Twisted(6)

Even more painful because she pulled back.

Get it together, man. “Hey,” he said huskily before clearing his throat. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh. I’m just…here.”

“Great explanation,” he teased, tossing aside his books.

“It’s a nice day. I like this tree. It’s huge.” She tipped her head back and studied the leafy canopy above her head, so dense that it barely let any sunlight through. “How old do you figure it is?”

“At least a million years.”

“Jerk.” She laughed and looked at him again, setting those amazing eyes back on his with a seriousness that pulled at his heart. “Why are you here?”

“I have to eat lunch, you know. Speaking of that…” He dumped out the contents of the lunch sack on the grass. “Look at this fine feast I put together for us. Deli meat and slightly brown grapes. Check it.”

She plucked a grape out of the baggie and popped it her mouth. “I’ve never had finer.”

“Uh-huh. Sweet talk will get you nowhere.”

“So what would get me somewhere?”

He cut a glance her way but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. She’d set her guitar aside and was now digging through her battered backpack. “I have drinks.” She pulled out two cans of grape soda, tossed him one and opened her own can before taking a long swallow. “I raided the machine this morning.”

“And you gave me one. I’m honored.”

“Who else would I give it to?” She grabbed another grape.

“Oh, I don’t know. All the new friends you must be making. I expected you to be holding court like any good Queen Jazz should do.” He grinned and unwrapped his sandwich.

She looped an arm around her up-drawn leg and picked up her sandwich. “Don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon.”

“I bet you’ve been fighting the adoring hordes off all day.” Fighting the guys off especially. Not that he was thinking about that. She was his foster sister. Completely off-limits, even if she tilted her head and licked grape soda off her lips in such a naturally sensual way that he couldn’t help shifting where he sat.

“Nope. No fighting off.”

“So you let them have their way with you?” he asked with a grin, hoping she would grin back. Jazz not smiling seemed like a crime against humanity. The sun dimmed even more on their little patch of grass until he had to do something—anything—to make the sunshine come back. He reached out to tip up her chin, expecting to see her usual smile. Instead he found tears.

“Hey. Hey,” he murmured, thumbing one of them away. “What’s the matter?”

She launched herself into his arms, nearly pitching them back onto the grass. “I hate this place.”

He patted her back awkwardly, his hand still full of bologna. “Huh? Why?”

She shifted back on her knees and rubbed at her blotchy cheeks. “This school is horrible. I don’t fit in.”

“Says who?” he asked, setting aside the sandwich in case his arms were needed again.

“The whole world.”

“That can’t be true. You’re just imagining things.” Hearing his father’s thread of lawyerly doubt in his own voice, Gray sucked in a breath and tried again. “What happened?”

“What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” She gestured at herself. “Just look at me.”

He already did far too much. “Yeah, and?”

“I shouldn’t be here with all these California perfect blondes with tanned skin and mile-long legs. My skin’s so pale you can see my bones. My hair’s almost black. My legs—”

“Are perfect,” he interrupted quietly, trying to stop his gaze from drifting past the hems of her cutoff jean shorts as she plopped her butt on the grass. But when he glimpsed the smiley-faced daisy she’d drawn on her calf, something twisted inside him that wasn’t desire. For once. “Tell me who upset you. I’ll talk to them.” He’d do more than that if necessary. Gladly. Hell, he’d take on the whole football team if he had to.

“It’s not just one person.” She swiped at her chin. “It’s everyone. I don’t belong.”

“Stop it. You belong just where you are. On the grass, with the sun behind you. With a flower drawn in marker on your leg and crushed grapes under your foot.”

“Oh no.” She winced and pried the baggie out from under her heel. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I like them better like this.” Taking the baggie, he scooped his fingers through the green mush and sampled. Then he offered her some. “See? Perfect.”