Lark by Erica Cope Read Free Book Online Page A

harden.
                  “He stares at you a lot?”
                  “Yeah. At least I think he’s staring at me.” I am suddenly embarrassed. I don't know why he is asking me this. I know he saw Brian watching me earlier.
                  “When did you first notice this?”
                  “I don't know. Recently,” I stammer, made uncomfortable by the seriousness in Grey's tone. “I think the first time I gave him a ride to work? A week or so ago?”
                  “Have you noticed anything else strange about him?” I’m not really sure what Grey is getting at but his intensity is making me nervous.
                  “Other than the fact that he smells bad? No.” I try to lighten the mood, but I’m not sure it's working.
                  “Let me know immediately if you do notice anything, okay?”
                  “Um, sure?”
                  “No. Promise,” he insists. “Promise me you will let me know.”
                  “Okay, Grey. I promise.”
                  “Thank you.” He sighs in relief. “And don't pick him up anymore. I don't want you to be alone with him.”
                  “That's a little over the top, don't you think? He hasn't done anything except stare at me. And yeah, it’s creepy, but it's not like he is trying to hurt me,” I snapped. “Besides, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you protecting me.”
                  I don’t really like him telling me what do.
                  “Just please don't pick him up anymore. I don't trust him.”
                  “Fine. Whatever.” Who does he think he is? It's not like he’s my boyfriend. But maybe that’s why he is acting like this? Did he change his mind about us? He did hold my hand tonight. But still, I don't see the need for his overreaction.
                  “Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow.” He gently kisses my cheek and my irritation vanishes. I’m half tempted to turn my head and finally introduce his lips to my own, but I control myself. “Good night,” I whisper as I get into my car.
     
     

Chapter 4
     
                  Since I didn't plan on actually going to the dance until the last minute, I never scheduled a hair appointment. Hannah offered to help, but her appointment ran late so I decided to wing it myself. Unfortunately, I lack the girly-ness gene that most females have, making them naturally good at applying make-up and styling hair. Simple ponytails for games I can handle, but anything more complex than that and I am at a loss. As for applying make-up? I don’t ever wear it. Hannah says my skin is perfect so I don’t need to wear anything other than a light powder, but she is always trying to get me to play up my eyes. She actually buys me make-up for my birthday every year, so I’m well-stocked though I have no idea what to do with any of it. I know what it’s all for, I just lack the artistic ability to apply it to my face without ending up looking like a clown.
    Can’t go wrong with just a little mascara though, right? I might even put on some tinted lipgloss instead of my usual chapstick. Hannah will be so proud , I laugh to myself as I pull out the tube of black goopy stuff.
    In typical Mia form, I stab myself in the eye with the mascara wand. Twice. I couldn't even figure out how to work the curling iron right. All my attempts at perfect bouncy curls fall pathetically limp. I am tempted to give up and just leave it long and straight down my back. What I wouldn't do for the curls that Maddie has been blessed with. I eventually manage to get my hair to somewhat cooperate and twist it up in a high ballerina bun. My one errant lock of hair that always kinks out funny falls loose, framing my face. It looks like I did it on purpose, so I don't fret over