Burn Before Reading Read online

  “Okay, fine.” I threw my hands up. “I was failing on purpose, okay?”

  “So I’d tutor you,” He said quickly. “Why?”

  I forced myself to look at my feet, to conjure a deep, dark blush. How did girls blush again? My brain instantly jumped to that sunlight afternoon in Seamus’s, me in a dress, Wolf’s eyes on me. My face lit up like a bonfire in August.

  “It’s – God, I feel so stupid saying it out loud.”

  I snuck a glance up – Fitz’s curiosity was piqued, his body leaning into mine.

  “Can we not talk about it out in the open like this?” I hissed. Fitz looked around, then pulled me by the arm into a stairwell.

  “Spill it,” He insisted.

  “Because –” I swallowed hard and spat the words out all at once. “IlikeWolf.”

  Fitz’s freckled face lit up, all traces of suspicion gone. “Seriously?” he burst out laughing. “Oh, this is precious. I should’ve seen it earlier with the way you two go at each other’s throats. It’s not just him. It’s you, too. So you decided to fake stupid so I’d tutor you and, what, get you closer to him?”

  My chest squeezed as I nodded. It felt so wrong, lying so intricately like this. But I couldn’t back down now. I couldn’t let him know the truth – he’d figure out I was hired by his dad like Kristin was. He’d tell Burn and Wolf that I was spying, and it would be over. They’d never speak to me again, and Mr. Blackthorn would have no reason to keep my scholarship intact.

  I can’t lose Lakecrest.

  Not now.

  Fitz rubbed his hands together delightedly. “You could’ve said something earlier.”

  “No, I couldn’t have!” I snapped. “You can’t tell him. You can’t tell anyone, or I’ll eat your firstborn. Whenever you have one. Somehow.” There was a pause. “I’ll invent a time machine, wait for you to procreate with some unlucky girl, and then I’ll go into the future and eat your firstborn.”

  Fitz applauded me sarcastically. “Alright, Dr. Who, I get it. My lips are sealed. You aren’t as bad as I thought you were.”

  “What?”

  He sighed. “Listen, our dad’s….an ass. He became even more of an ass when our Mom, you know. So. She was the only one he ever really cared about, not us. It’s hard, living with him. He’s not a nice guy. Burn and Wolf and me are pretty much just buying time until we can move out from under his shitty nose.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “He’s tried to hire hackers to break into our computers and phones to figure out what we’re up to,” Fitz said. “Since we were young. Where do you think I learned to hack? It was trying to counter-hack the guys he hired.”

  Mr. Blackthorn hired hackers to know his kids better? God, rich people were weird.

  “Plus,” Fitz mused. “There was Kristin.”

  I swallowed hard. He just smiled.

  “She was a bit of a bitch. She agreed to rat us out to our Dad in exchange for, I dunno. Whatever Dad can give people. Lots of stuff, I guess. But I saw right through her – comes with territory of being a smooth criminal myself, you know? She was a two-faced liar.”

  I nodded, trying to tame the shaking in my hands as Fitz smiled.

  “Look, you want my help hooking you up with Wolf, and I’ve got your back. I know for a fact he’s at the Auto Shop garage at this very moment. Let’s go say hi.”

  “But –”

  “No buts! I’m your official love-coach, starting…” He looked down at his expensive watch. “…now! Let’s go.”

  How could I protest? If I didn’t go, he’d get suspicious again. If I did, and came face-to-face with Wolf after what I heard him say about me – I don’t know how well I could pretend to like him in front of Fitz. But it seemed like I didn’t have a choice, because Fitz grabbed my hand and led me across campus like an unwilling sheep to the slaughter.

  The Auto garage was quiet, the doors open. Wolf was the only one there, crouched at the wheels of his bike, a wrench and tuning rod at his feet. He’d taken the blazer of his uniform off, his shirt loose and open a few buttons at his collar, the white of it streaked with oil and flakes of rust.

