Free Lovely by Beth Michele Page B

pizza. Crispy crust, pepperoni melting in my mouth. Scrumptious.” I sigh. I suck at this. “Okay, that sounded completely idiotic.”
    “No, it didn’t. It was quite poetic, actually. It made me visualize the pizza in my mind and imagine what it tastes like. That was great.”
    I snort. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Ophelia.”
    She grabs a bright yellow pillow and tosses it at me, so I do the same. When I do, her head falls back in a laugh, her cinnamon waves surrounding her, and I get a clear view of the subtle curve of her neck. It’s so damn sexy.
    I snag one of the pillows and hug it to my chest. “So when I hand that in to Travinski, I’ll tell him you said it constituted a poem.”
    “Actually,” she rings out with an aura of confidence, “Professor Travinski is quite fond of me, so you’ll probably get an A.”
    I cock my head to the side with an amused smile. “And why is that exactly?”
    “Because not only do I help out during the sections on poetry, but I tutor a couple of students in his classes on a regular basis.”
    My lips turn up in a wide grin. “I think I qualify for that, don’t I?”
    She smiles and twists a curl around her finger. “I don’t think so, actually. Your pizza poem has potential.”
    “Yeah, well, I don’t anticipate winning any contests with it, but I guess it’ll do.” I know I need to get home to check on Colt but I can feel myself stalling, picking up the poetry books sprawled out on the carpet. “Anyway, I guess I should get going.”
    She helps me gather the rest of the books. “Okay.”
    As I get up, I reach out and loop my finger around Cara’s to help her stand, and a powerful bolt of electricity shoots through me. When I’m on my feet and her eyes lock with mine, I swear I see a sparkle in them behind those big black circles of glass. Maybe she felt it, too. Probably not, asshole, you’re not her type either .
    “Thanks,” she says quietly as she bites her bottom lip.
    I shift on my feet and run a hand through my hair repeatedly. “Thanks for the help, seriously. I’m poetry deficient, so I need a lot of it.”
    She shakes her head and a small sound slips out of her mouth. It’s a happy one, and it makes me want to hear more of them.
    I turn for the door, my feet following my own hesitation, seemingly in slow motion. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
    We’re both looking at the door but neither of us moves until finally she pulls it open for me. “Yes.” She waves her hand in the air. “I’ll meet you in the palace of books.”
    Yes, you will . “Bye, Cara.”
    “Bye.”
    On the way home, I crank up The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven,” and can’t help the grin that’s spreading like wildfire across my face. Cara’s so different from any girl I’ve ever known. She’s cool, she’s interesting, she’s smart, and she’s actually got a good sense of humor. But she showed me something else today. She gave me a glimpse inside her soul … and all I saw was pain. Familiar pain. Pain I can relate to.
    I walk in the door to find Colt lying on the couch with his eyes closed. My legs take me over there quickly, and I shake him. “Colt! Colt! Are you okay?”
    He startles and opens his eyes. “What! What, bro? I was sleeping!”
    “Oh.” Relief surges through me. “I was just checking on you.”
    He brings his hands up in the air, waving them. “Oh God, now that I might have a brain tumor, are you going to start acting all crazy on me?”
    “Acting all crazy on you?” I bellow. I don’t even know what to say to that. First, my father dies, and now who knows what the hell’s going to happen to my brother. If I’m crazy, I have every God damn right to be. “Yeah, it’s just a tumor.”
    I storm into the kitchen and Colt follows behind me. He grabs my arm and sighs.
    “Listen, I’m sorry. I know you’re only concerned. I just need to downplay it for myself. I don’t know whether you can understand that or not.”
    “Of