Page 6 of Madness Blooms
I flash a dazzling smile, showcasing my dimples. “I’m new around here,” I say, extending my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, um …”
She hesitates a moment before reluctantly accepting my outstretched hand. “Grace Lawrence,” she replies, giving me a tentative shake. “And you?”
“Luke Quinn,” I reply with practiced confidence.
Andrea returns with Bunny’s meal. Bunny murmurs an appreciative thanks, sliding the paper aside to make room for her food. She then picks up a fork and stares at her plate, lost in thought.
After a prolonged moment, she states, “There’s a free booth over there. If you want to—I mean, if that’s okay with you …”
I chuckle softly, and her face turns beet red. “I would love to join you.”
Hook, line …
Flustered, Bunny grabs her plate and glass before standing up. She cringes a bit—from the ankle she fucked up when she fell during our fun game of chase—but tries to compose herself. Poorly, I might add. I pretend not to notice as I follow her to the empty booth in the corner. She places her bag beside her as I take the seat across from her. After taking a sip of her orange juice, she begins picking at her food.
“How long have you been living here?” Bunny asks, clearing her throat. I notice a faint red mark on her neck, the one I surely left on her. “I … I hope I’m not being rude in asking.”
Is it going to scar? I sure fucking hope so.
I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling as I remember the look of shock and disbelief on her face when I pressed my knife into her neck. “A month or so.” Not entirely a lie. “Seems like I have bad timing, though, considering what’s being reported in the paper and on the news.” I give her a gentle smile, hoping to ease her nerves and chip away at her defenses.
“Yeah, definitely,” she agrees, almost to herself. She absentmindedly touches her neck, but quickly withdraws her hand when she realizes what she’s doing. “If one could get out of this town, I think now would be the time.”
Was that a Freudian slip? Bunny eats her bacon in silence as I finish my coffee. I can’t let her leave—not now, and not in the way she wants. She’s the key to what I’m looking for.
I won’t easily let this chance slip away, not when I’m closer than ever.
As I adjust my position, I cross my legs and intentionally brush against her injured ankle. She winces, and I scrunch my face in pretend concern. Note to self: Bunny is terrible at hiding her emotions, and I’mdefinitelygoing to use that to my advantage. “Are you okay?” I ask.
Bunny forces a tight smile and admits, “I’m fine. I just took a spill and messed up my ankle at work.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out thin and strained as she adds, “I’m such a klutz sometimes.”
My brow lifts. “How do you wipe out so badly working at a jewelry store?”
As expected, her posture goes rigid and the muscles of her jaw flutter. What Bunny doesn’t know is that I have been watching her for some time now. And for what reasons, she’ll never know—not until it’s too late, anyway.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, waving my hands in a fake show of remorse. “I forgot to mention that I’ve seen you before. At the mall. You work at Angelo’s.”
“I see.” She shoves a forkful of eggs into her mouth. I can almost see the thoughts bouncing around in that pretty skull of hers. She finishes chewing before suddenly offering me her toast. “Have you eaten? You can have this if you want.”
I cannot hide the incredulous look on my face. “Sure,” I say, shrugging as I accept her modest offering. As I take the toast from her, I graze her hand, causing crimson to slash across her face, highlighting the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks.
“Do you have any painkillers on you, by the way?” I ask. “It feels like someone’s stabbed me in the head.”
“Uh, yeah.” She averts her gaze and fixates on a spot on the table as if it’s the most amazing thing since the invention of the light bulb. “Is aspirin okay?”
I nod in response, and she rummages through her bag, placing a bottle of water and a Discman on the table. Her movements are unstable, twitchy—like she’s cracking under the pressure of my pointed gaze.
We can’t have Bunny be too relaxed, can we?
Her arm jerks, causing a journal to fly out of her grasp. “Shit,” she mutters as she bends down to retrieve it—but not before she’s pinned into place by my touch, our hands coming into contact as I attempt to grab it for her.
I sneak a peek at the open pages. Covering them are words scrawled in black ink, probably some ‘dear diary’ drivel. But more interesting is the drawing underneath the entry: a crude sketch ofmymask, of all things. When she catches me staring, she snatches the journal away, tensing her jaw. I feign nonchalance, feeling a surge of pride.
I’m so thrilled to have made such an impact on you, Bunny—in more ways than one.
I choke down a snicker as she flails, snapping the notebook shut before shoving it into her bag. With trembling fingers, she retrieves the bottle of pills and hands me two. She gestures silently to the water and pushes it gingerly toward me.
I take a napkin from the dispenser, set the toast aside, and pick up the pills. “Thank you, Grace. I truly appreciate your kindness.” I wink at her for good measure, hoping to rile her up even more.