Deadly Little Secret by Laurie Faria Stolarz Read Free Book Online

thought it made her nervous, but then it seemed like she kind of enjoyed it. Because she didn’t back away.
    I want to get close to her again. I want to see how far she’ll let me go—how far I’ll have to push before she has no choice but to let me in.

16

    It’s Monday afternoon, the last block of the day, and a full six minutes and thirty seconds into chemistry class when Ben finally comes in. He smiles at me, totally catching me off guard. And totally making my face heat up.
    I saw him earlier today, too, and I had a similar reaction. We were passing one another near the front entranceway of the school when we collided, and his shoulder bumped against my forearm.
    It nearly made me drop my books.
    I mean, it wasn’t just the mild collision. It was the way he lingered there, asking me if I was okay, telling me it was an accident, running his fingers over my arm to make sure I was okay. He gazed into my eyes and smiled an irresistible grin—as if we shared some secret.
    My heart pounded, and my insides turned to bubbling lava. I secretly hoped his bumping into me wasn’t an accident at all, but 100 percent intentional.
    Ben slides into the seat beside mine and starts flipping through his notes.
    “Is everything okay, Ms. Hammond?” the Sweat-man asks, obviously noticing my spaceyness, and how I can’t stop staring.
    Ben looks beyond delicious, dressed in layers of chocolate brown. He glances at me, checking for my response, and so I give a quick nod, my insides stirring up even more.
    Sweat-man continues with his lecture, failing to say anything about Ben’s lateness, which only confirms the rumor that the principal’s given Ben carte blanche as far as promptness goes. There are several theories as to why his tardiness is accepted. Some think it’s for Ben’s own safety—because he’s constantly getting harassed, and maybe the administration is afraid a fight will break out in the hallway as people are changing classes. Others say it’s because he has a phobia—either claustrophobia or agoraphobia, or possibly a blend of both.
    Personally, I don’t know the reason for his lag time. I’m just really happy to see him.
    While Sweat-man prattles on—something about chemical and ionic bonding—I can’t help noticing the olive tone of Ben’s skin, the mole on his left cheek, and how every few minutes he turns to glance at me.
    When class is finally over, he collects his books in a stack and then moves past me, the sleeve of his shirt brushing against my back, sending tingles all over my skin.
    “I’ll see you later,” he says in a hushed tone.
    I nod, wondering if he really means it, if he really intends to see me later, or if it’s just his way of saying good-bye.
    He heads up to talk to the Sweat-man, and I’m so tempted to hang around and wait until he’s done.
    But Kimmie spots me first. She pulls me from the doorway, yanks me out into the hall, all the while babbling on about how she needs to get to the mall—STAT—to buy herself some decent underwear.
    “Sounds like a dire emergency,” I say, keeping an eye on the chemistry room door.
    “It is an emergency,” she insists. “How can a girl this chic—meaning me, before you ask—run around with a rubber band holding up her undies?”
    “Wait— what ?”
    “I have three words for you: underwear, broken elastic waistband, down around my ankles in Spanish class.”
    “Okay, but that was way more than three words.”
    “Whatever,” she says. “Here, feel my ball.” She gestures toward her waist.
    “No, thanks.” I grimace.
    She smirks and shows me the ball of fabric bulging out from her vintage poodle skirt—where she’s obviously got a rubber band tightened around her panty fabric to hold said panties up.
    Meanwhile, I continue to keep focused on the door, anticipating Ben’s exit.
    “Did Kimmie tell you about Spanish?” Wes shouts, barreling his way up the hallway toward us.
    Kimmie rolls her eyes. “Do we really need to