Beautiful Torment Read Online Free PDF Page A

because not only am I a little embarrassed, but because my weird attraction to him frightens the hell out of me. We’ve never really spoken one-on-one before. In fact, we’ve barely said more than a few words, even during class.
    I take a deep breath, pushing my shyness aside and hoping my voice doesn’t crack. I watch as he gets up and starts erasing his writing from the overhead projection. His track pants make a swishing sound as he moves. He’s clearly coaching after school, and I hate how happy it makes me, knowing what his after school plans are, like it matters .
    “The test was on the periodic table symbols, and I got them all correct,” I slam the paper onto his desk. He stops erasing and smiles. I bite my lip to stop from automatically gleaming too; because the way it makes him glow is so striking, I almost can’t help it. “It’s not fair,” I look away, proud of my confidence.
    “Haven't you realized? Life isn't fair.” He’s cocky, not only in his voice, but in his demeanor too. My eyes land on the muscles protruding from his shirt and travel down his arms to his white knuckles, straining against the eraser, holding on tight. I imagine his grip on me , and I swallow hard.
    “Do you not like me or something?” He suddenly has me feeling bold, saying things I would normally never say.
    “Or something,” he chuckles lightly, and I know I don’t hide my surprised look very well.
    “So you don’t?” I don’t what I am more - crushed, furious, or confused.
    “It was a joke,” he shakes his head. “Why would you think I don’t like you?”
    Maybe I’m imagining all his annoyed and intense stares during class. Outraged by my own absurd feelings, I roll my eyes.
    “Never mind,” I whisper before turning to grab my things and go.
    “You’re reading War and Peace ?” His voice interrupts. Surely he’s seen it on my desk a dozen times by now. I don’t answer as he approaches his desk, picking up the paper I slammed down. He stares at it with an amused expression. “I didn’t think they read that in high school.”
    “They,” I clear my throat. “They… don’t.”
    “And yet you do?” He does that stupid eyebrow thing again that makes me melt.
    “I like Tolstoy,” it comes out as another whisper.
    He laughs. It’s a magical sound, causing me to hold my books a little closer to my chest.
    “So the quiz?” I ask, just as the late bell rings.
    “It stays,” he smiles.
    “But it was a mistake! Spelling has nothing to do with the material that was asked!”
    “We all make mistakes,” he shrugs as he hands the paper back to me.
    There's no use in arguing with someone who won't listen, so I say nothing as I leave.
    “Luci?” I stop, not having enough courage to turn back around and face him. “Do you need a pass to your next class?”
    “No.”
    I hear his loud exhale as I walk out of the room.
     
    Public speaking has quickly turned into one of those classes I don’t mind at all. While Hannah was the only one I knew only a few short weeks ago, I’ve quickly become friendly with almost everyone. We all have. It’s different and more low key than any other class I’ve ever experienced. We have fun, Ms. Martin included. She’s a compassionate teacher and perfect for the subject, especially for someone as shy as me.
    She doesn’t get mad when I walk in late, and I’m thankful. It’s probably because she’s too concerned by the flustered look on my face. She asks if everything’s okay and I nod before taking my seat.
    Hannah and I sit next to each other in the last of the two rows on the side, and the guy who introduced himself on the first day of school is Nick. While he’s a resident bad boy, he’s actually really nice, and is constantly making Hannah and I laugh. It’s a welcome reaction from my previous, overly intense period with Mr. Harrington.
    “You look hot today, Luci,” Nick says as we take our seats. 
    “Thanks,” I smile, embarrassed.
    The class