Page 23 of Fractured Mind
He briefly peers off before answering. “You were more outgoing, you never stopped talking and were very stubborn. It was your way or the highway.”
I smile faintly at the stranger he’s talking about. I’m very different now. I’m quiet, reserved, and easygoing. “What else?” I ask, hanging on his every word. I find it strangely fascinating that I’m the same person but grew up in different circumstances.
He looks down then grasps my hand, which increases my heart rate. “Here,” he points out as he runs his finger over the inch-long scar on my hand, beside my thumb knuckle. “You told me you got this scar from trying to make a cake for my eleventh birthday, and this”—he rubs a thumb on my cheek, making me gasp—“is where my cat scratched you when you tried to pat it.”
I chuckle. “Thank you for telling me.” The scars are no longer random marks on my body.
“Since we’re spending time together, can I put my number in your phone?”
I pull back in surprise, then pick up my phone and hand it to him. He puts his number in.
“If you ever want to ask questions, when we aren’t hanging out, just message me.”
“Great, thank you.”
“What’s your favorite color now?”
I take a moment to think.“I guess black or dark blue.”
He brings his legs up and rests his elbows on them. “It used to be pink,” he states, and I scrunch up my face. I like darker colors now.
“What’s your dream job?” he asks.
My future... I cringe. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“You used to change your mind every single day. One day it was a vet, then a musician, then a nurse.”
“I think I was more interesting when I was younger than I am now. How old are you?” I ask curiously.
“Eighteen.”
Makes sense. We are in the same year at school. “Me too.”
He chuckles. “Yes, I know.”
Oh duh.
“Tell me more of what you’ve been up to.”
I give him a strained smile. “School and work.”
He raises a brow and waits a beat, as if giving me time to add to my answer. “What about friends?”
I mentally wince.What friends?“At work I had Nick, and at school I hung around whoever. Between working long hours and looking after Mom and the house, I didn’t have a social life. What about you? Fill me in on what I’ve missed.”
He looks back at the water, lost in thought. “Nothing,” he quips. “Hanging out with friends and going to school.”
“And taking part in illegal bare-knuckle fighting competitions,” I tease.
He turns his face, and the hint of a smile twitches the corner of his lips. “Do you play sports?”
“No. I only go running.”
His eyes grow wide as his face pales.
My face falls from his reaction. “Is everything okay?” I raise my hand to touch him and to comfort him, but I force it back down.
“You still run?” Pain drips from his every word, leaving me confused.