Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

My brows snap together, realizing I don’t know the answer to that.

What I do know is I felt restless, the need to get out and breathe was fucking smothering, so that’s what I did.

Ain’t nothin’ to it.

When I don’t respond, her eyes drop to her straw.

After a few quiet seconds, she says, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t do what?”

“Drop me on the curb.”

I wipe my face of all expression, my wall shooting higher, and with it comes a bit of a bite. “Don’t pretend to know me.”

“Don’t show your cards so quickly.”

“Girl—”

“Brielle.” She tips her chin.

Anger brims beneath my skin, heating me from the inside out.

I cock my head, but before I say a damn word, she raises her brows like a brat, leans into my space, and takes a fry from my plate, popping it into her mouth.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make sure I’m safe,” she says.

“I don’t give a shit what you are or aren’t,” I spit.

She’s twisting my damn nerves.

Brielle rolls her eyes, reaching for her milkshake. “Okay, I’ll rephrase, so we can pretend you’re impassive and careless when you’re clearly kind of not, how’s that sound?”

I glare. “Sounds like you want to be left here.”

She laughs but keeps her little smart-ass shit up. “There’s nothing wrong with you not liking the idea of a girl being in a dangerous situation. How was that... better?”

“If sleeping outside is a dangerous situation and you’re aware of that, why do it?”

“If walking onto a campus where people don’t know what a badass mama-jamma you are is dangerous, why do it?” she mocks.

I lick my lips, squashing the grin that’s tempted to show itself. “Ain’t nothin’ dangerous about that.”

“Picking a fight with a handful of guys and the dude who is basically their own little idol—or not little,” she corrects herself. “Franky is actually pretty gigantic and muscly and stuff and—” She laughs suddenly, cutting herself off. “What?”

I glare. “I didn’t say shit.”

She pulls her lips in, amusement washing over her, and it pisses me off.

“You didn’t say anything,” she agrees. “But your face did the whole ‘I’m annoyed’, angry boy thing.”

“I am annoyed. You talk too much.”

“And you brought me to this diner, sat us away from absolutely everyone, to what?” she steals another fry, swiping it along her ice cream before biting into it. “Eat?”

“Don’t get it twisted,” I say slowly. “We’re only here to kill time until you’re allowed inside the house you live in, but if you prefer to sleep on the ground, say the fuckin’ word and back we’ll fucking go.”

Her body stiffens, her focus falling to the cold treat in front of her.

She grabs her spoon, lightly stirring the thick malt. “I didn’t say I couldn’t go inside.”

“You panicked when I went for the door handle.”

She opens her mouth, but closes it, her gaze sliding to mine and chock-full of unease.

“Tell me why.”

She keeps her mouth clamped shut, but then lifts a single shoulder, her eyes bouncing between mine. “Because what other choice do we have, Royce Brayshaw, other than to do what we must to survive?”

“You have to sleep outside to survive?”

“I have to avoid bad situations to survive, but I’ll save us both the back and forth and reiterate, no crime, remember? The people are jerks, but words are words.” She shrugs. “It’s perfectly safe to sleep pretty much anywhere here. No crime, remember?”

My eyes narrow, and I want to ask her what she meant with the first part of her statement but go with something simpler. “There’s crime everywhere.”

She thinks on it a second and says, “That’s fair, but it’s not the kind you’re used to.”

“How would you know, little Bishop?” I lean forward. “If big brother hides as much of our world as the fucker’s supposed to, as you led on he does, then how do you know what kind of shit I see?”

She plants one arm on the table, and the other on the back of the booth, meeting my few inches forward with a few of her own. “You’d be surprised what you can find on the internet.”

“So you stalk us?”

“Not you.” Her eyes cloud with longing, but she blinks it away. “My home.”

Confusion swims in my head as I study her.

“Tell me,” she says, her tone tired but not with a need for sleep. “Do you hide things from your brothers?”

My muscles jolt at the mention of my family. “No.”

“So they know you’re here?”

My lips press together and a small smile finds her, but it’s not a triumphant, bitchy one.

The girl almost comes off wretched.

“That’s what I thought, you’re the black sheep. You didn’t lie to them, but you do bend the rules until they make sense in your favor, sort of ride the line to the very edge, forever jumping before you have a chance to fall.” She lays her head on her fist as she stares up at me. “I’m kind of like that, too. The black sheep, for sure, but the rules... I don’t exactly bend them. I do what I’m supposed to for the most part, with school and at the house and whatnot, but—” She cuts herself off with a scowl and looks away. “You’ll think I’m lame.”