“You keep saying how awkward you were and how hard it was for you to talk to people, but it doesn’t make sense to me. You seem okay now.”
“I’m getting better,” I say with a shrug. “Plus, you’re easy to talk to.”
Grinning, he points a finger at me. “That is definitely true.”
“Sometimes I have a hard time figuring out what to say, though, and I end up staring at the person in silence, which makes me come off as either angry or just plain weird.”
We laugh as the cart reaches the bottom and starts to round toward the top again.
“Okay, so now you have to tell me some stuff about you,” I say, relaxing back in the seat.
Seth’s mouth sinks to a frown. “There’s really not much to tell.”
“I doubt that.”
“Okay, you’re right, but my story is…” His gaze falls to his arm again.
That’s when I notice the faint scars crisscrossing his arm, hand, and fingers.
“What happened?” I reach out with my free hand, tracing my fingertip across one of the longer scars marring his forearm.
He shivers from my touch, but quickly pulls away and tucks his arm to his side. “It’s a long story.”
I press my lips together to stop myself from pressing him for details. It’s clearly a touchy subject for him, and I have to wonder if his scars have anything to do with why he’s so skittish about PDA.
“Hold on a second.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and then frowns at the screen. “Shit. I have to go meet up with Callie.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying, but from my angle, it looks like he’s staring at a blank screen.
“That’s cool. Want to catch up later?”
“Maybe.” He puts his phone away then turns to me. “But only if you promise we can ride something that moves faster than a snail.”
“All right. I’m down,” I say, grinning.
We hold hands and talk a bit more as we make the final loop, but Seth quickly pulls away as the carnie approaches us and lets us out. He waves goodbye and I head off to find Jenna and Ari.
I spend the rest of the night hanging out with the two of them and texting Seth. Around midnight, he says he’s sorry, but he won’t be able to meet up tonight, that Callie needs him. I’m a bit confused whether he’s being truthful or running away again. Still, by the end of the night, I’ve texted him so much that it might be a record for me. All the conversations seem to focus on me, though, and I find myself wishing I knew him better. Maybe then I could understand what’s going on in his head. Starting with what the fuck put those scars on his arm.
Chapter 6
Seth
I feel like the most tragic person that’s ever existed. Not only did I act like a spaz when Greyson tried to hold my hand, but then I blew him off. It wasn’t entirely my fault, though. I was planning on meeting up with him later like I said, but then something happened between Kayden and Callie while they were on the playground ride at the carnival. Whatever went down has her looking alternately high as a kite and sullen as a Goth girl.
“So, do you want to share what that weird look on your face is about?” I ask after we make it back to my dorm room.
Callie is spending the night, something she’s been doing a lot lately because her skank-of-a-roommate made a rule that Callie couldn’t enter when a red scarf was hanging on the doorknob. The damn thing practically hangs on the door twenty-four seven, so much that I wonder how the girl can even walk.
Callie remains quiet as I kick off my boots and climb into my unmade bed.
Then she lies down next to me and rests her cheek on the pillow. “You really want to know?’
“Heck, yeah. You look like you’re high.” I roll to my side and prop up on my elbow. “Wait a minute. Is that what you were doing up there? Were you getting high?”
She swats my arm. “No… we were… kissing.”
The look of fear in her eyes causes me to laugh. “You say that like it’s so wrong.”
She shrugs, staring at her hands. “It feels like it should be wrong… the last time someone kissed me, that’s how it felt.”
I sigh. “That’s because the last time it was. But not this time. This time it was right. Both of you wanted it. Right?”
She bites back a smile. “It was a really nice kiss.”
For a brief moment, I feel jealous of her. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed and after what happened, the memories of those kisses feel tainted. With the way Greyson was looking at me tonight, I knew if I went in for the kiss, he would have kissed me back. But once again, I’ve become a walking tragedy and let my past control me.
Knowing I need to be happy for Callie, though, I jump up and bounce on the mattress. “Okay, tell me how it went. What were you doing? And how did it happen?”
She sits up and reclines against the headboard. “He said that whole challenge thing was a setup to get me up there.”
I roll my eyes. When Kayden told us about that lame challenge of seeing who could get through the playground ride first, I knew it was a setup. “Well, duh. I got that they were up to something.”
“Really.” She frowns. “I thought they were just being guys.”
“Oh, they were,” I assure her. “Relax, it was all for fun and he got to kiss you just like he was trying to do the whole night.”
She hugs a pillow to her chest. “Yeah, but did he seem a little offish when we left?”
“He seemed tired, but not offish.”
She fastens her hair into a messy bun. “So, what was that thing with that guy you were talking about?”
My pulse quickens just thinking about Greyson. How easy it was to talk to him. How amazing it felt when he touched my hand. Even though I acted like a weirdo toward the end, it was still a great night.
“We hung out for a while on the Ferris Wheel.” I take out my phone. “I got his phone number earlier and we were texting for like half the night. It was pretty amazing.”
“I’m so happy for you. Are you going to go out with him?”
“Maybe.” Deciding not to dwell on the negative, I relax in the bed and smile. “God, it was such a great night.”
She stares up at the ceiling with a content look on her face. “It really was.”
A few minutes later, I doze off dreaming of Ferris Wheels, soft circles, and the way Greyson kept staring at my lips.
Eventually the dream shifts, though. I’m no longer at the carnival, but on the ground. Feet and fists are slamming against my side as people shout hateful words at me. They don’t even know me; they hate me simply because I’m different. So much hate pollutes the air that I can barely breathe. I use my arm to protect my head from the blows and feel the bones snap as someone stomps on it.