Sweet Dandelion

My eyes flicker over him trying and failing to find anything unattractive about him. He picks up a bottle of water and takes a long swallow, his throat muscles constricting.

Me being here is bound to be breaking some sort of school rule, but Lachlan doesn’t seem to have thought of that. Probably because to him I’m a kid. An eighteen-year-old kid who whines to him about her problems five days a week. He doesn’t have the thoughts that I’m having—like his bedroom is only a few feet away. He surely doesn’t wonder what my skin would feel like against his.

He’s the only person that I’ve felt comfortable really speaking to about what happened and that’s formed some sort of connection that’s making me have those kinds of thoughts. I don’t even understand why out of everyone I’ve spoken to since the tragedy that it’s him I open up to. There’s some unexplainable gut feeling inside me when it comes to Lachlan. Maybe if I were older, more experienced, I would have words for it.

“You don’t mind if I let Zeppelin out, do you? He’s in my room.”

My heart ticks faster when he mentions his room.

“I don’t mind.” I try to inconspicuously stuff the wadded up post-it into my back pocket, suddenly afraid I might drop it. I want to keep it.

“Give me a sec.”

He finishes slurping down all sixteen-point-nine ounces of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his tanned hand.

His steps resonate softly down the hall, a plain gray rug softening his steps.

Seconds later there’s a bark and Zeppelin races down the hall, crashing into me.

I wrap my arms around him and hug the mammoth dog back.

“Zep, man! Be careful with her!” Lachlan calls from his bedroom.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” I scratch Zeppelin behind his ears. He gives me a kiss, covering me in doggy drool. I frown because it’s kind of gross, but the dog is too sweet to let it bother me for long.

We never had a dog growing up. I always wanted one, but my mom said we didn’t have time, which I understood with her working and all my extra-curricular activities. But maybe Sage would let me get a dog?

I stand up when I hear Lachlan’s feet padding down the hall. Zeppelin rubs his head against my leg, begging for more attention.

“Here’s that book.”

He offers the hardback to me and I take it, studying the cover—dark colors, eyes peeking through, very creepy vibes.

“It’s not horror, right? I don’t like to be scared.”

He chuckles, grabbing the back of one of the stools at his breakfast bar. “No. It’ll keep you guessing, but it’s not scary.”

I arch a brow at him. “Pinky promise?”

He chuckles. “Pinky promise.”

He shakes his head, wrapping his pinky around mine when I offer it.

Stepping away, I lift the book in the air, using it to point at him. “Thanks. I’ll uh … thanks.” Why the hell am I so awkward? I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m going to go now.”

He chuckles, letting go of the chair to open the door for me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dani.”

I back out the door facing him. I force myself to turn around and go to the elevator. Before I reach the end of the hall I glance over my shoulder.

He’s still watching me, his eyes narrowed, his face troubled. When he catches me looking he schools his features and closes the door.

“That smells amazing. I’m starving.” The door clicks closed behind Sage and I look up from the couch where I’m curled up with the book. It was slow to start, but now it has me guessing.

“I totally forgot I ordered food.”

When it arrived twenty minutes ago I went back to reading, too consumed by the story to even eat. Besides, I always try to wait for Sage.

Laying the book on the coffee table, I shove the blanket off and stand.