  “Wolf!” Fitz called. He turned, dark hair mussed and a bit of oil streaked on his cheek. His jade eyes narrowed at us. Fitz pushed me towards him and whispered a ‘good luck’ before trotting back out.

  “What are you doing here?” Wolf’s voice was laced with flame.

  “I live here,” I said. “In spirit. Like a ghost. I haunt this garage, basically – quick, somebody call ghostbusters!”

  I made spooky ‘wooo’ noises until Wolf scoffed and turned his attention back to his bike.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “A pathetic one,” I agree. “Some might even say…pitiable.”

  Wolf stopped raising the wrench to his bike’s wheel. “You heard me talking at Seamus’s?”

  “I was right behind you guys,” I say lightly. “I heard every word.”

  His hands worked the wrench, obviously preferring silent labor to confrontation with me. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

  “You know, for future reference, showing up at a girl’s house, helping her out with a complicated-yet-dire situation by claiming to take her out on a date, and then calling her ‘pathetic’ behind her back to your brothers might not be the best way to get someone to like you.”

  “I don’t need or want you to like me,” He snapped.

  “Good, because it’ll never happen.” I said it so strongly that I could’ve sworn he flinched. But Wolf Blackthorn didn’t flinch. Not because of the words of girls he thought pathetic, anyway. I noticed his wrenching had slowed, and my irritation exploded. “You’re doing that wrong.”

  I grabbed another wrench from a nearby table and squatted next to him. Wolf, as always, made space between our bodies instantly, and I took his absence as an opportunity to do things right myself.

  “You have to take the backplate off if you want to rotate the bolts anywhere beyond 180 degrees,” I said. “Otherwise you’re just stripping the transmission cap.”

  “I know that,” He spun one of his rings furiously. “How do you know that?”

  “It isn’t exactly hard to open a book and study,” I said. “It’s what got me in here, and it’s what’ll get me out of here.”

  “Is that all you think about? College?”

  “High school is pointless,” I wrench harder. “We sit around, teachers tell us what to do, what blanks to fill out, we go home, and the cycle repeats. We have no control over our lives – we can’t do anything except what they tell us to, or we get in trouble. It’s bullshit. Nothing here is real, or impactful. So yeah, I can’t wait to get out to college, where I can do what I want to, the way I want to.”

  “The professors in college are the same way,” Wolf insisted.

  “But at least you’re working towards a degree. At least you’re amassing tons of knowledge that’s useful for what you want to do when you graduate. High school is the equivalent of macaroni pictures and fingerpainting. I want poetry from the greats, I want math no one’s heard of, I want philosophy from Greek masters and psychology from actual brain scientists. I want the real thing, not the imitation.”

  Wolf scoffed. “There’s this thing called baby steps. Taking it one day at a time. Ever heard of it?”

  “I don’t have time,” I muttered. “And I can’t afford to take baby steps. Not when I needed to have been running marathons by now.”

  Wolf frowned, dark hair falling in his eyes that he pushed away immediately. “You can’t run marathons without training for them, first.”

  “Okay, this metaphor sucks and I’m discontinuing it.”

  “I thought it was passable,” Wolf said. “Not going to even throw it in the bargain bin? Straight to trash?”

  “Straight to trash. Put myself in there too, while I’m at it,” I agreed. I worked my fingers into the back of the transmission chain, feeli
ng for the nut I had to replace. I gritted my teeth – it was just beyond my reach. “Almost…there…”

  Everything happened in a split-second; I put my weight on my other palm, which was balancing on the bike’s foothold. Something metallic snapped - I later realized it’d been the kickstand – and the bike came careening down on me. I had just enough time to pull my hands out and throw them up to shield my face. This was it – this was how I died, my irrational fear-brain screamed at me; crushed under the three hundred pound bike of my worst nemesis. My last thought? I hoped Dad found a better daughter than me; one who didn’t spy on three motherless boys and snitch on them to their asshole father.

