Chapter Seven

"What was with that guy?" Luke murmured, ducking down to me in the lunch queue.

"Uh, who?" I feigned ignorance, shifting my feet.

"The guy with the death glare?" he pointed his chin to the door.

"No idea, some kid," I reached forward, grabbing two grey trays, handing one to Luke.

"And you're telling me you've never had a boyfriend? 'Cause, he looked pretty jealous."

"Jealous?" I choked. Patch, jealous? No.

"Seemed pretty...exxy to me," he raised an eyebrow.

I bit back a laugh, "Exxy?"

"Ex boyfriend." He looked away, avoiding my gaze. My eyes traced the strong line of his jaw, his lips slightly pushed out into a pout. I bit my lip to hide a grin despite myself.

"No, no way." The line moved up slightly, the hungry teens shuffling their feet impatiently.

Finally we managed to fight for our lunch, victorious – with the last slice of Hawaiian pizza.

Luke and I managed to score two seats in the quieter part of the cafeteria, though Patch's warning was still echoing through my head. Whatever, I thought, slamming my lunch tray down.

I keep it in mind.

Luke slid in opposite me, sapphire eyes boring into me. "What?" I asked self consciously, hand reaching up to pat down my hair.

Luke shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. His hand darted forward to steal my lemonade, twisting it open and bringing it to his lips. "Do you mind?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

I raised an eyebrow. "Sure, sure."

He grinned and took a sip. "Sorry, I was a few dollars short for a drink,"

Oh. "Oh, no problem."

He smiled sweetly, then glanced down to my foot, resting under the table on the chair next to him. My jeans must have ridden up to exposed wads of bandage wrapped tightly around my injury. "Your ankle."

"Oh," I was about to drop my leg, sliding it from the chair until he captured my foot, holding it there.

"No, its fine, leave it."

"Yeah, uh, fashion injury."

He smirked. "Dare I ask?"

"I wouldn't,"

He chuckled, and glanced down, his lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. "I like the accent," he looked up at me teasingly, leaning forward.

"You do?" I automatically tipped backwards, putting some space between us.

"Yeah," Luke tilted his head, studying me. "It's cute."

My cheeks flashed a dark red as I laughed.

What was Patch talking about? Surely I imagined it. There was nothing, nothing at all that hinted Luke was dangerous, or even mysterious. He was the nicest guy I'd met here, teasing, friendly, and not to mention; he had the most amazing eyes.

Luke's gaze turned playful, his irises seemed to glow. I blinked, then let the slow grin spread across my face.


I hurried to my locker, trying to beat the after school rush. Patch hadn't turned up to Sport, I figured he was ditching. I snapped my locker open, hauling my bag out and stuffing the books I needed into the bag, struggling with the zipper. I knocked the door shut with my elbow, then headed for the doors. Skipping down the steps, I heard the chaos of the kids getting their stuff together. As I turned left for my car, a hand shot out from the shadows and yanked me sideways. Hard.

"Ouch! What the hell?" I half-shrieked, pulling against the grip on my elbow. Patch had pulled me into him, behind the coverage of the hedges and shrubs. "You know, there's this thing. It's called talking. You should try it; the man handling thing is getting old."

I peered up into Patch's face, startled that he hadn't delivered a smart ass comment yet. "Patch?"

His other hand reached around to grip my other arm. He brought his face close to mine. "Elle," he breathed, closing his eyes. I jerked my head back, looking him over, confused.

"What is this?" I nudged him with my leg, twisting my arms around to grasp his forearms. "You don't talk to me for weeks, don't see me. And now all of a sudden..."

He whirled me around swiftly, having me find myself with my back against the dusty concrete wall. "I didn't talk to you because; I didn't want to do it again."

"Do what?" I whispered, a little uneasy.

"Hurt you."

"You- you hurt me?" I drew myself up.

"Not...not physically. Every time I see you, every time I'm near you, I'm hurting you," he rested his head down on my shoulder, his hands shaking on my arms. His ear was right at my heart.

"Look," I began, unsure how to go about this. "I just need to know. Can I trust you?"

He stayed silent, his eyes boring into mine.

I'll take that as a no?

Patch raised an eyebrow and pressed me deeper into the wall. My heart began to thump painfully fast. "Don't," I began, not sure what I wanted.

"Don't what?" he murmured, twirling a finger around my curls, using that to pull my face closer to his. "You're right. Don't trust me. But that doesn't mean you're in danger. From me."

I opened my mouth to protest, then froze as brought his hand up to touch my cheek. His eyes didn't seem to be black mirrors, depthless, one sided as they once were. They were brimming with an emotion unnameable when describing Patch.

"What have you done to me, Killer?" he breathed.