The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,21

and wishing I’d trimmed my hair last week instead of running errands for my old man and his whores.

“Not sure.” She gave me a pained smile. “Why would you care what I have to say?”

I deliberately smirked, acting as cool and calm as I could. “Why wouldn’t I care?”

“’Cause you don’t know me.”

“I know you.”

“Yeah, but you’re not my friend.”

“Not yet.”

What the hell, Clark?

The funny thing was, friend was too basic a word.

Friend was nothing compared to what I wanted from her.

She froze. “You...you want to be my friend?” The lack of confidence in her tone made my eyes narrow. Where had her brave, bubbly fearlessness gone? Why, in this lonely, empty corridor, did she look at me as if I’d offered her the greatest gift after having nothing but empty promises?

Her obvious hunger made my stomach knot tighter and sharp, painful things stab into my chest.

In just a few short seconds, we’d gone from strangers to something more. “Depends if you’d be friends with the outcast.” I shrugged, well aware of my scruffiness, my moodiness, everything that I was and could never be.

“You’re not an outcast. I’m sure you could have many fri—”

“It’s by choice.” I cut her off. “I don’t like people.”

“But...you just said—”

“You’re the one exception.”

“Oh.” She blushed a deep pleased pink. “Well...I mean...I’m honoured. But...um, why would you want to be friends with me? We’re not exactly similar.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “What do we have in common? You’re older than me and—”

“I’m older than everyone in class.”

“Why is that?” She tilted her head inquisitively. “You’re studying the same things we are. I’ve always wondered.”

You have?

How long have you wondered?

How long had she noticed me?

I kept my voice as level as I could. “Held back.”

“By who?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Silence fell.

She licked her bottom lip as if deliberating my trustworthiness. “You seem to prefer your own company, you sure you want to hang out with me?”

I raked a hand through my hair. “I think so.”

Her head shot up, her forehead creasing into a frown. “You think so?”

I coughed, aware I’d just insulted her but not sure how to fix it. “Like you said, we’re from totally different worlds. We might not get on at all. In which case, friendship isn’t something that will work.”

“What sort of world do you come from?”

Hell.

I come from Hell.

I smiled, but I was afraid it came out more like a scowl. “Those sorts of questions are for friends only.”

“And I’m not your friend...yet.”

Smart, kind, beautiful...good. I didn’t stand a chance. Not a goddamn chance. “Exactly.”

Silence slipped in again. Nerves at getting into trouble dragged my eyes to the closed door a few metres away. If Ms Tallup found us loitering out here, God knew what she’d do. “Look, we, eh...should probably—”

“I was messaging my dad.” Olin rubbed her sneaker into the floor. “And it wasn’t urgent. I just like to pretend it is.”

I froze, aware that this was privileged information. Somehow, I’d been permitted to learn a secret I doubted any of her other friends knew. “I-I don’t understand.”

Her eyes met mine, sad and resigned. “He sent me a text this morning saying he and Mum are heading away for the weekend. Again.” She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “He didn’t tell me where. Didn’t ask if I wanted to go too. His message didn’t need a response, but...I like to make believe it did. I fool myself that he’s asked about my day, enquired what I want for dinner—basically that he’s a parent who cares that his kid will get home safely from school, even if he won’t be there.”

Ice crept through my veins. “You’re saying you’re alone most of the time?”

She looked away. She laughed softly, amazement on her face. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Why did I tell you that? I’ve never told anyone.” Her gaze met mine, bewildered and a little lost. “Want to know something else? I’m not as young as the other students. I mean, in age I am, but mentally...I feel ancient. You might be two years older, but most nights, I cook my own meals and get myself to bed.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh my God, why can’t I shut up around you? I don’t even know you.”

I didn’t reply for the longest moment, struggling with the urge to drag her close. To erase her loneliness.

But that would be too much, too fast.

She wasn’t invincible like I’d believed. She wasn’t endlessly brave and selfless. She was hurting.

Just like me.

And