Free Winter Longing by Tricia Mills Page A

staring at me like I’d suddenly started speaking in Latin. When I met their gazes, most looked quickly away.
    My heart hammered and my body shook as I lowered my eyes to the top of my desk. Thank goodness Mrs. Miller hadn’t drawn extra attention to my embarrassing display. I stared at my textbook and tried to concentrate on the lecture.
    At the end of class, I didn’t meet anyone’s eyes—not even Mrs. Miller’s—because I was afraid she’d stop me and ask questions I didn’t want to answer.
    “Winter? ”
    I thought about pretending I didn’t hear Jesse calling to me as I headed up the hall, but that would probably just draw more attention. I edged out of the flow of traffic and pasted on an everything’s-fine face. “Yeah?”
    “You okay?” He wore his concerned look again. His continued attention felt odd, especially when he’d barely noticed me before.
    “Fine!” But I said it too cheerily, a sure sign I was anything but fine.
    “What happened in there?”
    I waved my hand like it was no big deal. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I fell asleep in class. I guess I must have been dreaming or something.”
    He knew I was lying. I could tell by the look in his eyes.
    “Okay.” Someone bumped into him, causing him to step closer to me.
    Instinctively, I put my hand up, and it ended up pressed against his chest. A long moment passed as our eyes met and heat flooded my face. I jerked my hand away from where it rested above his heart and barely suppressed the urge to run. Before I could flee, however, he wrapped his fingers gently around my upper arm.
    “Talk to Lindsay, your mom, Mrs. Schuler. Someone.” He released my arm and stepped back, giving me room to breathe.
    And allowing me to meet the piercing, crackling gaze of Patrice Murray.
    Spencer stared at my Halloween costume, a frothy concoction inspired by Kirsten Dunst as Marie Antoinette that had taken me five months to complete.
    “Well, what do you think?”
    “It’s nice.”
    I placed my hands on my hips. “If you were any less enthusiastic, you might actually be snoring.”
    He turned and looked at Patrice Murray’s skintight, red she-devil costume.
    “I am so not wearing something like that,” I said. “I’d look like a hooker.” So what if mine was a little conservative, even for me.
    Spencer met my eyes. “No, you’d look beautiful.”

CHAPTER 11
     
    After school, I made like a coward and hid in the restroom until most of the din of freed students faded. I stayed like that even after the quiet settled, trying to convince myself that Spencer’s death hadn’t irrevocably screwed up both my brain and my emotions.
    Following several minutes of self-analysis, I realized I wasn’t going to figure anything out sitting in an empty girls’ restroom. But the time in there won me a solo walk along the path from the school—something I desperately needed.
    By the time I approached the town square, however, I realized I couldn’t face the idea of going home. I considered sitting in the park for a while, or possibly doing homework at the tiny Tundra Library. As I entered the square, I glanced in the window of Oregano’s. Lindsay was behind the counter on the phone.
    Hoping to avoid all the memories trapped in my room and hoping Linds and I could find a few minutes to patch things up some more, I stepped inside.
    When Lindsay looked up and saw me, I thought maybe I’d made a mistake. I saw her expression grow more tired, her shoulders slump. But then she took a breath and gave me the hint of a smile and a small wave.
    I exhaled with relief. With the loss of Spencer, I’d never been more aware of what Linds meant to me. I simply could not stand to lose my best girlfriend on the heels of losing the guy I’d given my heart to.
    I took a moment to soothe my vibrating nerves. I intended to be there for Lindsay no matter how battered and empty I felt inside. I hoped I had the strength to deal with any lingering hostility she