Caging her in like last time, he blocked the entrance with his frame. “Hey, darlin’.”
She looked up at him, startled.
Pulling out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips, making the stick bounce as he said, “I hear you’re still saying you’re a germaphobe. Have you ever thought of telling the truth just once?” He lit the end with his Zippo.
Averting her gaze to the pressure she made in her hands, her soft, unsure voice settled something inside of him. “I-It’s not a lie.”
Prove it then.
Taking a few steps forward, he stood over her, holding out his hand. “Come on, darlin’; just try it once.”
If he still prayed, he would have in this moment. Watching her stare at the hand in front of her, he needed her desperately to just reach out and touch it.
Being too focused on her face, Lucca almost missed it—the slightest movement of her hand moving toward his before she stopped.
“I c-can’t.”
What she had just done was a sign. She feels it, too. Even if she was ignoring it, there was no denying there was an electrifying pull between them.
His voice took a commanding tone, not wanting any more lies, as he asked, “Why can’t you?”
Her eyes met his, looking up through her dark lashes as she whispered her secret, “Because I’m afraid to.”
She feared touch. That was something he knew from the beginning, but getting her to admit it to him was something he needed if they were ever going to get her to overcome it one day. He needed her to begin to trust him with her secrets.
He took a seat on the chair in front of her. “That wasn’t so bad, darlin’.” Taking a hit off his cigarette, he wanted more. “It’s summer now, and you’re still wearing long sleeves.”
She gave no answer, but watching her check their length and pull down the sleeves of her black dress was all he needed to know he had been right again. Not once had he seen her in short sleeves, no matter the weather, which told him she was hiding something beneath the material.
Catching her eyes moving over him showed him some part of her was still intrigued by him.
Wanting to intrigue her even more, he pulled out his Zippo, flipping it open. It didn’t take long to charm her with the glow weaving through his fingers.
“Are you going to college?”
“Yes, of course.”
He began to weave faster. The importance of this question was something she wasn’t going to be able to understand yet. “Where?”
“Stanford … in California.” She talked so easy when she was entranced by him, no stuttering.
He shut the lighter off with a flick, having got what he needed. “That’s awfully far, darlin’. I guess you do get to keep running.” Standing, he looked down at her again, taking in everything he could about her until the next time. It made the wait less painful.
Holding her breath, she didn’t move.
The marks on her face had him thinking about what Lake had just told her.
“She is right, you know. Those scars are beautiful.”
He had dreamed of touching them every day, and he was envisioning doing it right now. Touch her scar … the darkness whispered.
Walking away from her before he did something he would regret was him walking away from his dreams. For a moment, he had almost felt what it would be like to touch her. For a moment, he had almost felt what it would be like to be with her. It was the most blissful thing he had ever felt in his existence…
Opening his eyes, there was no inkling of a doubt in his mind that, “She will always be.”
Twelve
The Freak and the Boogieman
It was now a week since her and Lucca’s arrangement had been made, and she had already grown used to the schedule of living there. Her days were spent keeping herself busy with schoolwork, which was surprisingly nice as she spent them alone. Well, as alone as she could be with Drago watching her.
Her fear of being there ceased, and she couldn’t even admit it to herself, yet a part of her was learning to be happy. Since her scars, she had feared for her life, not only at school, but her home, too. To be in fear almost every moment of your life for years was something she’d had to grow used to, to keep her sanity. She had almost forgotten what it was like not to feel that way.
Chloe had hoped to achieve that at Stanford, but she still feared being all alone there, surrounded by new people who would stare at her like she was a freak. That didn’t happen at Lucca’s. She was never stared at nor treated like a freak because … here, with Lucca, I’m just like him. We’re both monsters.
The freak and the boogieman.
She didn’t mind dinners with him anymore, either. They were quite peaceful in each other’s company, and Lucca was a surprisingly good cook. If she didn’t have to sit next to him every night, he wouldn’t even bother her.
There was only one thing she truly missed, and that was Elle. Yes, she missed Amo, Nero, and even Vincent, too; but she had never been this long without talking to her best friend, and it was starting to get to her.
If Elle were here, it might not be …
Pushing away the thought, she went back to the now finished assignment she had struggled with for hours. She went to submit it when a chat box appeared on her screen.
They are all wrong except for #8. Try again.
What the …?
Chloe blinked at the screen, seeing if she was just exhausted from working on it all morning. However, the chat box was still there, proving her wrong.