Free Bayward Street by Addison Jane Page B

like he was looking for something. He was looking for you. ” Her voice was quiet now, but she couldn’t hide the excitement. It made me feel giddy too, like a little girl who’d just been told her crush liked her. But I guess that was almost true.
    Apart from Kyle, none of the boys had ever approached me as more than just a friend. Sure, men on the street leered, and I’d had my fair share of propositions–every other day—but this was so different.
    I wanted to know more about Heath, I wanted to know what made him tick, and feel him touch me again. It was a sweet burn that was slowly consuming my body with warmth. He’d been such a mystery to begin with, but him appearing in my life again I’m sure can’t have been a coincidence.
    I knew he felt something too, not because of the kiss, but because of the way he watched me like he was studying every part of me and committing it to memory.
    I lay my head back on Layla’s knee, basking in the dream that I knew would probably never repeat itself. So far the universe hadn’t been so great to me, why would it start now?
    Layla, as if reading my thoughts started to play one of my favorite songs, Burning House. Its lyrics lulled me gently as she sang to the beautiful soft tune. She knew me so well sometimes it was almost scary. I loved all of my friends here, but it was Layla that I knew I could trust with anything and everything, and knew that no matter what, she’d just understand.
    I met Layla in Juvie, she’d subtly pushed herself into my life and forced her friendship on me, but I was so grateful that she had.
     
    “Hi. Can I sit with you?” I jumped at the small voice, no one had ever approached me before. I looked up and found a petite girl with long blonde hair, which was swept over the front of her shoulder in a braid, and reached well past her waistline. Her eyes were a stunning shade of what I could only describe as denim blue. “Umm… is that okay?” she asked again raising her eyebrow and shaking me from my daze.
    Clearing my throat and returning to my book, I replied quietly, “Yeah, sure.”
    She dropped with a thud into the chair opposite me, the movement so ungraceful and so contrary to the high-class, proper look she portrayed. “Great!” she said cheerily then picked at her food for a few minutes before speaking again. “My name’s Layla.”
    I raised my eyes once again from my book to see her smile beaming back at me. Perfect mouth, perfect lips, perfect dimples.
    “Keira,” I told her softly.
    She scooped up her sandwich and took a large bite. “That’s a real pretty name, not very common, though,” she said around a mouth full of food.
    A smile quirked at the corner of my mouth. I liked my name, it was one of the only things my parents had ever done right. Keira loosely meant black haired, its origin being Irish. My mother told me when I was born, I had amazing black locks, a characteristic that had never changed. My hair was still black as ink and fell to just below my shoulders. It was so dark it contrasted beautifully with my very pale skin.
    “Thank you,” I answered her with a smile. We sat in very comfortable silence, and I took notice of the way she people watched, eyeing all the different groups with a curious look. I knew she was taking note of who sat where, who talked to who, and before I knew it, she was watching me with the same critical eyes.
    “You been here long?” she inquired with a slight tilt of her head.
    I placed my bookmark inside the page I was reading and closed my book, getting the feeling she didn’t want any more one word answers. “Few weeks,” I said shrugging.
    She bobbed her head, nodding softly. “I just got in yesterday, but it’s not my first time.”
    My eyebrows raised slightly, encouraging her to continue.
    “I did like three months last year for breaking and entering.” I felt my eyes widen even further. This girl looked like the epitome of high-class, it was a surprise to see her