Read Online The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2) by Alicia Kobishop - Free Book Online Page A

petite with curves in all the right places.  I bet I could lift her like she was nothing.  I bet I could maneuver her any way I wanted if we ever did the things my mind wouldn’t let me stop thinking about doing.
    I splashed cold water on my face and looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.  Tension lined my face.  I needed to get a fucking grip. 
    Why was her mirror so smudged?  I took the hand towel, and just as I was about to wipe the smudge away, I noticed that the smudge was actually letters.  F.M.L. 
    Fuck my life?  An unexpected thing to see from someone like her.  But the more time I spent with this girl, the more I realized that she’s not the tough, heartless bitch everyone thought she was.  Maybe she’s just lost.  A little hopeless.  And she’s a hell of a lot more fragile than she lets on, that’s for damn sure.  In fact, it’s pretty obvious that being harsh and cold was her shield.  A shield she seemed to put down around me, which was what confused me most. 
    Most people take one look at me, see the height, the tats, and the cannons, and the first thing that registers in their eyes is trepidation.  My own mother says I look “mean.”  Even when I’m not trying to intimidate someone, it just happens.  But not with Pink.  She had no fear. 
    I kind of liked that. 
    Fuck me, I kind of liked her .   
    I took a look at the various “girly” items scattered across her countertop.  Hairspray.  A straightening iron.  Some little paintbrush-looking things.  A black pencil.  Damn, this girl was messy.
    I grabbed the pencil and pressed my index finger to the pointy end.  It left a dark black mark.  It would work perfectly.  I brought it to the mirror and started writing. 
    When I came out to the living room, she was already on the couch.  In a sweatshirt, thank God.
    “Here,” she said, handing me the remote as I sat down next to her.  The TV had already been turned on to the Roku homepage.  “Put on whatever you want.”
    I took the remote and started clicking through Netflix options.  She took a throw pillow and laid down, her head resting on the pillow and her bare feet pressing up against the jeans of my outer thigh.  I wondered if the subtle touch had the same effect on her that it had on me. 
    “Can I ask you something?” I blurted. 
    “Sure.”
    “What happened last night?  With Logan?”
    She stayed silent, but the way her body tensed, the way she removed her feet from my leg and curled her knees closer to her chest, spoke volumes.  I almost kicked myself for asking, but I had to know. 
    “I’m not judging,” I continued. “I think you’re fun as hell, actually.  And pretty cool too.  But Logan’s my friend, and he’s real torn up about it.  Maybe we could figure it out together—”
    “I don’t want to talk about it, Matt,” she mumbled into her pillow.  “Please.”
    Shit, she wasn’t going to spill it.  And I wouldn’t force it, knowing that it would just feed into whatever complex she had about ulterior motives.  She didn’t seem to comprehend the fact that sometimes people just do things for others for the simple fact that they need help.  That the only thing needed in return is the feeling they get when they help someone. 
    I knew if I pushed the issue, she’d close herself off, thinking that I was only here to get answers.  And even though answers would be a bonus, that wasn’t the real reason I came today.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that she was the reason I was here.  Just her.  Her laugh.  Her touch.  Her jokes.  The way she scrunches up her nose when she’s irritated.  The way she chews her food ridiculously longer than the general population does.  Her fucking blond and pink hair.  And right now.  The way her face began to relax and her lips lightly parted, in this very moment, while she fell asleep. 
    And then it hit me that all these months that I’ve been pushing the