Twelve

We're at the cemetery again, Rhys and me. It seems we're always here, him more so now than he was before. He's around a lot, actually. I'm scared to admit what that means to my lonely desperate heart. It's dangerous for him to give someone like me so much attention, simply because I don't know if I could ever survive again without it. I don't know how Rhys feels about me, but I know that I need him. In many ways, needing something, in the desperate, chaotic way that I need, is even more powerful than love.

I need the intimacy he offers, no matter how cruel and twisted. I need the comfort he provides by not leaving me alone. I need to feel wanted in the same way he makes me feel it. He gives me a sense of purpose again. A sense of self-worth. I realize how shallow that sounds to most; the idea that I need this wicked strange man to feel worthy, the same man who fucks for his own pleasure, smiles at my pain, and slings insults more times than compliments. I simply don't care how it looks to others because at least one person, no matter how vile, mean, or cruel, finds me worthy. Me. And I know he feels the same even if his twisted lips won't admit it.

Standing from my usual spot at Nana's grave, I look down at Rhys. Something about him feels off from the last time I saw him. I couldn't say why because he hasn't necessarily acted any different than usual, it just seems to be something I know. I can almost feel it. My mood stone has been swirling between brown and periwinkle like it can't make up its mind. Grabbing my backpack, I put a strap over my shoulder. "You hungry?"

Rhys's teeth slide along his lower lip at my question, his eyes working their way from my worn sneakers, slowly up to my face. "I might be."

I don't need to look at my mood stone to know it's turned dark pink at his tone. I don't think he's referring to the same type of hunger as I am. "For food, Rhys. Do you want to get something to eat?"

A loud breath blows from his lips, his baby blues rolling as he stands. I watch as he steps up to my chest, his thumb swiping over my lower lip, roughly grating it against my teeth before his hand drops. "I'll go with you, if that's what you're asking."

"It is." I want him to kiss me, even if it's just with his teeth. But I don't want to ask, so I turn away from him instead, squishing a dandelion into the grass as I start to walk away.

I am jerked backward by my backpack, my feet stumbling over themselves as I try to regain my footing. Bright blond hair and cornflower eyes drop into view as my face is yanked to face the sky by my short ponytail. "If you want a kiss, Hadley, all you have to do is ask."

His lips land on mine in the next breath, his top teeth lightly scraping against my lower lip as he kisses me. The angle hurts my neck and back, but I don't fight it, my left hand rising to touch him. He pushes me away before my fingers make contact, the tips just brushing along a few wild strands. I stumble forward and he chuckles as he passes me. I don't know how he knew I wanted a kiss. I didn't think I'd been that obnoxiously obvious, but I have zero complaints.

I follow him, intermittently watching his back as we walk. He glances over his shoulder at me. "Where are we going?"

I shrug even though he's already facing forward and can't see it. "The diner on Fifth Avenue?"

"Are you asking me or saying that's where you want to go?" He pulls a cigarette from his pocket, and I look over as we pass a couple placing flowers on a tombstone.

Smoke blows behind his head to tease my nostrils. "That's where we're going."

Following the orders of the Seat Yourself sign, we find a spot in the back of the diner at the very end of the submarine-shaped space. Everything is very stereotypically decorated—yellow-and-red seats and tables, striped uniforms, and an open kitchen. It's old-fashioned and maybe a little disgusting if you look too closely at things, but the atmosphere is homey. Grabbing a "daily specials" menu from between the ketchup and mustard bottles, I peek at Rhys over the laminated edge. I'm guessing since it's laminated, the daily specials are the same every day.

"Are you going to look at the menu or keep being a weirdo?" His eyes find mine as he settles back in his seat, and I purse my lips. He wasn't even looking at me.

A waitress walks by, her arms full with two trays of food and a wide smile cast our way. "One minute, honey, and I'll be right with you."

I offer her a small smile, turning my attention back to the menu. Dinner decided, I slip it back between its spot by the condiments. "Are you not getting anything?"

Rhys shakes his head, his fingers tapping on the back of the booth. "I'm going to smoke." He slips from the booth as I watch him, my heart picking up just the slightest bit at the thought that he might be ditching me. It shouldn't matter, but it does. His hand reaches out to chuck under my chin, the straight line of his teeth peeking from between his lips. "I'll be right back."

The touch was hardly sweet, but my chin chases after his fingers as he pulls them away. "Okay." Twisting in my seat, I watch him walk out the door. I can just barely see him standing on the other side of it.

Turning back around, my hands twist in my lap as I wait for the waitress to come back. Looking out the window to my right, my reflection stares back at me. Raising a hand, I smooth a few flyaways that have managed to escape my ponytail and pull the sleeves of my hoodie over my palms when I look away. The waitress from before pops in front of the table with a glass of water that is set in front of me, and I return the smile she gives me.

"What can I get you, honey?" Her pen is ready at her notepad, her pretty brown eyes shifting to look at another booth when someone raises their hand.

