Brody wouldn’t even speak to her on the drive back to the apartment. After making non-committal noises in response to the few questions she asked him, he crossed his arms and glared out the side window. Anxiety churned in Ames’ belly. She turned on some music, hoping it would soothe her nerves, but when Anita Baker’s voice started flowing from the speakers Brody threw her such an odd look that Ames shut off the radio again. They spent the rest of the ride in silence.
She’d scarcely gotten into her apartment and shut the door before Brody stalked to the middle of the room, whirled around, and stabbed a finger at her through the air. “Ames, what the hell are you thinking dating a guy like that?”
( Read more... )
The first night was always the hardest.
This truth had survived the move between foster homes, car backseats, gutted buildings, alleyways, and various and sundry dives. Ames could still recall the nights she’d spent alone or with Brody hunched in the corners of an unfamiliar space, her body cringing at every sound that stalked past her ears.
Now, as she lay in her comfy new bed with her arms crossed over her stomach and her eyes rolled up to the ceiling, the only thing she heard was her own thoughts battering against the cage of her skull. Somehow, that was even more terrifying.
She glanced at the clock. The readout flickered to three am.
Right. Enough of this.( Read more... )
1. You must be new at lying.
2. What are you looki-- oh. Really?