Red Hair, Black Soul (Red & Black #1)

27 | Matters

Jed

It's amazing how wide Fiona's eyes can get.

I found myself on the receiving end of her bewilderment quite a few times already, but right now, I think it's a climax.

She stares at me for entire fifteen seconds before she finally dares to blink. A frown makes its way onto her face and she pulls back so abruptly her forehead almost knocks against mine. I remain in my kneeling position as she falls back onto her bottom, landing in a pile of fallen leaves. I fight the smile threatening to curl my lips up as she reaches out and grasps handfuls of the leaves, then throws them at me.

"Don't." She says, reaching out for another portion of ammunition. "And w-w-why would you even kiss me?"

I sit back on my haunches and smile with ease. "I can think of many reasons."

I can see her breath is still shaky when she releases it slowly. "Please don't kiss me." She says.

I arch a brow. I don't know if I'm more confused or hurt or amused. "You know, this is the first time a girl has ever said those words to me? I mean, I've heard the compilation quite a few times, but the word 'don't' thrown in between them is -"

"Exactly." Fiona sits up straighter, as if what I just said had given her back her confidence. "I'm not one of those girls. Never will be."

My brows pull in together. The certainty in her voice worries me. "Should I take it as an offend on my behalf?"

"Not really." She shakes her head. "I'm just not the type to... You know."

"No. I don't know." And I really don't. Right now, I have absolutely no idea what Fiona's talking about.

She sighs and drops her gaze, glueing it to the hand tracing patterns in the leaves. She looks uncomfortable having this discussion but hell with it. I didn't like it when she said she was never going to be one of those girls, as if the idea of getting close to me was repulsive to her.

"Fiona, talk to me."

She tips her head back and lets out a strangled sound, something between a whimper and a groan. "I'm just not the friendly type." She finally utters.

I blink. "I beg to disagree. I enjoy being friends with you."

"We're not even friends." She objects. "You just feel sorry for me because I don't have anyone else to talk to and Makena had probably made you stick around so that I don't look pathetic."

Wait. What? I blink again.

"You -" I can't even say it. "You think I talk to you because I feel sorry for you?"

Fiona sniffs and nods. "And also because you want Everett to give you a ride in his shiny Chevrolet."

My mouth hangs open. I can't help it. I stare at her long enough that she finally gives in and looks at me. And when she does, all air is punched from my lungs. Because I see it.

She believes it. She actually fucking believes this bullshit. However the idea had even gotten inside her read head, she accepted it and chose to believe it. And I can't help but wonder if I was the one who has somehow put it there.

"Uhm - well." Fiona clears her throat. "This has gotten awkward." As always when she's nervous her rough Scottish accent thickens, leaving me, an American of blood and bone, struggling to understand her words.

"I think... Yeah, I think I'll go now." She gets up and brushing off her bottom, bends down to pick up her rollerblades and turns to leave. It takes me two seconds flat to get to my feet, run up to her and block her path.