All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) by Kristen James Read Free Book Online

Marcus
hadn’t said anything through all of that. In fact, he didn’t jump all over me
for pausing and reading the flier several times, or for writing the number on
my hand. He didn’t say anything about anything, but he was eerily silent, icy
even.
    So I asked him, what is your problem? If you’re not a
ghost haunting me or a schizophrenic voice in my head, what do you have to
worry about?
    Not why I’m being quiet, babe.
    He exhaled slowly, like he was ten shades past frustrated.
    And what’s going to happen if you spill this to someone?
    It’s anonymous. I’m not going to tell them who I am.
    I stepped back inside the English building for a sec, just
to see if Nash had hung around. I didn’t see him. I wondered about him waiting
outside the classroom. I was the only person left so he must have been waiting
for me. After a quick glance around to make sure Nash wasn’t somewhere
watching, I checked my phone. He’d gotten my number last week but we hadn’t talked
much yet.
    There was a text.
    Sorry to miss you. Chat later?
    I texted back, Sure.
    Then, while walking, I checked my phone a few times, feeling
those phantom buzzes, but he didn’t text back.
    So your type is Tom Cruise lookalikes?
    I puffed out my breath, irritated. There wasn’t anyone right
by me, and I realized most people walking by themselves were talking on their
cell phones or a Bluetooth. Maybe we all looked crazy.
    “ Kyle looks like Colin Egglesfield … who, come to
think of it, does look like a young Tom Cruise. But anyway. Nash is much
taller, with darker hair and dark brown eyes.” I wasn’t going to say so, but I
could see what he meant about Nash. Something about his face structure. “Why?
Are you short with blond hair and green eyes or something?”
    Marcus didn’t answer and I felt bad. Actually, I didn’t know
if I had a type. My mind wandered, remembering. There had been a guy one time.
I was up in Portland with Kris, and we rode the Max train downtown. At one of
the stops, I noticed a man with sunny blond hair, long and wavy, but not
exactly messy. Just doing what it wanted. He had a gray knit sweater on with a
black T-shirt underneath, and it struck me as something a guy would wear
walking on the docks.
    So, were you attracted based on his looks or because he looked
adventurous?
    “I’d have to say both … and I can’t believe I’m telling you
something like that.”
    I turned at the corner and walked down to the student
parking lot to my classic red Toyota. It was two miles to the house, but I had
a backpack full of books. I got in the car and started driving home.
    Seems only fair if you share that kind of stuff. Here I am
caught up in some kind of Sex in the City with guys wanting to crawl all over you while you play Miss Cool. They think
you’re deep and mysterious.
    “Are you saying I’m not?”
    Well, babe, I’m inside your head. But, yeah, you’re
complicated.
    This was complicated.
    The house was empty when I got home, so I locked myself in
my room, and called the number I’d written down.
    Avery, this is a bad idea!
     “Student crisis hotline … I’m Brian, and I’m here to listen
and talk. What’s your name?”
    “Hi Brian, I’m … Chelsea.”
    “Hi Chelsea.” He didn’t flinch at the obvious lie. “How’s it
going?”
     “Good, I guess. I mean, not so good all the time. My life
was good, but then this thing happened …” I rambled on for a while without
conveying any kind of useful information, and it wasn’t making me feel any
better. I had to talk over Marcus part of the time too. I probably sounded like
I was strung out on drugs.
    “So something upsetting happened? Are you physically hurt?”
    “No.”
    “So this didn’t involve any kind of … invasion into your
space?”
    I thought I knew what he was getting at, like someone trying
to rape me, but right at first, I thought he somehow knew about Marcus in my
head. I waited too long, sounding suspicious I’m sure. “No,