Burned

Chapter Eleven

Today was not my day.

I woke up late, tripped down the stairs, and found out I needed gas. I didn't have enough gas to make it to school, which meant I was going to be even later. Usually, I wouldn't have minded because I would have Dara with me. Except, she and Gemma rode together to school today. I hadn't had a moment to talk to Dara about Gemma, which was probably for the best. I had told Dara I would give her space.

Despite everything that had happened in the few hours I had been up, my mood hadn't been soured yet. I trudged to the gas pump, slid my car and uncapped the nozzle. I hummed lowly to myself as it filled my tank. I took a deep breath in, feeling the crease in between my eyebrows grow as I thought about how late I was going to be. Spinning around, I checked on many gallons I had left.

I was going to be here awhile.

"I've been told the numbers slow down when they're being watched," a voice said. I looked around, trying to find the owner of the voice. My eyes fell on a guy standing at the pump across from me. As we made eyecontact, he waved, then pushed up his thick black-rimmed glasses. They were too large for his face, but it was more of a statement. I didn't recognize him.

"What?" It wasn't my finest moment.

"The numbers on the gas pump." He tried to clarify. "Sorry, I was never taught small talk." He chuckled to himself. I tilted my head to the side, taking him in. He was maybe an inch or two taller than me, but his wavy hair moused upright, made him appear taller. Despite the nice weather, he was wearing a long-sleeve black sweater, corduroy pants, and brown leather dress shoes.

Slowly, I nodded.

"Oh," I finally replied. My eyes shifted back to the numbers, which seemed to barely be moving. Maybe he was right, the more I looked at them the less they seemed to change. Except, I knew he was just joking.

"I'm Jamie," he juggled the gas pump from hand to hand, then extended his right hand to me. I stared at it, half expecting him to try and attack me. I had been around evil Witches for too long. He frowned down at his extended hand. "Right, this looks bad: meet a random stranger at a gas station, doesn't really provoke security." He laughed -- again. This time, I heard how true it rang. He was friendly.

I bit my lip, then shook his hand.

"I'm Cornelia, Cornelia Moreau." I was so used to people badly reacting when they heard my name. People either thought of Witches, Dara, and the Cult, or my dead Gran. Either way, there was always some sort of reaction. I stared at him, waiting for him to react. He didn't.

"Sorry, is that supposed to mean something? I'm new in town." He added the second sentence quickly, to not offend me.

"You apologize a lot." My eyebrows pulled together. I wasn't wary of him. It was his niceness and a charming attitude that threw me off.

"I'd say sorry, but you'll probably give me that look again." He joked, gesturing to my face. When I didn't say anything, he gulped. I hadn't realized we were still holding hands. My cheeks flushed and I let go. Thankfully, my gas pump clicked, meaning I could finally leave. Now, I was reluctant. Who was this guy?

"Where did you move from?" I asked as I uncorked the pump. His own gas pump clicked and he did the same. He drove a red Sedan. I tried not to stare, but he was new and it was hard not to. He screwed on his gas cap and dusted his hands off on his pants. Then, I saw how green his eyes were. They were like emeralds the way they sparkled. He smiled again, a wide smile with white teeth.

"Originally? I think Washington state, but I move a lot." I guess I made a face because he continued to explain. "Army brat. Both of my parents are in the Army. I was raised for the most part by my grandparents. Anyways, I'm just finishing up a long road trip. I'm gonna live here for a while. At least, for the next four years." Again, he laughed. I think he laughed at the end of every sentence he said. It wasn't annoying. It was a nice change.