  But nothing hurt. No pain came. There was the sound of the bike crashing to the floor, and then silence. I squinted, a blurry slice of white and black fabric in front of me. I could feel warmth all around me, arms cradling me like a protective cage. My face was buried in a chest – white t-shirt, smelling like motor grease and cinnamon and sweat. Someone’s Adam’s apple bobbed just above me, and my eyes widened.

  Wolf.

  Wolf held me close, the bike splayed on its side. With the way we were angled, I realized he got in between it and me. It must’ve hit his back on its way to the floor.

  “Are you alright?” I felt his voice rather than heard it – rumbling just near my ear.

  “I’m f-fine,” I started. Wolf was holding me. Did the crash punt me through a rip in space-time into another dimension? One where he wasn’t phobic of touching people? His smell and his voice and the sight of the delicate skin of his throat entranced me, like it did that time in the pool building. That moment felt frozen in time, neither of us moving, both of us too incredulous at our entwined state. We were both breathing like rabbits – fast and shallow.

  “Y-You can let go, now.” I tried. I felt his arms around me tighten. His whole body was shaking – I could see it from the tips of his dark hair down to the vibration of his fingers on my shoulders.

  “No,” He muttered, hoarse. “Help me.”

  “With what?” I tried.

  “You’re the shrink-wannabe,” He said. “Help me. This is the first time since – ”

  He swallowed hard, the words dying on his lips. He was right – I was the shrink wannabe. As weird as this situation was, I could help. This was the first time in a long time, apparently, that he’d touched someone like this. Think, Bee! Remember what the books said about exposure therapy, how to handle it, what to say -

  “What do you need me to do?” I asked softly.

  “Just…stay like this,” He murmured. “For a while. With me.”

  By all rights I should’ve stood up and left. I was just going over my hate for him in my head not twenty minutes ago! I should’ve left. But I couldn’t – not when he was shaking so hard. And to tell you the truth, a part of me liked being hugged like this; er, if you could call it a hug. It was so desperate and encompassing it felt more like…an embrace. But it was warm, and nice, having another person so close you could hear their heartbeat.

  I rested my head on his chest, slowly, afraid I might spook him. He didn’t start, or move, but his heartbeat sped up, so fast I could’ve sworn a dozen butterflies were trapped in his ribcage.

  “Is…is this okay?” I asked. I felt him nod above me.

  “Y-Yeah.”

  A part of me was vaguely aware what this would look like if Mr. Finch - or worse, Fitz – walked in. But another part of me didn’t care. As long as this was helping, as long as Wolf was comfortable, it was fine. Except he wasn’t comfortable, clearly. His body was fighting him every inch of the way to hold me like this, I could feel it in his tensed muscles. But he was trying his best. Phobias involving the sense of touch often evolved from severe PTSD, or at least that’s what that one textbook told me. Mark must’ve been fucking terrible to Wolf. I started to hate him, wherever he was, as Wolf trembled around me and above me.

  “Would it help if I talked?” I asked. “We could have a conversation. It might distract you.”

  “About what?” He struggled from between gritted teeth.

  “I could just blather on. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m good at that. Or we could talk about anything that’s been on your mind.”

  There was a silence. I looked up at him; I knew his jawline was sharp, but up close I felt like I could cut myself on it.

  “The dress,” He started. “I never got to say that it looked…good. On you. I mean, you looked pretty. In it.”

  He struggled on the exhale, like he was annoyed with himself. It was strange to hear the immaculately poised Blackthorn brother, the boy who ruled this school with an iron thumb and his red-cards, speak so brokenly. His compliment was late, but it bloomed like a warm, embarrassed flower in my chest. I’d been so afraid of it, before, but hearing it in real life actually felt nice.

  I couldn’t let it get to me, though. He was still definitely Wolfgang Blackthorn, and he’d said I was pathetic. If nothing else, this was the perfect time to practice my professionalism – even if a patient insults you, you still have to distance yourself from the insult and try to help them as much as possible. Being a shrink meant dealing with all kinds of people – mean ones included.

  “You said this was the first time since,” I said. “Do you mind if I ask what comes after that ‘since’?”

  Wolf hesitated – I could feel it in his shoulders.

