Whisper (Novella) by Crystal Green

Author:Crystal Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-12-18T16:00:00+00:00

6

At first, all I saw were his dark, dark eyes, which seemed so wounded and surprised at the same time, then black hair that was cut short in the back, leaving the long hank in front to flop over his forehead. The last thing that registered with me were the high cheekbones sculpting a face that was both familiar and unfamiliar, a face that was almost too rough to be handsome.

The guy I’d caught a glimpse of at the party last night, I thought. The one who just disappeared into the crowd.

Then I pictured him with a knit cap, an army jacket, and work boots.

Bret.

I’d seen him working on the yard at my house but had never really known he was there. He’d been right about no one ever noticing him, but why would he have stood out when he’d always kept his head down, always kept—as I said—to the shadows?

“It’s you,” I murmured, even though I should’ve always known.

He didn’t say anything at first. It was like he had become one of the pictures he’d posted on TellTale and there were a million messages written over him for me to read clearly: I wish she hadn’t turned around. I don’t know if she’s going to stay or go. What now?

I was in such a confused haze that I found myself walking away, just so I could flee from this loud music and from a situation that was suddenly very real. I walked down the stairs, through the red lights and the dancing kids and out the door into the cool night air.

Bret caught up with me as the bouncer closed the door after us, and when I looked at him again, it seemed like he had so much to say without any idea how to say it.

But hadn’t he already confessed to me that this was why he’d used TellTale in the first place?

“Everything you told me,” I said. “Was it . . . for real? Or is this just a game?”

He sent me a lowered look, his hands fisted at his sides. Moonlight barely touched him, making him seem dark, lonelier than ever, like a guy who wrote self-destructive songs and listened to the lyrics on the wind as they came to him. “Every bit of this is real. Why would you think it wasn’t?”

“Because . . .” I was about to say that normal guys didn’t romance girls like this. But what was normal anymore?

And hadn’t I met him here because it wasn’t normal and I’d been craving some of that?

A profound sense of discomfort attacked me. Funny that I hadn’t been this unsettled back when I didn’t know who my secret admirer was, back when I thought I’d been at my most vulnerable. Little had I known that I’d be ten time more exposed and vulnerable now, person-to-person.

I wished I could shut a door on all of this, but then again, what was new?

Yet I was so tired of hiding away. So tired. And Bret had helped me to see that .

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