Asa didn’t really know what to say to that, because, yes, Willa was right. Isla liked the casual flings, the whole no-strings-attached ordeal. He couldn’t see what the problem was with that.
“It’s her life,” he eventually said, for the first time wanting to get away rather than grasp at the chance to have a conversation with Willa. “And her body too, by the way.”
She didn’t respond to that and just eyed Asa carefully like she was trying to figure something out.
But he was no longer interested in continuing that particular conversation with her and found himself walking away without blinking an eye.
•••
“Asa.”
Asa’s head jerked up at the unexpected voice, his startled eyes landing on grey ones.
No. Wait. Not grey. They were more silvery now that he looked at them properly.
Silvery. Was that even possible? He didn’t know.
“Yeah, Car—?” he paused abruptly before he said her name, feeling weird for some reason, “—men?”
Her forehead crinkled ever so slightly as if trying to understand the subtle break in her name. She must be painting a hundred different theories in her head already.
“I was wondering whether you’d decided on how you want me to help you get the girl,” she said, voice as smooth as her straight black hair. Or was it the darkest shade of indigo?
“Get the girl?” he repeated, like an idiot. Carmen always made him look like an idiot, he realised.
“Willa,” she said.
It felt like a crime to describe everything that left Carmen’s mouth as “said”. It seemed too simple. Too ordinary. Too shallow for someone with as much depth as her.
Jesus, Asa thought wildly, I am losing my freaking mind.
“What about Willa?” He tried making out her eyes, the way those pools of silvery grey blended into the white of her eye. They looked almost like the first few dark clouds on a rainy day moving into the sky, floating in front of the white ones.
“I thought you liked her?” she said patiently. “And that you really needed my help to get to her.”
Did he like Willa? Asa didn’t think so. And he certainly didn’t deem it necessary to explain to this girl why he was doing what he was doing. He didn’t think he could put what he felt and why it drove him to do pretty stupid things into words.
Sometimes he’d think he was an absolute idiot for needing to wash away the disapproval in Willa’s eyes. But then he’d see Hunter and remember the prick’s words, resonating in his head. Over and over and over. Like a broken record.
Not just the words from a few days back and not just from Hunter but a lifetime worth of them—from a few classmates and even from strangers sometimes when he bumped into them at supermarkets or malls. Different people but with the same shunning message. It was always like that ever since Asa could remember. Freshman year, sophomore year, junior year. And this year too.
“Right,” he muttered, face blank. “And you’re just really eager to help me?”
“No.” She narrowed those eyes of hers. “I’m just really eager to have my journal back.”
Her journal. Broken moon. Starless sky. Frozen sun. Wilted flowers. Faceless girl.
Goddamn, her journal.
“Right,” he said.
“So, what is it that you want?”
Asa stared at her, frustrated beyond belief that he couldn’t figure her out. She was just… Ugh, she was just so Carmen. She spoke tonelessly, stared expressionlessly and walked aimlessly. It’s like she just existed. Nothing more, nothing less. Asa wanted to throw a godforsaken book at her face. Maybe that’d get a reaction out of her. Some reaction. Any reaction.
When he didn’t answer and just continued to stare at her like he was trying to peel away the skin from her head and peer inside to see how her mind worked, she sighed.
“You haven’t come up with anything yet?” She tugged at the chain around her neck. “Fine. How about you join our table for lunch today?” she suggested. “Under the pretence that we’re friends, you and I.”
Asa merely nodded, wondering where his energy had run off to. This was supposed to be him coming up with the ideas, with ways to get to Willa. But somehow, he wasn’t feeling the thrill of it all today.
He was somewhat grateful, though, that Carmen could pick up the pieces that he’d thrown around and string them together to form an actual plan while he seemed to be completely out of it.
“That sounds great,” he mumbled, finding this situation suddenly too awkward and just wanting to bolt out of there. “See you at lunch then.”
She just stood there, right in front of him, her head tilted to the side very slightly as if there was something she needed to look at past his flesh and bones. The way she stared at that space was like she was looking right through him and seeing things he didn’t want her to see.
“Bye, Asa,” she murmured, finally tearing her eyes away, and headed in the opposite direction.
13.
The Storm Inside
Carmen’s mind was a wreck.
Her muscles, nerves—everything—seemed to be coiled into a tight ball in a never-ending worry. Worry that Asa might not be half the decent person she thought he was and that he might have crossed the line and gone through her art journal.
Yes, Carmen was quite the observer, and she liked noticing the little things about the people she came across. It helped her a lot in deducing someone’s character even before she got to know them. That didn’t mean she was a profiler, though. She could be so wrong about a person as well, she knew that. And right now, it was grinding away at her insides.
Before, she could confidently say she liked Asa. As a person, that is. That she’d noticed his random
