Hush, Hush #1 by Becca Fitzpatrick Read Free Book Online Page A

said, sprawling herself across 56
    the Neon’s hood in a hug. “A teeny-tiny crack. That’s it!”
    I manufactured a smile, but my stomach soured. Five minutes ago, the window was smashed out and the door was bowed. Looking at the car now, it seemed impossible. No, it seemed crazy. But I saw his fist punch through the glass, and I felt his fingernails bite into my shoulder.
    Hadn’t I?
    The harder I tried to recall the crash, the more I couldn’t. Little blips of missing information cut across my memory. The details were fading.
    Was he tall? Short? Thin? Bulky? Had he said anything?
    I couldn’t remember. That was the most frightening part.
    Vee and I left her house at seven fifteen the following morning and drove to Enzo’s Bistro to grab a breakfast of steamed milk. With my hands wrapped around my china cup, I tried to warm away the deep chill inside me. I’d showered, pulled on a camisole and cardigan borrowed from Vee’s closet, and swept on some makeup, but I hardly remembered doing it.
    “Don’t look now,” Vee said, “but Mr. Green Sweater keeps looking this way, estimating your long legs through your jeans… . Oh! He just saluted me. I am not kidding. A little two-finger military salute. How adorable.”
    I wasn’t listening. Last night’s accident had replayed itself in my head all night, chasing away any chance of sleep. My thoughts were in tangles, my eyes were dry and heavy, and I couldn’t concentrate.
    “Mr. Green Sweater looks normal, but his wingman looks hard-core bad boy,” said Vee. “Emits a certain don’t-mess-with-me signal. Tell me he doesn’t look like Dracula’s spawn. Tell me I’m imagining things.”

    57
    Lifting my eyes just high enough to get a look at him without appearing that I was, I took in his fine-boned, handsome face. Blond hair hung at his shoulders. Eyes the color of chrome. Unshaven. Impeccably dressed in a tailored jacket over his green sweater and dark designer jeans. I said,
    “You’re imagining things.”
    “Did you miss the deep-set eyes? The widow’s peak? The tall, lanky build? He might even be tall enough for me.”
    Vee is closing in on six feet tall, but she has a thing for heels. High heels.
    She also has a thing about not dating shorter guys.
    “Okay, what’s wrong?” Vee asked. “You’ve gone all incommunicado.
    This isn’t about the crack in my windshield, is it? So what if you hit an animal? It could happen to anyone. Granted, the chances would be a lot slimmer if your mom relocated out of the wilderness.”
    I was going to tell Vee the truth about what happened. Soon. I just needed a little time to sort out the details. The problem was, I didn’t see how I could. The only details left were spotty, at best. It was as if an eraser had scrubbed my memory blank. Thinking back, I remembered the heavy rain cascading down the Neon’s windows, causing everything outside to blur. Had I in fact hit a deer?
    “Mmm, check it out,” said Vee. “Mr. Green Sweater is getting out of his seat. Now that’s a body that hits the gym regularly. He is definitely making his way toward us, his eyes pursuing the real estate, your real estate, that is.”
    A half beat later we were greeted with a low, pleasant “Hello.”
    Vee and I looked up at the same time. Mr. Green Sweater stood just back from our table, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. He was 58
    blue-eyed, with stylishly shaggy blond hair swept across his forehead.
    “Hello yourself,” Vee said. “I’m Vee. This is Nora Grey.”
    I frowned at Vee. I did not appreciate her tagging on my last name, feeling that it violated an unspoken contract between girls, let alone best friends, upon meeting unknown boys. I gave a halfhearted wave and brought my cup to my lips, immediately scalding my tongue.
    He dragged a chair over from the next table and sat backward on it, his arms resting where his back should have been. Holding a hand out to me, he said, “I’m Elliot Saunders.” Feeling