Page 163 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
I toyed with a few words. “I don’t think there's a word for it.”
“Try me.”
“I can’t,” I ground out, “if the words don’t exist.”
“You want to know why I like words?”
I did, but I didn’t tell her that.
She continued, anyway, “I love words, because they're mine. Utterly, completely mine. I can share them with others. I can keep them to myself. I can use them over and over again. No matter what I do, they’ll always be mine. No one can take them from me. Want to know what the best part is?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“The existence of a word proves that someone in the history of humanity felt the same way I did and gave it a name. It means we’re not alone. If there’s a word for what we're feeling, we’re never alone.”
“Tell me how you feel about my dad.”
“Lacuna.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Lacuna is a blank space. A missing part.”
Bullseye.
I eyed the screen, where Keanu Reeves was running through New York City, bleeding out of every orifice.
When I didn’t answer, she asked, “Truth or dare?”
“Neither. You had your turn.”
“You didn’t answer the question.” She inched closer, wanting to know so much about me when no one ever did. “Truth or dare?”
“Just fucking ask the question.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “I know you want to.”
“Why don’t you kiss?”
Everyone has had a piece of me. This is one I don't have to give away.
I could taste her breath. I turned my face, not because I didn’t want to be kissed, but because I did. That itself was a foreign feeling. Most people didn’t have shit I liked to hear, and the mouth was the biggest perpetrator of disappointment.
Kissing disgusted me.
But kissing Emery?
It didn’t.
Batshit, considering I’d stopped long ago. When I started the illegal underground fights, I came home with cuts and bruises I tried to hide under clothes. I’d cover for them by fighting at school, letting everyone assume they came from football tackles and field tussles.
The kiss thing started because my body would get too bruised to be touched. It transformed into a general disdain for people touching me. Why the fuck would I let someone I couldn’t stand touch me?
“I kissed you, didn’t I?” I shot back, keeping it light.
“Yeah, you did.” Her eyes dipped to my lips, holding the heavy gaze. She smiled suddenly and stretched, standing up. “I have to go. The bus leaves soon.”
“This again. It's late and dark. I’m taking you home.”
“I’m going to Eastridge.” She popped a brow. “You’ll take me to Eastridge?”
Shit, I promised Ma I'd stay away while Reed visited. But Ma would tell me to make an exception. The Greyhound to Eastridge was long with too many shady stops along with way.
I stole a card from Emery's deck, watching her gather her things. “Yes, but I need something from you.”
