Free Broken (The Immortal Coven Book 1) by April Gutierrez Page B

have what we want, and weren’t you the one who said we should only be friends.”
     
    “I vaguely recall such a statement.”
     
    “I recall it perfectly well, and how miniscule it made me feel.”
     
    He tenderly sucked in a breath, as if to say more, counter me once again, but said nothing. Finally, he shook his head and turned away from me.
     
    “We are going to be late.” He groaned.
     
    Letting the words rest in my mind, the walk behind him to the gym was far too long. With every step, I felt him further and further away. The distance was the same, but the warmth of his closeness had worn off. In its place, longing.
     
    I did not bury my nose in a novel during that hour. I sat on the bleachers and watched him. Feeling as though taking my eyes off of him would make him vanish, and I did not want him to disappear again.
     
    He is like no other boy I’d ever met, and for some reason, I can’t decide if I should be terrified by his peculiar nature or excited by it.
     
    My imagination played at the movements of his lean muscular figure, keen on the flexing of his calf muscles as he stepped, turned and twisted, the way he almost clenched his jaw every time he took a shot. He followed the other boys across the court like a hungry lion, wanting to get the ball back, but he didn’t chase them. He was calculating the precise moment to strike. Time after time, Dmitri dominated but awed the other players, as he proved his skills.
     
    Before I knew it, the basketball court was clearing out and everyone was heading into the locker rooms to change.
     
    Before he disappeared, I caught him turn in my direction. He paused for only a moment, his features remaining emotionless, and then he was gone.
     
    I gathered my belongings and left the gym, not waiting for anyone. More like making sure no one would have the opportunity to follow me.
     
    Trisha greeted me as I reached the ‘dungeon’ as my 4 th period photography classmates like to refer to our class.
     
    “Look at you all out of breath. You’re a whole 5 minutes early. Don’t you come from the gym?”
     
    “And you? How do you get here so early?” I countered.
     
    “I’m next door for 3 rd . Art.”
     
    “I wasn’t running. I left gym early. I don’t have to dress out until next week. I don’t have a locker yet.”
     
    “Well aren’t you the lucky one. I remember having P.E., about the only good thing was seeing the boys sweat as they played their group sports.”
     
    She’s right….it really is the only good thing about the class.
     
    “Do you know any of the boys in your class?” she asked curiously as she flipped through a photography book.
     
    “A few boys from lunch, Kevin, Jason, Dmitri…”
     
    “Oh, Lucky girl,” she sighed in awe. “What I wouldn’t give to have that class with you.”
     
    What could I do but smile? “All you can ever do is watch, they are forever playing basketball.”
     
    “Shirtless?” she asked, her eyes gleaming for the proper response.
     
    “and dripping with glorious sweat.” I added sarcastically.
     
     
    “Oh, what’s this? Not charmed by the handsome boys of Hernando High?”
     
    “Charmed? Now there is something amusing.” I lied.
     
    By the look on her face, I doubt she believed a word I’d said but she left well enough alone.
     
     
    Mrs. Ashby spoke of natural light in photographs and how it is to be captured not created. Her later words captivated my attention but lulled me into a sad state.
     
    ‘Light is offered freely, one must first know what is beautiful in the light to capture it precisely how it is seen. Even then, your eye must see the beauty or possibility of it, to know what to snap at. Think back to a moment you saw light shimmering through clouds or an object in which a beam had managed to shine past. Does it not invoke an emotion that makes you want to see it again?’
     
    I’d seen such a light. The afternoon my mother died. I laid on the side of the road,