  “You don’t gotta tell me. It’s just – I’m supposed to be the shrink, right? It helps if I know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re going to use it against me,” He muttered.

  “If I wanted to use something against you,” I said pointedly. “I wouldn’t be here, hugging you.”

  His shoulders tensed, like he was having some internal war with himself.

  “I don’t like you, Wolf. But I don’t want to hurt you, either. I’m not that kind of person. Or at least I don’t think I am.”

  “No, you’re right. You’re not,” He sighed. “I’ve known those kinds of people, and they are nothing like you. But I can’t tell you. It’s something I deal with on my own.”

  He’d been dealing with it for years solo, obviously. And obviously, he hadn’t been very successful, if all he had to show for it was a crippling phobia and a bit of ring-turning to assuage it.

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to start inferring stuff.” I said. “And I know you hate that.”

  “I’d rather you infer than know the truth. My past is…too shameful to talk about with someone else.”

  I wasn’t going to press him – pressing too hard had bad consequences, or so the textbooks said.

  “Alright,” I put my head against his chest again. “If all I can do is sit here and get hugged, I guess that’s okay, too. I’ve never turned down a good hug. Or a bad hug. Not that your hugs are bad, they’re just a little, uh, rusty.”

  He laughed. He actually laughed, and I could feel it in every bone. Wolfgang Blackthorn, the angriest, most sullen guy in the school, actually laughed. And it wasn’t a mean-spirited chuckle, or a scoff. It was a true, honest-to-god laugh. I was pretty sure I wasn’t hearing things right. But he wasn’t shaking as much as he was earlier, so I took it as a good sign.

  “I’m not that funny,” I frowned. He caught his breath quickly.

  “Give yourself some credit. At least fifty percent of the jokes you make are passable.”

  “Passable,” I repeated. “I think that’s the highest compliment I’ve ever gotten from you.”

  “And it’s also the last,” He said. “Because the second I let go, it’s going to get very awkward, and we’ll never be able to face each other again.”

  “Right,” I squirmed, suddenly aware of how long we’d been like this. “That’s fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Yeah. As long as this like, helped you, I’m fine if you don’t ever look at me again. I think. Since you never actually look at me anyway, and if you do, it’s
always with that pissed-off look on your face, which is sort of bad for my morale. If I had any morale left after high school sapped it all away, that is.”

  He was quiet. I squirmed again.

  “Just…as long as it helped. It doesn’t matter what happens after this, as long as I did something to help you.”

  “Because it’s easy for you to default to being a martyr,” He scoffed.

  “Because…because I get a lot of happiness,” I corrected. “From helping people.”

  “So you really wouldn’t care if we never spoke again?”

  “We don’t exactly get along,” I pointed out. “Me and Fitz get along, as much as anyone can get along with a fickle snake, and me and Burn get along because he’s easy-going. But you and me? No way. I think – I think we’re just way too different. Mindset wise.”

  “Not even going to give us a chance?”

  I felt my face getting hot. Why was he so insistent on getting a chance in the first place?

  “You sort of tanked that chance when you called me pathetic.”

  He let go of me, and without his body heat, the cold air of the garage attacked my skin again. I almost missed him. Almost. Until I remembered who he was, and who I was. He stood and pulled his bike up, inspecting it for damage. I got up too, still unsure of what to do or say.

  “So…that’s it?” I asked.

  “It’s better this way,” He said shortly, his words laced with fire again. “You’re right – I lost my chance. If we stay enemies, it will be easier, in the long run.”

  “Easier?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “Easier for who?”

  He didn’t say anything, jade eyes so determined to stay on his bike it was like he was trying to bore a hole through the metal.

  “You should go,” He finally said. “I have no further use for you.”

  The words stung like a slap across the face. They shouldn’t have – he only held me like that because it was such a rare occurrence, and he was trying to get better. It was nothing personal. And yet there I was, getting offended like he owed me something just because of one therapy hug and his offhanded comment about me being pretty. I was pissed at the time, irrationally. And I let it get to me.