Miss Me Not by Tiffany King Read Free Book Online Page A

as his face clouded over.
    "How do you do that?" I asked, trying to ignore the spasm of pain that had flitted across his face.
    "Do what?" he asked, smiling at me to break up the sudden shift our conversation had taken.
    I raised my eyebrow at him, making it clear I wasn't buying his innocent act.
    "I hate to break it to you, but you're not that hard to read."
    "I'm sure," I said sarcastically. "The question is, why bother? Did you take some bet from your Jockheads that you could score with the dark, brooding, ghost-like girl?" I sniped out.
    "Get a grip. You're pricklier than a feral cat," he said, sitting up.
    "Too bad for you, I'm not in heat," I said, calming down.
    He laughed outright. "You say the funniest stuff sometimes."
    "You don't get out much, do you?" I asked, unzipping my backpack to remove my crinkled study guide.
    "Why don't you ever smile?" he asked, once again throwing me for a loop.
    "What makes you think I don't?" I said, fighting the urge to bolt.
    "I've watched you for the last few years, and you always have the same look on your face."
    "How do you know I'm not like that actress they're always mocking, the one whose expressions they claim never change? What's her name? Kristen Stewart. Besides, what are you like some crazy stalker dude? Is this where you bind and gag me and drag me off to the woods to murder me?" I asked, indicating the woods that boarded the school property behind us.
    "There you go again. Man, do you have an imagination. Let me ask you, would you be here if you thought I was crazy like that?" he asked with sudden seriousness.
    "Probably," I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "Shouldn't we be studying?" I added, holding up the paper.
    "Do you have some kind of death wish?" he asked, ignoring the study guide. "Or do you just like the attention?"
    "God, you're an asshole," I said, scrambling to my feet as my anger boiled over. "Here's the deal, Jockstrap. Unlike you and your cronies, I don't feel the constant need for attention. If I did, you'd know it," I said, striding away. Who did he think he was? He didn't know me, and if he did, he wouldn't be so keen to spend time with me. The rumors that surrounded me were just the tip of the iceberg.
    "Hey, wait," he said, jogging up behind me and snagging my wrist in his hand.
    I stopped dead in my tracks at his touch. Panic clawed its way up through me as I looked down at his hand that encircled my slender wrist. Four years. It had been four years since anyone touched me. Gasping for air, I somehow forgot how to breathe. Darkness crept in slowly, obscuring my vision as I started to hyperventilate.
    "Madison?" Dean said in a voice that sounded like it was traveling through a cave. I swayed as the darkness closed in, completely obscuring Dean's panicked expression from view. I felt his arms wrap around me as my legs liquefied beneath me. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. I'd gone from being touched for the first time in forever to being wrapped in someone's arms in the blink of an eye. The world faded away and I welcomed it. I'd broken my one rule.
    ***
    I awakened slowly as my body swayed back and forth. "What are you doing?" I gasped, suddenly realizing where I was as Dean repositioned me in his arms.
    "Carrying you to the nurse's office. In case you missed it, you passed out back there," he answered, looking at me like I had suddenly sprouted an extra head.
    "Put me down," I demanded, squirming in his arms. "I don't need to go to the clinic. I just forgot to breathe. It's not the first time," I added, increasing my squirming until he was forced to set me down. Much to my dismay, he kept a hand firmly on my arm, making sure I had my footing.
    "Does that happen often?" he asked, still looking stressed.
    "No," I answered shortly, looking at his hand that still held me in place.
    "Are you pregnant?"
    "Pregnant? God no, that would require touching," I said pointedly, jerking my arm from his grasp. "I don't do touching," I said, turning