Stupid Boy

“Thank you,” I said. I glanced around, scared to see if anyone had noticed Kane’s gesture. As far as I could tell, no one had—except the casher, who’d given me a hasty look. What in the world did Kane McCarthy want with me? In my hand I clutched a five-dollar bill. Despite the sandwich and lemonade only costing three of the five dollars, the whole bill landed on the top of Kane’s sandwiches. “But I don’t take charity. Especially from strangers.” Turning quickly, I started out of the café. I made it to the door, only to have his big hand push it open and hold it as I passed through. Silently, I did. He followed.

“We’re not strangers.”

I made the mistake of looking at him. I shouldn’t have; should’ve just kept on walking. But, I didn’t. His stormy eyes lit on mine, holding on as if we could communicate without speaking. By just simply…looking at each other. I’d never reacted that way before. To anyone. The brown depths of his irises gleamed fathomless; held secrets, maybe. Kind of like mine did.

I cleared my throat and returned my gaze ahead of me, and continued on my way. Dusk was fading fast. “Of course we are,” I said.

“We’ve met before,” he continued in a soft, even voice. “You gave me directions to the observatory. And…” I glanced at him again, and his mouth curved. “You’re friends with my brother and his girl.” He inclined his head, toward the café. “I introduced myself back there,” he replied. “And so did you.” He ducked his head to look at me, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Strangers no more.”

I walked faster, crossing the quad to the main parking lot where I’d left my Lexus. I spared him a look. “We’re friends, yes. But all the same I make it a habit never to accept handouts, even from friends.” I held my eyes to his. “I don’t like owing anyone. Besides. We’ve barely known each other ten minutes.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Handouts? I was just—” He sighed. “Never mind. So why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’m late for a Greek assembly,” I lied, and just like whenever I had to lie, I started feeling cagey. Ready to escape. I felt my skin prickle. I felt ready to run.

Breathe, Harper. Just breathe. Don’t let them in. Don’t let them see you.

He’s nobody.

Another deep breath, inconspicuous, and I shook off the feeling that sometimes threatened to swamp me. That brought on confusion. Slips of memory. And what Corinne Belle called fits of unnatural behavior. I hadn’t had an episode in, well, forever. Yet within a few moments Kane McCarthy threatened to pull one out of me. I breathed slowly. Controlled. Focused on the now. Tamped down what madness was brewing inside of me. I stopped at my car and, with the keys in my hand, I pressed the unlock button and opened my door. Kane was right beside me.

“It was nice meeting you,” I said calmly. I’d almost forgotten my manners so I quickly flashed a well-practiced smile. “Welcome to Winston, Kane McCarthy.”

As I shut the door to my Lexus, Kane stepped back and watched me silently. Crazy, but I looked at him—as if my eyeballs had a will of their own, as if they didn’t care the state in which Kane almost drove me to. And it was a mistake. Not a fit of unnatural behavior sort of mistake, but…different. Unfamiliar. Shocking. Those coffee colored eyes bore into mine, steady and quiet and smoky and something else I couldn’t identify. Didn’t want to. Then, a small movement lifted his mouth in the corner, shifted his expression into what looked like amusement—or interest—and he gave a single nod of goodbye. Quickly I pulled past him and drove away.

As I drove through Winston’s narrow, tree-lined streets I let my breath out. Alone, I felt safe. I felt like I didn’t have to hide anything. Or lie. To anyone. Except myself.

Kane McCarthy. What had propelled him to take an interest in me? Why had he looked at me like that? And why had he made me so incredibly edgy? It was all sort of silly, really. I mean, it’d been my idea to use him as my Dare reformation. So why did I allow him to stir such a reaction in me? He wasn’t supposed to be pursuing me. I was supposed to be pursuing him. It made no sense. None at all.

At the main gates I waited for several cars to pass, then when it was clear I pulled out, heading toward a place I frequented. My favorite place. Me and no one else. If I hurried, I’d have a few minutes before it grew too dark.

I entered the city limits of Covington and soon after veered right, down an oak-lined road. Street lamps cast a hazy glow over the pavement, and soon the entrance to Ardsley Park emerged on the left. A small man-made lake with a jogging track around its perimeter, and picnic tables along the side, families gathered here on the weekends. Not too many students since Winston had its own magnificent park. And that’s exactly why I came.

I pulled in and edged along the drive until I reached my usual spot, then parked. Grabbing my turkey sandwich and lemonade, I left my car and walked to the park bench by the pond’s edge.

After I wiped off the early evening dew from the wooden seat with one of the napkins I’d taken from the café, I sat, meticulously opened the wrapper on my sandwich and quietly ate. Small birds chirped and tweeted in the tree boughs above my head, and the sun had completely dropped from sight, leaving in its wake a hazy, almost blurry sort of maddening gray. A mysterious blanket that draped over everything, just before the night’s blackness settled in. I watched a couple jogging along the path beneath the lamplight, and as they ran they bumped shoulders. Raced each other. Played around.