Page 130 of Burning Embers

Oh god.

I scan the article for more information but come up blank.

My breaths are embarrassingly choppy as I slip my phone into my backpack.

Breathe, Izzy. You need to breathe.

But it’s hard to get air into my closed lungs.

Two girls are dead. Murdered.

And I was there both times.

Tears scorch the backs of my eyes, but sheer determination keeps them at bay. I refuse to let them fall.

The class begins to fill up, and the teacher hustles into the room seconds later, her wire-framed glasses sliding down her nose and her hair in a frizzy bob.

“All right, class! You all should be finishing up your assignments for this week. You only have a few more days until it’s due. I’ll give you time?—”

The door to the classroom is thrown open, and Reid steps inside. I swear every student releases a collective gasp at the huge man’s presence.

His lanky, dark-red hair falls forward over one eye, and he sweeps it away with the back of his hand.

“Reid. Why don’t you go take your seat?” The teacher smiles kindly at him, though I notice she grimaces a little as he passes.

Still, her reaction is better than most of the students in the classroom. Almost every single person stares at Reid with thinly veiled disgust and disdain.

I haven’t talked with Reid since his panic attack a couple of weeks ago. For the most part, our work schedules don’t seem to align.

I can’t help but wonder if that’s on purpose, especially once I figured out Reid is in charge of creating the shift schedule.

He can hate me all he wants, but that won’t stop me from befriending him, dammit.

I smile at him as he takes the seat beside me, trying desperately to ignore the pungent scent that wafts off of him in almost tangible waves. I notice he looks crappier than usual today, which is saying something.

His skin is pale—so pale that his acne stands out starkly—and purple shadows underscore each of his eyes.

I can’t help but comparethisReid to the one I saw a picture of from years before.

ThatReid was lithe but muscular, with garnet-colored hair highlighted here and there with gold and tawny brown. He was so handsome it almost seemed unreal—the type of ethereal perfection only achieved by models and actors, not normal high school students.

Obviously, something horrible must’ve happened to him that caused him to fall apart.

I remember the beautiful girl from the theater—Michelle—and feel a pang of jealousy in the center of my chest. I can’t imagine the heartbreak he must’ve felt when she left him.

Why doesn’t he just get back together with her? It’s apparent she wants to, despite his appearance now.

Or maybe they already have. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t been at school lately?—

Rough fingers grab my wrist and then force me to release the death grip I have on the paintbrush.

I turn in surprise to see Reid scowling at me. Despite that, his touch is gentle as he runs his thumb back and forth over my pulse. Goose bumps flutter across my skin, and a strange tendril of warmth unfurls in my belly.

Staring into Reid’s angry face—with the broad forehead, sharp cheekbones, and defined jawline—I can’t help but think he looks…handsome. Maybe it’s the way the sun is slanting through the blinds behind him, illuminating his features in a hazy sheen of gold. Maybe it’s the keenness in his eyes that’s in dichotomy to the softness of his touch. Maybe it’s?—

Reid releases me as if my skin burned him. And with an angry grunt, he focuses once more on his art piece.

Well, then.