By Your Will, Lord. (ON HOLD DUE TO EDITING)

Chapter 8

"Well... I," I stutter, unsure how to respond because of the circumstances. "I do take care of my books. Who says I don't?" I settle, getting offended easily over my books.

My books were more important to me than food, my books were my everything.

"You dropped the Pride and Prejudice in water. That's just baffling." He walks past me with that smirk still over his red lips.

I trudge after him, though. "Well I still take care of my books!"

"Not if you have to buy new copies." He picks up where he left off once we reach the pile of books still in the plastic bin on the floor.

"It was a one time thing." I cross my arms. "That book meant a lot to me." I add softly.

This makes him look up at me but I don't meet his icy gaze, he just doesn't get it.

"Well," He starts. "I dropped my copy of Wuthering heights in to a fireplace." He says casually.

A soft gasp leaves my lips and I look at him instantly, unsure if I heard him right. "A what?"

"A fireplace." He stands up and leans against the book case. "You know, those things that heat your house."

"A fireplace." My mouth doesn't seem to want to close. How can he drop a book in to a fireplace?!

"You know," He tries again. "Where you toast marshmallows and have hot chocolate. Or whatever you girls do." He mumbles the last bit as he picks at the skin around his finger nails.

"How can you drop a book in to a fireplace?" I voice my thoughts, feeling my gray eyes widen in shock and horror as he smiles lazily.

"I was angry at Catherine." He simply says. His eyes search mine as I finally close my mouth. I could understand that... In some way. I've been so invested in character after character, relationship after relationship, that I too have had strong emotions towards them. Either sadness, disappointment, or even anger, I have closed my book in frustration as well. But I have never thrown one. Especially in to a fireplace.

"Haven't you ever felt like burning a book?" He was teasing, I could see it play across his strong features. 

"No, I haven't. Actually, I don't really understand how anyone could just burn a book. Books are so..." I can't find the right word. Books are amazing, wonderful, full of life. "Important. They're important." I say.

"Yeah, books are importnat. But that doesn't mean you can't buy a new copy of whichever book you've destroyed. Which is what I did." He walks over to me and taps on Pride and Prejudice. "Which is what you're doing."

"It was on accident!" I say, bewildered at the thought of purposely ruining a book.

"So was mine!" He says.

"No, it wasn't!" Our voices have risen but the only way I noticed was because of the giggling girls a couple isles down from us, peeking at us behind their copies of Twilight.

I blush and look back in to  his eyes, laughing at our sudden outburst. To my surprise, the cold boy is smiling back at me. I wonder why he seems so cold. It could be because of my first impression of him. His furrowed eyebrows and hard eyes didn't scream friendly. He did have a contagious smile, though. Maybe he wasn't so cold.

"So, you call throwing a book in to a fireplace an accident?" Its my turn to cross my arms over my chest, my confidence growing by the minute.

"Yeah." He says, plucking my books out from my embrace. He goes through them, and stops suddenly. The last book, "Uglies" in hand. He starts reading the blurb and I instantly know to buy the book, pushing my earlier hesitation away. I guess Scott Westerfeld knew how to capture someone's attention.