Black Waters (Tainted Waters #2) - India R Adams Page 0,3

sound mind. And that same grin seemed to rub Whit in all the wrong places. As she marched away, I yelled, “Ahhh, all right. I pissed you off. I’m sorry. Come back, baby!” but was pleased the kiss had been stalled.

Crash the—the, okay, so Whit was the one with name-calling talents. Anyway, Crash the ass chased after Whit, said something to her, and did some sort of epilepsy dance that I was sure would have her running for the hills. But it didn’t. My girl smiled at Crash like he was her savior, and I was back to wanting to puke.

Inside the rink, things were even worse. It was like witnessing Whit fall in love right before my bulging eyes. She even shared her popcorn! That had me trembling like a pansy walking barefooted across hot coals. And even though Crash appeared shady, he treated Whit with the utmost respect, so I couldn’t even dislike the guy—besides hating him for reasons that were not his fault—if that makes any sense at all.

Their wheels rolled around the rink to “True Colors,” a couple’s skate song. I was tempted to take the empty bag of popcorn they had shared and shove it down the DJ’s throat for causing this obvious connection. Sending Cyndi Lauper hate mail climbed to the number-one slot on my to-do list for writing a song that was perfectly worded for lost souls needing guidance. What? Cyndi couldn’t have written a song about a perfect girl falling in love with her adorable best friend because she finally saw the light?

With her own shoes back on, Whitney seemed to be hesitant as she walked to me. Her eyes were on the floor as if she were doing something wrong. I was already in my regular shoes because rolling around with newfound lovebirds was as much fun as poking my fingernail beds with rusty needles, over and over.

Thankfully, Ford was entertaining Constance, playfully spinning her around the rink, so I could focus on my current meltdown and observe and monitor Whitney.

Standing in front of me, saying nothing.

My finger tilted her face up. “What’s wrong?” I asked with hope for a miracle lingering in my voice. When she didn’t answer, I pushed a red curl behind her ear so I could see her pixie face. “Whit, talk to me.”

“I don’t know.” She reached out and unconsciously tugged on the hem of my T-shirt. “This feels weird, but… Crash and I are going to leave and, uh, you know.”

My body’s organs rearranged themselves as my imagination soared to unwanted visions unmercifully taunting my brain. “What?” I screeched as if I no longer owned a pair. “You want to go and do—what?”

“Not that Link!” She smacked my chest. “Not giving up my V status ’cause of a successful couple skate. Geez. To dinner, dummy. I—I think I want to get to know him.” She went back to playing with my shirt. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Whitney Summers asking me this should have told me about her insecurities—should have explained so much. Her pulling on my shirt, trying to get me closer, should have been a tell-all sign, but I had much to learn, the hard way apparently.

I wanted to throw a tantrum and scream, “Hell, no! I don’t think it’s a good idea! Because I want you!” But she had been through so much. Who was I to take away her true smiles—not fake smiles that were a façade to hide her pain. I don’t know. I guess when you truly love someone, selfishness somehow steps aside so you can do what’s right for the one you adore even if it shreds you apart, one heartstring at a time.

I peered past her and saw Crash observing us. Strobe lights flashed, but I saw his expression wasn’t one of possession over Whit. It was one of hope. I don’t know exactly how I understood it, but I then knew his tough-guy persona wasn’t real, and I knew he really liked Whit.

As much as I wanted her, she didn’t think she wanted me in that way, so my jealous mouth opened. “Yeah, I think it’s a real good idea to get to know him since you seem to… you seem, you know, to kind of like the guy.”

Complete overload caused shortages in my brain while Whit happily held Crash’s hand, and they left for alone time.

“You still breathing?” asked Harlan as he approached.

“What?”

He patted my shoulder. “Someday, the two of you will