Strawberry skies

Chapter 4

Later that afternoon, I found myself wandering the hall, doing everything I could to keep my mind off the ticking clock. The place was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made you hyperaware of every little sound—shoes squeaking, carts rolling, the occasional cough from a patient's room.

I turned a corner and nearly bumped into Bee.

"Watch it," she said, stepping back.

"You're everywhere," I muttered.

"Maybe you're the one following me," she shot back, hands on her hips.

I smirked, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. "Trust me, you're not that interesting."

Her eyebrows shot up, amused. "Could've fooled me. You're the one making a scene."

I hesitated, smirk fading slightly. "About earlier..."

"What about it?" she asked, crossing her arms.

I glanced around, making sure no one else was listening. "You didn't have to get involved. It wasn't your business."

Bee tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "You were yelling in a hospital full of sick kids. That made it my business."

I clenched my jaw, annoyed but knowing she had a point. "Still, I didn't need you to—"

"To what?" she cut me off, voice firm. "To remind you to act like a decent human being? You're welcome, by the way."

I blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. Most people didn't talk to me like that, not even Craig. They either tiptoed around me or tried too hard to get on my good side. Bee did neither, and it was both infuriating and... refreshing.

"Fine," I muttered, shoving my hands into my vest pockets. "Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome," she replied, her tone softer now.

There was a pause, her gaze studying me in a way that made me uncomfortable.

"You've got a short fuse," she said, almost like an observation. "Doesn't seem like today's the first time either."

I stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you've been walking around like you're mad at the world since I first saw you," she replied, shrugging. "And the way you were yelling earlier? Pretty much confirmed it."

Her words hit closer than I wanted to admit, but I wasn't about to let her know that. "Maybe minding your own business would do you some good."

Bee raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "Maybe you wouldn't need someone to call you out if you weren't stomping around like life owes you something."

I let out a bitter laugh. "And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Bee didn't flinch, her gaze steady. "Yeah, actually, I would."

Her answer caught me off guard, and I couldn't think of a response. She didn't elaborate, didn't offer any details. She just stood there, arms crossed, like she'd said all she needed to say.

"Come on," she said finally, nodding toward the vending machine at the end of the hall. "I need sugar, and you look like you could use some too."

I hesitated but followed her anyway.

---

Bee led the way to the vending machine, her steps light yet purposeful. She didn't look back to check if I was following—just assumed I would, like she had that kind of pull over people. Annoyingly, it worked.

She crouched in front of the machine, studying the rows of snacks like it was some kind of life-or-death decision. "What's your go-to?" she asked, not looking at me.

"I don't have one."

Bee glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow quirking up. "You don't have a favorite snack? What kind of person doesn't have a favorite snack?"

"The kind that doesn't care," I replied, leaning against the wall.

She rolled her eyes and tapped the glass. "You scream 'salty snacks.' Chips, maybe? Or jerky."

I raised an eyebrow. "You profiling me based on snacks now?"

"Call it a talent," she said with a small smirk. "And you're avoiding the question. Pick something."

I stared at the machine, then randomly pointed to a pack of gummy bears.

"Gummy bears? Interesting choice," Bee said, punching in the code. "Guess you've got a sweet side under all that brooding."

I scoffed but didn't respond. The machine whirred, and she grabbed the gummy bears before tossing them to me.

"You didn't have to—"

"Don't worry, it's on me," she said, cutting me off. "Think of it as payment for scaring off that dude you were arguing with earlier. Craig, was it?"

I froze for a second, surprised she'd remembered his name. "You've got a good memory."

Bee shrugged, unwrapping a chocolate bar she'd bought for herself. "I'm observant. Comes with the territory."

"What territory?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She bit into the chocolate, then held out her hand. "Bee. And before you say it, yes, like the insect."

I stared at her outstretched hand, hesitated for a moment before shaking it. "Louis. And before you ask, no, I don't have a nickname."

Bee tilted her head, smirking. "I'll come up with one. Don't worry."

"You won't," I said, deadpan.

"Sure, Lou," she replied, completely ignoring me.

I groaned, but she just laughed.

"So," she said after a pause, leaning against the machine and looking up at me, "what's your deal?"

"My deal?"

"Yeah. You're obviously angry at the world, but you're here helping kids. Kinda feels like there's a story there."

I clenched my jaw, my defenses immediately going up. "There's no story. I'm here because I have to be, not because I want to be."

Bee nodded slowly, like she was processing that. "Fair enough. But you don't seem like the type to just do what you're told. Guess you must've screwed up pretty bad to end up here."

I shot her a look, but she didn't back down, her gaze steady.

"Am I wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You ask a lot of questions," I muttered.

"And you dodge a lot of them," she shot back.

Her bluntness was starting to get under my skin, but I couldn't bring myself to walk away. Maybe it was the way she didn't seem afraid to call me out, or maybe it was just that she was more interesting than anyone else I'd met in this place.

"Fine," I said finally. "I'm here because I got caught with something that wasn't mine. Community service instead of jail. Happy now?"

Bee didn't look surprised, just nodded like she'd already figured it out. "Makes sense. You've got that 'I don't care about anything' vibe going on."

I frowned. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not," she said, taking another bite of her chocolate. "But I'm a good judge of character. And I think there's more to you than the brooding, angry guy act."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I stayed silent.

For the first time since meeting her, Bee didn't push. She just stood there, finishing her chocolate like we hadn't just had one of the weirdest conversations of my life.