Delicate ✔

Chapter Twenty

   My hand flies to my mouth as if it is trying to force my words back down my throat. After a moment, his well-know smirk finally returns to his face after what seems like forever. He shakes his head, obviously letting my words inflate his ego. In some way, I find his smirk to be cute. It is just so him. He wouldn't be the same if he didn't do it. Which is why, I am relieved to see it. He was serious. The tension in the room had been enough to kill me. However, my relief is quickly pushed away.

"I didn't mean that," I narrow my eyes at him. "Stop looking at me like that."

He feigned innocence. "Like what?," he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"Like you're laughing at me," I hiss. "Do you always have to be so full of yourself?"

Now he is confused. "Full of myself? Aubrey, you said that you would like to kiss me again. I just think It's funny because I was thinking the same thing."

"Oh," shame burns in my cheeks.

"I like you, you know?," Justin says when I turn my head, looking at the window It's raining now. "I just didn't tell you because I thought you were kind of indifferent about me."

"I know," I mutter.

"Know what?," he asks, confused.

"That you like me," I look up after a moment. "Nathan told me. Please don't tell him I said anything though."

"Did he now?," Justin murmurs. "Little brat."

I frown. "And I'm not indifferent about you, Justin. I'm just not sure about what I'm feeling."

He takes a step closer to me, as if he's about to embrace me, but I step back. My mind scrambles for an excuse. I'm not sure why I did step back from him. Nervousness?

"You need to finish your homework."

He purses his lips, but complies. He scoops up his homework after he sits back down on my bed. I push my hair back and over to one shoulder. I fiddle with the end of my hair, listening to the silence in the room. The tingles he left upon my lips have gone. I tentatively sit down beside him. He doesn't react in the slightest. Several minutes later, he tosses his notebook to the floor, finished.

"Did you really need help on your homework?," I ask in an accusing tone.

"No," he snorts. "I'm not bad at school. I could make straight A's if I wanted, you know? I just don't really care."

"You should care," I pout.

He smiles slightly. "I'm passing all of my classes with C's. I'm fine with them. Everyone I've know has always had low expectations for me anyway."

I cross my arms. "I don't."

He shrugs, then lets out a yawn. He stretches his arms above his head as he does.

"I don't know about you--," he yawns again. "But I'm tired. I'm going to bed," he declares, rising to his feet.

"Justin?," I question. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm," he turns to look at me.

"How do you afford to buy cigarettes. I mean, you don't have a job."

He raises an eyebrow. "I'm a drug dealer."

I swiftly stand to my feet, furious. "What?"

He chuckles. "Calm down, Aubrey. I'm just kidding. There had been some money in my mom's dresser before she died. And I.. uh, I took it," he admits, embarrassed. "Lee sometimes would lend me some too. I would like to get a job though. Do you think your mom would let me?"