Page 150 of Burning Embers
A broken heart, an unreciprocated crush, and this feeling of inadequacy that refuses to go away.
With a huff, I turn away from my reflection and focus back on my Chemistry homework. However, no matter how long I stare at the words on the page, they don’t compute in my brain. I’d have more success reading a book in a foreign language.
I can’t help but think about my Chemistry class a couple of days earlier, when Ansel was called down to the office. When class ended, I was surprised to see him standing at the end of the hall, attempting to console a frail, frantic-eyed woman.
She looked nothing like him, and it took me a solid minute to remember he’s adopted. He has light-brown hair, while hers is black as pitch. His features are strong and angular, and his skin is pale. Hers are petite and elfin, shaded a coppery brown. He towers over her at six feet, hewn from solid stone. Even his muscles have muscles. She looks as if the slightest breeze could carry her away.
A chill works its way down my spine when I remember her cold, acerbic words, notched back and then released like an arrow aimed at its target.
And that target happened to be me.
Poor Ansel.
I still remember the shame distorting his features as he herded his mother outside, his hand on the small of her back. He wouldn’t meet my gaze…and he hasn’t since. I want to tell him that it’s okay, that I understand, that I’m not mad, but I’m not sure if he’ll even believe me.
Besides, does he even want my sympathy? We’re not truly friends, are we?
I rub a hand down my face, suddenly feeling exhausted.
Maybe it isn’t a good idea to meet up with Grayson tonight.
Heaven only knows the mistakes I’ll make because I’m sleep-deprived and upset.
“Knock. Knock.” Jake’s cheerful voice precedes the man himself entering my bedroom.
He’s dressed in a pair of low-slung sweats and a white T-shirt that clings to his muscular physique. His blond hair is wildly tousled, almost as if he has run his hands through it one too many times, but his smile is infectious. I feel an answering one tug up my own lips.
“Most people actually knock on the door instead of just saying the words,” I point out dryly.
He waves a flippant hand in the air. “Semantics.”
He moves farther into the room and throws himself onto my bed, his ankles crossed and his hands behind his head. The movement pulls up the hem of his shirt, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. I have to admit that Jake is hot, in the stereotypical, boy-next-door type of way. It’s a shame that I don’t feel that way about him. He’s certainly better boyfriend material than Grayson or any of my other prospects.
Ugh.
Guys are dumb.
“Why are you dressed so nice?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. A shit-eating grin curls up his lips. “Do you have a date? Is it with Ethan? Please tell me it’s with Ethan. I ship it.”
“Youshipit?” I place a hand on my hip and cock it to the side. “What are you? Twelve?”
“Mentally? Yes.” He doesn’t even blink. “But seriously, is it with Ethan?”
I tap at his legs, indicating for him to move them, and he pulls them back, allowing me enough space to sit down.
I cross my legs and blow out a breath. “No, it’s not a date. And it’s not with Ethan. I’m…meeting someone tonight.”
A surge of heat floods my cheeks.
“Sounds mysterious. Who is it?” He sits upright and rests his chin on his pulled-up knees, a picture of innocence.
A part of me wants to tell Jake about Grayson and everything that’s going on with him. I know Jake will have my back. However, another part of me is afraid of what he’ll say. More than likely, he’ll tell me to let Grayson go, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to. Grayson has been a part of my life since I was a young girl, and losing him would be the equivalent of severing a limb.
Can I survive without a leg? Yes. Do I want to? No. No, I don’t.
Grayson’s a part of me. He’s wiggled his way past my defenses and carved a niche for himself in my soul. I can’t comprehend a future without him, and I don’t know if I want to.
“Can we talk about something else?” I plead, shoving my hands together in the universal prayer position. I bat my lashes for added effect. “Pretty please?”