46
" Hey,” I say, taking a seat on an island stool. “Did anyone call for me?”
“Your dad and I had a great day; thanks for asking.” Mom smirks.
“How was your day? Did anyone call for me?” I smile.
She dumps a gob of coconut oil into her raw-ful mixture. “Anyone meaning Ben?”
“Am I that transparent?”
“It’s just that I was sixteen once, too.”
“Right,” I say, shuddering even to think of her pre-forty, pre-me, pre-Dad, when it was just her hippie self, burning incense, going braless, and dating poets. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
47
" Oh, and because I don’t have a dating history as big as your mouth, it doesn’t quite measure up?” he asks.
“I hate to break this to you, but that isn’t the only thing of yours that doesn’t measure up.” She waggles her pinkie at him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He grins.
“I think I’m all set,” I interrupt, zipping up my bag.
“Don’t forget this.” Still cuddling my sweater, Wes purrs a couple of times before tossing it my way.
“Yeah, I can’t imagine why your dad thinks of you as feminine,” Kimmie mocks. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
48
" I clear my throat, realizing how little I’ve accomplished during this conversation. “So, everything with you is great?” I say in a final attempt to get some scoop. “No problems? No demons in your closet? Nothing weird going on?”
“What’s up with you?” he asks, double-dipping a fry. “You were like this on the phone the other day, too.”
“Just making conversation.”
“Psycho conversation, maybe.”
“Speaking of psychos,” I half joke. “Anyone in your life I should know about?”
“Just one,” he says, giving me a pointed look. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
50
" What’s the verdict?” Kimmie asks, peering back at me.
I stare down at the jumble of words. “I can’t quite tell yet.”
“Give us a clue,” Wes says. “I love puzzles.”
“That’s because you are one,” Kimmie jokes.
I read them the list of words: ARE, ALONE, YOU, NEVER, EYE, WATCHING, ALWAYS, AM.
Not five seconds later, Wes has the whole thing figured out. “YOU ARE NEVER ALONE. EYE AM ALWAYS WATCHING!” he says, making his voice all deep and throaty.
“Wait, seriously?” I ask, completely bewildered by the idea that he’d be able to unravel the message so quickly. I look at the individual words, making sure they’re all included, and that he didn’t add any extra.
“What can I say? I’m good at puzzles.”
“Are you good at making them, too?” Kimmie asks. “Because it’s a little scary how you were able to figure that out so fast.”
“Do you think it matters that the “eye” in the puzzle is the noun and not the pronoun?” I ask them.
“Since when is it a requirement for psychos to be good in English?” Wes asks.
“Only you would know.” Kimmie glares at him.
“Plus, it’s a puzzle,” he says, ignoring her comment. “You have to expect a few quirks.”
“I don’t know,” I say, still staring at the words. “Maybe there’s some other message here. Maybe we need to try unscrambling it another way.”
“Such as ‘EYE AM NEVER ALONE. YOU ARE ALWAYS WATCHING,’” he suggests. “Or perhaps the ever-favorite. ‘YOU ARE NEVER WATCHING. EYE AM ALWAYS ALONE.’”
Kimmie scoots farther away from him in her seat. “Okay, you really are starting to scare me. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
54
" Hi,” I say, stopping right in front of him. “I missed you today in chemistry.”
“I got to school a little late.”
“But you left my house early,” I say, wondering what time he did in fact leave—if he waited until I fell asleep or stayed until the last possible moment.
“I still overslept,” he explains.
“I’m sorry if that was my fault.”
“I think it was your fault.” He smiles wider. “Once I got home, I couldn’t really fall asleep. Too wound up, I guess.”
“Because of all the drama with Adam?”
He shakes his head and touches the side of my face, raising my chin slightly to kiss my lips. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
58
" Wes knocks a couple of times, but Adam doesn’t answer. “Jackpot,” he says, kneeling down to examine the lock. He takes the bundle of wire from his pocket and proceeds to make a key of sorts.
“You’re not going to break in?” I ask.
“Well, um, yeah. Kimmie rolls her eyes, as if the answer’s completely obvious.
Wes sticks his key into the lock and starts to jiggle it back and forth. A moment later, the doorknob turns.
Only, Wes isn’t the one turning it.
Piper then whips the door open. “Oh, my god,” she says, smacking her chest like we’ve scared her, too.
“We were looking for Adam.” I peek past her into the apartment.
“He isn’t here,” she says, glaring up at Wes, no doubt annoyed that he’s attempting to pick the lock.
“Would you believe that I dropped the contact?” he asks, before finally getting up.
“Not likely, since you’re wearing glasses.”
Kimmie bops him on the head with her Tupperware purse. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
60
" Ben stands just behind me, and we begin to wedge out a fresh piece of clay. I try my best to concentrate, to ignore the fact that my heart is beating at five times its normal speed. I watch his arms as he kneads the clay—almost a little too hard—and as the muscles in his forearms flex. “That’s good,” I say, in an effort to stay focused. I dip a sponge into a bowl of water and squeeze the droplets down over his hands to keep things moist.
After several minutes, Ben lets me take the lead. I place my palms over the clay mound and close my eyes. Meanwhile, Ben’s chest grazes my shoulders, and his clay-soaked fingers stroke the length of my arms.
“You’re doing great,” he whispers in my ear.
We continue to sculpt for another hour, working the mound down into a flattened surface—until we have a total of four tiles.
And until I can no longer hold myself back.
I turn around to face him.
“Camelia?” He squints slightly.
I bite my lip, wishing that he could read my mind, and that he would kiss me until my lips ache. “What are you thinking?” I ask, slipping my hand inside the waistband of his jeans and pulling him closer. "
― Laurie Faria Stolarz , Deadly Little Games (Touch, #3)
