A ghost of a grin, barely there, pulled at Brax’s lips as he pushed my door open wide, resting it against the wall. Shamelessly, he swaggered into my room. He must've felt my trepidation and thought to let my dorm door stay open. Still, there was something in his eyes, his body language that made me leery. My room suddenly felt crammed full. Crowded. Smaller, just with him in it. He passed by me, then glanced briefly over his shoulder. “Scar?”
Scah. “An accident.” I answered.
“What happened?” Those strange eyes were fixed on mine. Waiting.
I tugged at my lip again with my teeth. “I was thrown from a horse into a barbed-wired fence.” God, please forgive these stupid lies I keep telling!
“No shit,” he said, his mouth pulling into that sly side grin. “Tough girl, huh? You don’t look it. Now Southie girls? You can tell right away they don’t take no kinda shit. From any damn body.” Those eyes regarded me curiously, and for far longer than felt comfortable. “But braids and freckles don’t usually stir the fear of God in people, Gracie. Or horses, for that matter.”
It struck me odd, his comment. Although my mom never talked bad about our estranged father, she’d told me something not too long ago. Something he’d said, before deserting us all. I need more, Sadie. This braids and freckles life on the ranch? It’s sucking me dry. It’s just not for me. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. I vaguely remembered my father, but the thought of his weak cowardly retreat from our family and his responsibilities made me angry, filled my mind with a blazing red color that heated my cheeks. I shook the thought away and inclined my head toward Brax’s scar. I needed to veer the conversation away from me. “What about you?”
His eyes changed; hazed over. “Broken bottle.” Just that fast, the glimpse faded, and his lip curled up. “Just a little scuffle with a guy who had one too many lagers. As you probably have noticed, I’m not from here.” Lahgas.
“Kinda hard not to,” I said. I already knew where he was from, but I didn’t want him knowing Tessa and I had been talking about him. “Where?” I asked, avoiding his direct stare.
“South Boston,” he clarified. He inclined his head to my hand. “Married?”
Instinctively, I twirled my ring with my thumb, then sighed. “No, not married. It’s personal.”
Brax shrugged. “It’s an easy question, Gracie. Just answer it.”
Easy it definitely was not. I stared at the thin band of silver on my finger, then the clear blue of his odd eyes. I lifted my chin. “It’s a pledge ring. A vow I made.”
His eyes widened, his face shocked. “Jesus Christ, you’re a fuckin’ nun?”
I blew out a breath. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to hell for saying all those words in the same sentence. No, it has nothing to do with the church. It’s a personal vow. Of virginity. My decision.” I made my gaze stay on his, forced it, unafraid and unashamed. Well, that last one was another lie. Shame crept into every corner and crevice of my being, filling me like some dark silhouette that shadowed me, no matter where I went. But no one here would ever know that about me. Not if I could help it.
Brax studied me hard for several seconds. Haunted eyes penetrating mine. One side of his mouth lifted into that cocky smirk. “Well, at least you’re not a fuckin’ nun.”
He moved toward my bed, and glanced up at my half-hung poster. “Got any more tacks, Gracie?”
And just like that, it was done. I'd guessed then he didn’t want to talk about his past, and he must’ve gotten that I didn’t want to talk about mine, either. A person doesn’t get gashed and scarred by a broken bottle—or anything else—and not have a dark history behind it all. I decided not to pry. I’m glad he decided the same. At my desk, I grabbed two more tacks and handed them to Brax. When he smoothed the poster against the wall, I read the letters inked into his big knuckles. On his left hand, g o i n. On his right, d o w n. Goin’ down. He pushed the tacks in and stood back to look at it.
“Maria Mitchell, huh?” He looked at it for a second, glanced over his shoulder at Tessa’s Calvin Klein poster, then turned and held me still with his gaze. “I already knew that about you, Gracie. I could tell just by comparing you and your belongings to your roommate’s.” He moved to my bookshelf, and ran his forefinger over each volume as he read the titles. He looked at me. “Even without that ring I’d have guessed you’re a virgin. But an astronomy student? You got me there, Sunshine.”