Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance by Lindsey Iler (read with me .TXT) 📗

the list of reasons why we aren’t a match. Let me guess, Tripp also doesn’t smoke?” My animosity towards the plaid wearing douchebag is loud and clear.

“This isn’t a competition,” she says. It doesn’t go unnoticed how she tenses up at the mention of Tripp. Maybe he’s the cause of the sad and distant eyes.

Delaney can say it’s not a competition, but it’s funny because that’s exactly what this feels like. I’m trying to prove myself every chance I can, justifying my decisions and actions at the crossroads, while Tripp DuPont gets to waltz in the door and chase the welcome wagon attached to her ass.

We run the path, taking each crossroad the same as if we share a brain. A steady rhythm sets in between us, and in what feels like minutes, we’ve run six miles. We breach the course entrance with our breaths heavy. Delaney halts, dropping her hands to her thighs, then springs up and grabs at her side.

“Put your hands over your head,” I instruct. “And don’t stop moving. You’re going to cramp even more.”

Delaney paces, a deep pink hue on her cheeks. Her breaths start to steady, but there’s pain on her face as she attempts to stretch out her overworked muscle.

“Lay down,” I say. When she doesn’t listen right away, I laugh. “Seriously, lay down. It will help to stretch the muscles you need worked but can’t do on your own.”

She does as I say, finding the cleanest part of the cement. “Seems you’re doing this for your own benefit.”

I bend down and grab her leg, lifting it and placing her foot tight against my stomach. “If I wanted you on your back, I could have you there whenever I want.”

“So sure of yourself.” Her grin widens when I apply a little more pressure, stretching her hamstring.

“You saying it’s not true?” I grin at her lack of response.

Her face stays flat. She’s unwilling to give me an inch of acknowledgement, and even goes so far as to glance away, forcing her attention to the parking lot.

“Help me up.” Delaney shakes her hand, and I yank her to her feet. “Well, this was . . . This was something.”

The loneliness in her eyes as she walks away has the familiar pain in my chest returning.

“You hungry?” I shout before she makes it to the parking lot.

“I could eat,” she answers, waiting for me on the curb. “I’m driving.”

“I’m not riding in your Barbie car,” I protest.

“That’s good because I don’t have it anymore.” She clicks the fob on her keychain, and the lights on a sleek black Range Rover blink. “Get in.”

I circle the rear of the beautiful piece of machinery, admiring the candy gloss and black rims. I slide into the passenger seat, unable to stop from gawking at her behind the wheel. The creamy leather interior is sleek and sophisticated compared to her custom Mini Cooper.

“It fits you,” I say, hating the quiet tension between us.

“You think so?”

No.

“I think you can be whoever you want to be. You love to be the girl with the pink, gawdy-as-fuck car, then be her. You want to be this girl, then be her.”

“It’s so easy for you.” Delaney drives off campus, waving at the gate attendant that’s permanently placed there, and merges into traffic. “You know who you are. Even during the chaos of this year, Breaker Davenport was unmovable. Even with everything that was thrown at you, you somehow stayed true to yourself.”

“That’s not true. This year, I was tested more than I’ve ever been before. Half the time I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing or for the right reasons.” I run my hands over the dashboard, enjoying the buttery material under my fingers. “So, this a new start or something?”

“Tripp thought . . .” Her words trail off. Did she catch her misstep? “I don’t know why I even care. This car isn’t me.” She scrubs a hand down her face.

“You can say his name, Delaney. I’m not stupid enough to think you’ve suddenly ditched him.”

“During the summer, he thought it would be a good idea to get a new car, so he helped me pick it out and customize it. It arrived on campus yesterday.”

“She’s a beauty.” This is my best attempt at pretending him helping her do this doesn’t fucking sting like a thousand dull knives to my chest. “So, where’re you taking me?”

“Dotty’s.” She grins at me, knowing damn well how I’d feel about going to the diner.

“You trying to make me fall in love, Delaney?” I laugh.

“I go there when I want that feeling.”

“What feeling is that?” I ask as the trees fly by as she races down Highway Twenty-Seven.

“Comfort,” she finally says.

“Dotty’s greasy food is comforting to you?” My brows pinch together. The idea confuses me. “Oh, baby, we need to teach you what that word means.”

Delaney falls silent until we’re in the parking lot. The diner’s silver exterior makes me feel as if we’ve walked into a time warp. The windows are small and evenly placed. Through them, I can see they’re busy today.

“Hey, you two,” Dotty calls out when we walk through the door. “Long time no see.” She circles the counter and draws Delaney into a hug, whispering something in her ear. As she draws away, Delaney’s face falls. “Oh, stop that right now. You’re alive, so go be it, and while you’re at it, go sit your cute butt in the corner booth, and I’ll be over in a few minutes to take your order.”

“You already know what we’re ordering, Dot,” I say.

“I know, but I like to pretend, so I can see your tattooed up, pretty boy face.” Being winked at by a sixty-something year old lady with a southern twang never grows old. She somehow makes me feel important with a simple look. She bustles around the room swamped with other patrons.

I follow Delaney over to our booth. Made for six, it swallows her up as she scoots to