MILLICENT
I turned to him. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Exactly.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “But I know your laugh now. And the sound your voice makes when you read. And that you mop like a lunatic. So maybe that’s something.”
I chuckled staring at his stupid face. The rumors are true, Xander Brooks is a fire. A beautiful, dangerous, impossible fire and I am a moth, already flying too close.
After dinner, we returned to the library, the only two souls in the whole of Silver Fang not gone for the weekend. Everyone else was out being normal hugging parents, eating decent food, sleeping in homes that smelled like them. Not us.
He laid stretched across two beanbags, arms behind his head, eyes closed.
“Read to me,” I said softly trying to also figure out what his reading voic