"Uh, can I get the club sandwich?"

"Sure, what kind of side do you want? Chips or fries?" Her eyes bounce between my face and the notepad.

"Fries, please."

"Got it. Anything else? Something besides water?"

My eyes shift from her to look out the front door where I last saw Rhys. "Water is fine, but can you bring another glass?"

She nods, tucking her pen and notepad into the apron wrapped around her waist. "Of course. Is someone meeting you? I can hold on to your order until they get here."

Frowning, I shake my head at her. "No, he's already here. He's just outside."

"Oh! I didn't see anyone here with you, but I'm running on two hours of sleep so that could explain it. Sorry, honey. I'll get your food out for you and get that water brought over."

She spins away from me with another smile, moving toward another booth. She's clearly sleep deprived but seems nice. Another ten minutes or so go by, and she sets a glass of water and my food onto the table with a quick "Let me know if you need anything else," just before Rhys comes back inside. I didn't see him come back in, but he flops into the booth across from me, smelling like tobacco and smoke.

"You were outside a while." I take a bite of my fry, watching him watch me. We've never done anything like this before, something as mundane as eat in public. Seems like neither one of us knows how to act.

His arms stretch onto the back of his seat as he leans back, a smirk on his lips. "Tell me more about your nana."

I swallow down my fry, picking my sandwich up with a slight shake in my fingers and a yellow glow in my ring. "Why are you so interested in her?"

He shrugs, his eyes wandering over the other people in their booths. "I sit on her grave with you almost every day. Seems like I should get to know the lady."

Taking a bite, I consider his answer. I guess it makes sense. "I moved in with my nana after the fire. I had only met her a few times before that, so it was weird at first, but my nana was a very persistent lady. She burrowed and wormed her way into my trust. She was kind, probably one of the kindest people I've ever met. She was always trying to help people, always lending a hand whenever she could. I don't know how she did it, but she somehow made everyone feel important. She had a way about her that just called to people." I eat a fry, my gut feeling tight and nauseous over the conversation. "She made me feel wanted and loved and accepted from the moment I stepped into her life, even if it took me a bit to trust what I was feeling."

Rhys's eyes follow my hand as I grab my glass of water, flicking from my fingers to my face. "Why didn't you know her before that? Before the fire, I mean."

Setting the glass down, I trail my finger through the wet ring of condensation that's accumulated on the tabletop. "From what I could get out of Nana, she and my father weren't close."

"Why?" My chest pinches at his question, my eyes slightly narrowing. He knows this isn't a subject I like to talk about and he's deliberately pushing my boundaries.

"I don't know."

His arms drop from the back of the seat, his elbows resting on the tabletop. "I think you do."

I push my plate off to the side, no longer hungry because of the conversation. "How could you possibly know what I know? How could you know anything?" I realize my voice has raised to an inappropriate level with my anxious anger, and a few heads turn my way. I force back a low breath to calm myself. I'm letting him work me up over nothing.

"You're telling me you really have absolutely no idea?" He's goading me, a smirk twisting his face into something ugly and cruel.

"No. I don't."

He must hear the finality in my voice because he leans back again, lips settling into a line. "What started the fire then? If you're not going to give me the juicy details of your family drama, then you got to give me something."

I huff, my eyes looking anywhere but at him as that knot in my stomach increases. "I don't have to give you anything, actually."

He flicks the side of my head, forcing my gaze to his face. "Come on, Hadley, spill your dirty secrets for me." He leans over the table, his chest pressed into the edge so he can whisper into my face. "Who started the fire, weirdo?"

I jerk out of the booth the second the words pass his lips, and he cackles at my reaction, standing as I angrily grab my backpack and toss cash onto the table. Turning without looking at him, I stomp past all the other booths toward the exit. My waitress says something to my back, but I don't hear it, pushing outside into the cold. I know Rhys is following me. I can feel him right on my heels, but I don't look. At least not until he grabs my wrist at the back of the parking lot and forces me to.

"Come on, you know I'm joking."

I stare at the zipper on his jacket, refusing to look into his face. I'm angry without a doubt, but also confused by my reaction. I don't know why I don't want to answer his questions, but for some reason I can't. I don't think I could get the words past my lips even if I wanted to. The thought alone makes me nauseous. "Well, it wasn't funny. Not to me."

His fingers pinch into my skin as he lifts my jaw, bringing my eyes off his chest and to his face. "I didn't peg you for a crybaby." I slap his hand away, trying to get away from him but he doesn't let me. My hoodie is fisted at my chest, and I'm tugged up onto my toes, his angry dark eyes meeting mine. "Get your shit together, Hadley. If you lose it, we both do."

He lets go of me, letting me stumble forward as he steps out of my space and out of reach. He turns away from me without another word, disappearing as I stand there in the dark parking lot, wondering what the fuck just happened.