Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 3

Almost Four Years Ago . . .

“Gemma? Are you even listening to me?” Gia asks me as we’re sitting beneath a tree on the campus of Chicago University. It’s a warm spring afternoon, so I figured I’d take advantage and sit outside.

Gia’s tucking her cardigan underneath her jacket, telling me about her and her husband’s plan to have a baby.

I nod, my fingers itching to return to the new fantasy novel I’ve been reading to avoid studying for exams. At least for the next few days—I tend to procrastinate my studying—something that hasn’t affected my grades yet.

“I heard you,” I say as I trace the spine of my book. “You said you’re trying for a baby. If you’re ready, then that’s good.”

“Ah yea-ah . I don’t want to wait till I’m old and wrinkly.” She scoffs.

“Sure, sure.” I don’t understand her need to rush—we’ll be twenty in a few months—and she just got married. But Gia always wanted the big family as soon as she was able while I want to enjoy my bike life beforehand. I do love James though; he’s great for her .

She sighs. “Seriously, Gem, what do you think?”

I give in, staring at her. “It’s none of my business what you and James decide, but it’d be nice to be an aunt.”

Her smile is enough to tell me I’ve appeased her. “Alright, well, I have to go to class, then study. You should too.”

I nod even though we both know the second she walks away I’ll be nose deep in this book. She wiggles her fingers and leaves me.

That’s when I notice the same guy from last week, sitting on a picnic table. His friends surround him, yet he’s sketching something in his notebook.

Blue eyes. Blond hair covered by a gray beanie.

Our eyes lock, and my pulse hammers in my wrist.

I’m close enough that I can hear one of his friends tell a joke. Everyone laughs except for the blue-eyed boy, who simply smirks and continues whatever he’s doing in his notebook.

I swallow, doing my best to focus on my novel, but it’s kind of impossible to get sucked into the words of a hot book boyfriend when there’s a real hot guy close by.

I peek over the book, only to find him deep into his work. One of the girls in the group whispers something in his ear, turning his head to get his attention.

“You’ll be there, Harvey?” She then says loud enough for me to hear.

He shrugs, lean, muscular shoulders framing him perfectly. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Her smile makes me wonder if she’s his girlfriend or someone yearning for that title.

When the group leaves, he tells them he’ll catch up with them later, so I pretend to read—rereading the same paragraph over and over.

He walks toward me, kicking my ankle boot when he reaches me. I look up, pushing my hair behind my ear .

I’m waiting. Waiting to see what he’ll say or why he thinks kicking someone’s boot is the most appropriate form of greeting.

He grins, his dimples flashing. Then he throws his notebook on my lap.

Oh my God.

I clear my throat when I realize he drew me reading. All the details are there—my boots, the soft waves in my hair, the small vee between my brows as I stare at my book in concentration.

And he’s talented—beyond talented.

He nailed the features of my face: narrow eyes and nose, high cheekbones, heart-shaped lips. He even caught the studs and hoop earrings I have on each ear, although he missed the gemstone fitted in the top crook of one ear.

“You’re really good,” I say, flattered, my eyes unable to tear away from his drawing.

Is this how people see me? This drawing of me is beautiful. ..

“Good enough to get your number?”

His witty comment makes me smile as I watch him sit down awfully close to me. I hand him back his notebook, eager to see more of his work, but I don’t want to impose.

“Do I get to keep the drawing?” I ask, hopeful.

“I’ll tell you what. Let me draw more of you, then you can have this one.” He smiles. “There’s a party tonight. You should come with me...”

“Exams are coming up,” I say instead of what I should say, that partying with strangers doesn’t really sound like something I want to do tonight. But his invitation? It makes my heart beat a little faster.

He shrugs. “So, I’ll help you study. What’re you majoring in?”

“Environmental sciences. Minor in biology.”

He chuckles. “Fuck it, never mind. I’m in arts. But I can be there for moral support.” His dimples show as he says this, his black boot leaning against mine .

I shake my head. This guy is trouble. He’s too beautiful, and he knows all the right things to say.

“So what do you say?”

Exams aren’t for the next two weeks. As a junior in college, I know what I can get away with to ace my classes—and partying for one night won’t ruin my grades.

“Can I bring a friend?” I consider the odds of Layla and Gia coming along with me.

He nods, taking my book away from me. “Bring two. That way you won’t feel guilty spending all your time with me.”

His wink just about makes up my mind.

“The things I do for you, Gem. You’re lucky James is busy tonight and couldn’t help me study.” Gia shakes her head and Layla, our best friend, rolls her eyes so hard I fear they might get stuck.

Unlike me, she hasn’t been quiet about telling Gia she’ll regret marrying young one day. Then she topples over, hanging onto my arm to keep from falling face first. Layla and I pregamed, and she hasn’t learned her drinking limit yet.

“I’m sure you studied enough today,” I tell Gia, who narrows her eyes at me.

