Free Searching for Beautiful by Nyrae Dawn

That’s what I would have done if I didn’t feel like speaking. Just walked away. My counselor would probably say that means you really do wanna talk. If not him, my mom would. She’s always saying stuff like that to me.”
    My cheeks flush in annoyance. “What? Maybe I just don’t want to be rude? Don’t pretend to know me.” But we both know I don’t have a problem being rude lately. I’ve done it before by running away from him when he tried to speak to me.
    Christian looks completely serious when he says, “I think it’s pretty safe to say I don’t really know you anymore, Bryntastic.”
    His words slice into me, stinging when I know they shouldn’t. Or is it that they shouldn’t or I don’t want them to? “Why do you go to the community center?” It occurs to me that he can tell me to go to hell. That I just told him I don’t want to talk. And I probably deserve that.
    Instead, Christian shrugs. “I used to have some anger management problems. Mom makes me go. She volunteers a lot and she’s always analyzing everything.”
    I cock my head, looking for any sign of embarrassment from him at the way he just spit that out. Not as though it’s a huge deal, but he just says it likes it’s nothing. Anger management problems definitely don’t sound good, but there’s no shyness or anger when he admits it. It just is.
    Then I stand there and wait for it. Wait for him to ask me the same thing. Why was I there? Why don’t I hang out with my friends anymore? Or he probably doesn’t need to ask, because he already knows.
    “Cute slippers,” he says, surprising me because it’s completely out of the blue. “Do your PJs have a bushy tail, too?” He’s got that same half smile on his face from earlier. That flirty, I’m-a-hot-boy-who-can-have-any-girl-I-want look, and I’m suddenly annoyed again. I hate that cocky-guy look and that cocky-guy grin and I will not be pulled into that trap again.
    “Cute way to try to look at my ass.” I let one of my brows raise, a little swell of pride in my chest that I’m calling this how I see it.
    “Hey, it’s a good line, and I don’t remember you being such a grump.”
    A grump? A grump? His words make me stifle a laugh. A sarcastic one, sure, but a chuckle all the same. “Bad job at your analysis. This is not me being grumpy. That’s a whole lot worse.”
    Christian shifts on the chair a little, then pulls his sleeves down to cover his hands. “Observation, not an analysis.”
    My porch light flickers a little but stays on. Think, think, think! The urge to get the best of him simmers inside me. I used to be pretty good at getting in the last word. “I… Whatever.” Awesome. I rocked at that. Not.
    “I would say I know you are but what am I, but then, that doesn’t make much sense, I guess. It would be right along the same lines as whatever .”
    I search my brain for more silly sayings, not letting myself overthink what I’m doing. “I’m rubber, you’re glue.” A grin pulls at my lips.
    “Gummy bear?” he asks.
    I wait for the punch line before I realize he’s really asking me if I want some candy.
    Christian pops a few into his mouth.
    Gummy bear? Talk about a subject change. I’m at a loss for words. First, I’ve never known a guy who carries gummy bears in his pocket and second, weren’t we just having this strange, immature sort of witty-banter thing going on? But then…this little flash of a memory spouts in my head. That sugary smell when we danced. The box of… “You used to eat Jujubes, didn’t you? I remember you always had a box of them with you.”
    He shakes his head. “Nope. It was Dots.”
    “Oh yeah!” I laugh. “Dots. I remember now. I…” I bought a box of them. I put them on my desk so he’d see them, think we had something in common, and fall madly in love with me. My cheeks burn. Wow, I can’t believe I did that. Mark that on my ever-growing list of things I will never again do for a boy.
    “You what?”
    So