Catching Raven by Lauren Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

her
nails and Mia’s knee is bouncing up and down restlessly. They’re acting like a
couple of tweakers on standby.
    Something’s up.
    Without bothering to take her eyes off the door, Mia answers. “She’s
outside.”
    “We just came from outside and we didn’t see her.”
    Emilio grabs a brat off the plate I’m holding and walks over to the
counter to grab a bun and some Dijon mustard, oblivious to what’s happening in
Girl World.
    “That’s because she went out front to break up with Brandon,” Tori
explains, then she takes a cue from Emilio and stands up and walks over to grab
a brat.
    She’s breaking up with him?
    “How long ago?”
    Tori shrugs. “I don’t know, fifteen minutes?”
    Without thinking, I shove the plate into her unsteady arms and leave to
go find Raven.
    “Hey! Warn me next time before you do that!”
    The door closes behind me. I ignore Tori’s comment and take the stairs
two at a time until I reach the pavement. Raven’s car is still parked in its
designated spot. I look around for Brandon’s car, but it’s nowhere in sight.
    Shit. Maybe she left with him?
    No. She wouldn’t leave without telling one of us.
    The sound of sniffling beckons my attention. I look over to find Raven sitting
on the grass underneath a tree. She’s hugging her knees to her chest
protectively, crying. Christ. The drama. Everything’s life or death with this
girl. I’m relieved she broke it off with What’s His Face, though. They were a
wrong fit from the start. The guy can’t hang. I tried to tell her that several
times, but did she listen? Of course not.
    I’ll bet he can’t even name her favorite book. It’s East of Eden, by
the way. The reason it’s her favorite? It’s the only book she deems powerful
enough to make her self-reflect. Favorite movie? Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
    Her newest crisis is feeling torn between majoring in what’s practical
and chasing her dreams as far as they’ll take her. She’s hates uncertainty, but
loves surprises. Those tidbits will get you VIP status. It’s a good thing we
each have something special planned later.
    What about her fears? Does he know she’s deathly afraid of cockroaches
and thrift shopping? I can’t get her anywhere near a Goodwill or Salvation
Army. She’ll hyperventilate. No, that doesn’t mean she’s shallow. She’s just
more honest about her phobias than most.
    When she’s upset, she organizes anything and everything she can get her
hands on. That’s why she’s banned from my kitchen cupboards, my paint
collection, and my closet. I can never find anything after she’s done.
    I guess love is similar to art in that regard. It’s picking up on the
small, seemingly insignificant aspects. Paying close attention to things that
most people skip over and don’t think twice about. An eye for detail. That’s
what separates me from the rest of the pack. I’m not saying I’m worthy of her.
Who am I kidding? What can I offer? She deserves to live in a castle, and all I
can give her is a shack. It would be colorful and nicely decorated, though.
Original artwork.
    But back to the crying thing. I can’t stand to watch her cry. I sigh and
walk over there, on a mission to make it all better.
    “What happened?”
    She lifts her head, surprised to see me. Black mascara streaks are
running down her cheeks, and her eyes are all red and puffy.
    I shove both hands into my pockets and shuffle my feet back and forth,
scuffing my paint-splattered Tims. I’m not good with sadness. Or coming up with
the right thing to say. But if I don’t pipe in, this level of discomfort is
going to become unbearable. Neither of us wants that. I pull myself together.
“Let me rephrase. Why the fuck are you crying on your birthday?”
    “I broke up with Brandon. He kicked me out of his car and took off.”
    “Sooo...he took it well then?” I deadpan.
    She rolls her raccoon eyes and kicks me so hard in the shin I double
over.
    “Dammit, woman! Get a grip!”
    She