

But it sure as hell seems necessary.

That alone should have me kicking her ass out of the car.

Instead, I slide inside it and take us to the first place I can find that’s still open—a small townie diner.

We’ve been here for twenty minutes now and for the last fifteen, she’s pretended not to be watching me from her corner of the booth while I’ve been purposely ignoring the fact that she is, straight focused on my fries and chocolate shake.

Her dramatic huff and hard smack of the spoon on the tabletop does what she wants, though.

I turn my head toward her. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I was outside?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I already know.”

“Okay...” She twists her body to face mine. “So why was I?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “I’m not playin’ your bullshit, just waitin’ until I get to take your ass back and drop you on the curb.”

“If that’s the truth, why bother showing up in the first place?”