“This guy better be worth it.”

I don’t answer her. It’s not like I know him anyway. All I have is his name, his number, and the memory of his dimples.

At the house party, Layla gets drunker by the minute while I sip on a beer. I spot him—Harvey—surrounded by the same guy friends I saw earlier, two girls flirting with him. He smiles at one girl before staring at his friend’s phone. Whatever he sees makes him tip his head over and laugh.

He's hot.

Hotter than my book boyfriends could ever be.

As soon as our eyes lock, his laughter dies along with his smile. I tip my beer in greeting, and he leaves his friends behind to come see me.

“Hey.”

He smiles, leaning closer to me, his hand on my hip. “You brought your two friends?”

I nod toward them. “My sister, Gia, and this is Layla.”

They both gush as they say hi, even Gia, despite him not being her type. She likes the good, sweet ones—like James. I like them ninety-five percent bad and five percent evil.

Five minutes later, Harvey and I are settled on a swing on the front patio. He controls the swing’s movement, going slow, bringing my body close to him. I don’t even know him, and he’s already molding me into the crook of his arms like I belong there.

“I don’t know why I brought you here. Should’ve gone on a date.” He shakes his head, staring down at me. There’s something about him, about his eyes. They dance around, they laugh, they’re a beacon of happiness.

I smile at his comment as a guy walks by us and sits beside me.

“What a lovely evening, swinging and rocking... at a college party.” The stranger grins when he eyes me all over.

“Shut up, Henrik,” Harvey says. “This one’s mine.” His hand moves down my back.

“Fair enough, brother.” The other guy winks, then gets up and passes Harvey a fresh joint on his way out.

“Your brother?” I ask, and he nods.

I notice the large phoenix tattoo on his forearm. It’s raw, perfectly imperfect. The phoenix’s feet are clutching the root of a small rose. The bird’s wings are beautiful, and you can see each line of the black ink, as if the artist sketched it in anger.

Harvey lights up the joint and puts it to his lips. The smirk he gives me when I take it from him is enough to make a groupie out of me .

Setting my beer on a table beside the swing, I sit on my knees and take a drag. He brings me closer to him, his hand cupping my ass, which he’s rubbing over my black denim skirt.

“A hot nerd who likes beer and smokes weed,” he says in disbelief. “What else are you hiding from me?”

I exhale a cloud of smoke away from his face, staring at the darkness as the night prevails. I lean into him, nearly wishing I could drown in his cologne, excitement fluttering inside me.

“What do you want to know?”

He grabs the joint from me and smokes it. “Surprise me, sweetheart.”

I’m trying to think of a response but the way his empty hand skims my flesh right beneath my skirt makes me forget how to breathe properly.

I’m gasping for air.

“Nipple piercing.” That’s all I say when he turns to me, the thumb that’s holding the joint fingering my collarbone.

He looks at me dead on as if I made a joke about his mom. “You’re kidding.”

His dimples are on full beam right now, and I can tell by the heated gaze of his eyes that he’s dying to see if I’m lying or not.

My leather jacket hides it. If I took it off, it would be easier for him to see it through my fitted white tee even with my bra on.

“Afraid not.”

“Oh Gemma.” He chuckles soft and low. “Who are you, hmm?” His lips brush against mine before he gives me a simple peck. When he pulls back, his blue eyes stare at my green ones like he wants to crack a new spell. “So, do I get a peek?”

I laugh, my hand lightly pushing his chest, and nod. His eyes bulge as if he can’t fathom why I’d say yes.

“Why not?” I shrug, removing my black leather jacket and tossing it to him.

He glances around us, but the party seems to be in full swing inside. You can hear people outside in the backyard although we’re at the front of the house.

I untuck my shirt from my denim skirt, knowing he can see it already. I’m wearing a sheer black bra.

“Open your mouth,” he says before taking a puff. I do as he says, the joint now tucked between my lips. Then he does the unthinkable and turns on the light on his phone. “I want to see better.”

I purposely take my time pulling up my shirt. He’s holding the phone, leaning over me, waiting for a glimpse. His other hand traces my stomach before I lift my shirt, pulling down one bra cup.

He stares at my breast, like he’s committing it to memory, hoping to draw it later.

“Who are you?” He asks again, snatching the joint from my lips when I pull up my bra cup and yank down my shirt. I’m glad when my leather coat shields me in warmth once more. “You know what’s the sexiest thing about the piercing? I wonder... if you can handle that kind of pain, what other kind of pain can you handle... ?” he winks at me.

The small tug of his lip tells me exactly the kind of pain he’s talking about. The kind that’s mixed with pleasure.

And because I just met him and I feel my heart skip a beat or two already, I warn him.

“I can take pain, but don’t break my heart.”

His laugh vibrates through his entire body. “Can’t you see? You’ll be the one to break mine.”