Read Online Heart Shaped Rock by Laura Roppe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Roppe
Ads: Link
guttural laugh.
I freeze. I know that laugh. Oh my God. I look down at his clothes. Jeans. Combat boots. He’s not wearing the leather jacket, but...
Another plume of smoke from the bonfire hits and envelops us. Again, I cough ferociously. But he isn’t coughing at all.
When the smoke clears, he lets out his breath. “You’re a bonfire rookie, Shaynee.”
When he says my name, my stomach flips over and that electricity from our handshake bounces throughout my body.
He turns to look at me, flashing a wicked grin, and I finally see those startling blue eyes in the flickering light confirming what I already know. Motorcycle Boy.
“When you see smoke coming,” he says, “you gotta hold your breath ‘til it passes.”
“Or, hey,” I say, “here’s an idea—we could just move back a bit.”
“What, and sacrifice warmth?” He grins.
“It is a bit of a Sophie’s Choice , isn’t it?”
Dean laughs like he actually understands my movie reference.
Gah, is it super-duper hot out here tonight? Am I sitting way too close to the fire? Is my hair burning? “Actually, holding my breath is my superpower,” I blurt. “I can hold my breath all day long.” God, I sound like such a dork.
“Well, that’s a handy superpower. You could totally team up with Aquaman and fight underwater crime and stuff.” He shoots me a crooked smile. “And make some really beautiful tadpoles.”
I can’t take it anymore. I have to call a spade a spade. “You’re the guy on the motorcycle.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Motorcycle Boy.”
“Yes, I am. And you’re the girl with the walkie-talkie. Walkie-Talkie Girl.” He laughs.
That laugh. It holds nothing back. It’s warm and intoxicating and infectious. And irritating and annoying and cocky. He pisses me off.
“You sure got mad at me earlier. What’d I do to make you so mad?”
“I’m pretty sure it started when you breathed.”
He laughs again, this time throwing his head back.
I guess I’m just a laugh riot. What is so damned funny?
He regains his composure and smiles at me, light from the fire dancing across his perfectly arranged face. Wow, that really is quite a face.
“So, Shaynee, what’s the deal with the walkie-talkie?” he asks.
To admit the extent of my dorkdom would be way too embarrassing. “Well, Dean, what’s the deal with the motorcycle ? Are you trying to be James Dean, riding around in your leather jacket, making all the girls swoon? Is Dean even your real name?”
Why the heck am I being so rude? I’m being an absolute bitch. Why?
“Yeah, you got me,” he says, throwing up his hands. Surprisingly, his tone is easy and playful, without a hint of annoyance. “That’s exactly right. I have no imagination whatsoever, and imitating James Dean’s as big as I can dream. In fact, I’ll let you in on my deep, dark secret.” He leans in close to me. “My real name is actually Frodo.”
I’m taken off guard. I look down, trying to hide my smile. So, he’s not a total dumbass. Interesting. And he smells really good, too.
“Okay, Shaynee-girl,” he says, and my head snaps up. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Oh yeah, Frodo, what’s that?”
His face is etched in marble. I can’t find an imperfection on it. I look down. I can’t even imagine what he thinks of me right now. I’m acting like a spazzoid. And an even bigger jerk.
“Since you’re such a badass breath-holder and all, I issue you a challenge. But be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart.”
“Well, I’m in luck, then. I don’t have a heart, so I’m good.”
“No heart, huh? That’s too bad. I’d never guess it, looking at you.”
“There’s a lot you’d never guess, looking at me.”
There’s a moment of heavy silence between us as he considers me. His smirk is gone. His eyes have lost their cocky sparkle. He’s looking at me with such earnest assessment, such undivided attention, such acceptance , I have to look away to
I freeze. I know that laugh. Oh my God. I look down at his clothes. Jeans. Combat boots. He’s not wearing the leather jacket, but...
Another plume of smoke from the bonfire hits and envelops us. Again, I cough ferociously. But he isn’t coughing at all.
When the smoke clears, he lets out his breath. “You’re a bonfire rookie, Shaynee.”
When he says my name, my stomach flips over and that electricity from our handshake bounces throughout my body.
He turns to look at me, flashing a wicked grin, and I finally see those startling blue eyes in the flickering light confirming what I already know. Motorcycle Boy.
“When you see smoke coming,” he says, “you gotta hold your breath ‘til it passes.”
“Or, hey,” I say, “here’s an idea—we could just move back a bit.”
“What, and sacrifice warmth?” He grins.
“It is a bit of a Sophie’s Choice , isn’t it?”
Dean laughs like he actually understands my movie reference.
Gah, is it super-duper hot out here tonight? Am I sitting way too close to the fire? Is my hair burning? “Actually, holding my breath is my superpower,” I blurt. “I can hold my breath all day long.” God, I sound like such a dork.
“Well, that’s a handy superpower. You could totally team up with Aquaman and fight underwater crime and stuff.” He shoots me a crooked smile. “And make some really beautiful tadpoles.”
I can’t take it anymore. I have to call a spade a spade. “You’re the guy on the motorcycle.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Motorcycle Boy.”
“Yes, I am. And you’re the girl with the walkie-talkie. Walkie-Talkie Girl.” He laughs.
That laugh. It holds nothing back. It’s warm and intoxicating and infectious. And irritating and annoying and cocky. He pisses me off.
“You sure got mad at me earlier. What’d I do to make you so mad?”
“I’m pretty sure it started when you breathed.”
He laughs again, this time throwing his head back.
I guess I’m just a laugh riot. What is so damned funny?
He regains his composure and smiles at me, light from the fire dancing across his perfectly arranged face. Wow, that really is quite a face.
“So, Shaynee, what’s the deal with the walkie-talkie?” he asks.
To admit the extent of my dorkdom would be way too embarrassing. “Well, Dean, what’s the deal with the motorcycle ? Are you trying to be James Dean, riding around in your leather jacket, making all the girls swoon? Is Dean even your real name?”
Why the heck am I being so rude? I’m being an absolute bitch. Why?
“Yeah, you got me,” he says, throwing up his hands. Surprisingly, his tone is easy and playful, without a hint of annoyance. “That’s exactly right. I have no imagination whatsoever, and imitating James Dean’s as big as I can dream. In fact, I’ll let you in on my deep, dark secret.” He leans in close to me. “My real name is actually Frodo.”
I’m taken off guard. I look down, trying to hide my smile. So, he’s not a total dumbass. Interesting. And he smells really good, too.
“Okay, Shaynee-girl,” he says, and my head snaps up. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Oh yeah, Frodo, what’s that?”
His face is etched in marble. I can’t find an imperfection on it. I look down. I can’t even imagine what he thinks of me right now. I’m acting like a spazzoid. And an even bigger jerk.
“Since you’re such a badass breath-holder and all, I issue you a challenge. But be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart.”
“Well, I’m in luck, then. I don’t have a heart, so I’m good.”
“No heart, huh? That’s too bad. I’d never guess it, looking at you.”
“There’s a lot you’d never guess, looking at me.”
There’s a moment of heavy silence between us as he considers me. His smirk is gone. His eyes have lost their cocky sparkle. He’s looking at me with such earnest assessment, such undivided attention, such acceptance , I have to look away to
Similar Books
