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

Without knowing of the boundary put in place for me, I toed the line until I tumbled right into the alligator pit.

“Hey!”

I jump, then break into a fit of giggles, clutching at my chest from fear mixed with happiness.

“You scared the shit out of me, Reagan.”

“I’m so sorry. I heard the elevator doors open, and I was throwing my garbage down the chute.” She shrugs, heading to her dorm room. “Alone tonight?”

The question is loaded, and she knows it. She’s found me pacing the hallway in the middle of the night when I’m unable to stay inside my room alone any longer. She’s heard the screams and witnessed the breakdowns.

“Up for a girls’ night?” she asks after the long pregnant pause I’ve created becomes too much.

“You don’t have to,” I lie, hoping she won’t take my answer at face value.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to, Delaney. Grab your shit and come over. It’s early. You can tell me about that shit that went down tonight.” She grins. “I may even have snacks.”

“Only if you tell me about what’s going on with you and Dixon.”

“Oh, we don’t have enough time in the day for that shit storm.” She laughs, kicking open her door.

I rush into my room and grab everything I need. Once my bag is filled with a change of pajamas and my toothbrush, I twist to grab my pillow and freeze, spotting a splash of color against the white pillowcase.

A beautifully bloomed peony lays across the fabric. The full petals remind me why they’ve always been my favorite. A small piece of paper is attached to the stem. As I pick it up, holding the petals to my nose to inhale the scent, I know there’s no point in reading the note because I know who it’s from.

I toss it on my comforter and head for the door. Curiosity has me pausing, taking a deep breath, and then retrieving it. Out in the hallway, I flip the ivory notecard and hold my breath as my eyes skim over the beautifully messy handwriting.

I’m sorry about tonight.

-B

A single sentence has my eyes closing, fighting the emotions Breaker Davenport is capable of bringing out of me. He makes the small things feel like big gestures.

“You coming or not?” Reagan pokes her head out of her room, her smile slipping when she sees the flower and note in my hand. “Oh, shit, girl! They like to do that, don’t they? Disappear, then barge into the chambers of our hearts when we don’t need them anymore.”

“You better have chocolate ice cream in there.” I drop the note and flower on the floor, ignoring it on my way to Reagan’s dorm.

We spend the remainder of the night talking so much shit about half of the Glass House Boys.

When I wake up, I feel a little better, more grounded in my choice. The biggest problem with feeling grounded is that at any point, it can trip me up again.

******

A knock on the door startles me from my half-dozing state.

I haven’t been getting decent sleep, too consumed with memories and nightmares to find the elusive relief. I hate to admit it, but seeing Breaker at the party, and then finding the flower and note on my bed, it fucked my head up. No amount of complaining to Reagan would ever be enough.

I slug over to check the peephole and can’t help but smile. I flip and twist every lock. Tripp grins when I open the door.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, moving off to the side for him to enter.

I lock the door behind us, shocked when he takes items out of the large paper bags in his hands and places them on the table.

“What’s all this?” I gesture to the containers.

“Your text earlier had me a little worried.” He abandons the bags on the floor and his arms encircle my waist, tugging me close.

My hands land on his biceps, reveling in the feel of being in his arms. Sometimes being in his presence can be the simplest thing in the world.

“There’s been a lot of things on my mind,” I admit.

“Care to talk about it?” Tripp asks, holding me tight.

“Sometimes I wish I could go back to winter vacation. It felt a little safer then, within the walls of my childhood home. Being here, it sends all those horrific events rushing back.” I lower my head to Tripp’s chest, listening to the gentle beat of his heart.

His chest is familiar. It’s the one I’d laid on, staring at the stars inside a glass igloo, allowing me to look up at the winter stars. It’s the chest I ran to, scampering away from the nightmares greeting me in the middle of most nights.

“That’s why I’m here.” He cups my face, pulling me away from him. “I brought all of your favorites.”

Sweet Tripp. He’s always there, under the surface, willing to come out every so often, but when he shows his face, it’s a sight to see.

I pop onto my tiptoes, dropping my lips to his. It’s soft and by the way his eyes widen, unexpected. We’ve kissed a handful of times. I’ve been trying to keep a distance, refusing to be the girl who leads someone on. Tripp and I are in a constant limbo of being something and being nothing. The kiss is tender, leaving it up for interpretation.

“That’s nice.” His thumb ghosts over my bottom lip. He looks at me sometimes as if I’m fragile and something worthy of protecting. A loving glance here or there is why I keep coming back. I don’t know if he’s what I want, but everything gets muddled amongst what I believe I need.

“Now, let’s see how well you know me.” I put distance between us as I always do. It’s my own way of not allowing him too close. The practice is completely unfair to him, yet I continue to do it.

I start to open the containers. Pork dumplings and shrimp fried