Caught Between Read Online Free
Author: Rima Jean
scowled. Maybe Margot Ducharme had been kicked out of the convent for wanting special treatment.
Amy was talking. Again. Marya's sleep-deprived brain was only catching every other word. For the most part, she was surveying her teammates: They were mostly the academic types, with a fair share of bohemians thrown in. Lots of long hair, Birkenstocks, and hemp. She wondered which ones were American.
"Am I the only American on the team?" Marya suddenly asked.
"No," Amy replied. "There's one other. Edward Marshall." She rolled her eyes. "He's a graduate student and Margot's little pet. It's sick, really, how she coddles him."
Somehow, Marya didn't think she'd get along with him, American or not. "Oh," she said, unable to hide her disappointment.
"Oh, hang on," Amy said, looking over at a table in the corner where their hostel-mates were sitting, signaling to her. "Will you save my place in line?"
Marya nodded, even though she didn't see the point -- they were the very last people in line. As if on cue, the door to the building opened and the three jackasses from earlier stepped in line behind Marya. She glanced back, saw the red bandana, and quickly turned back around.
3.
Aw, crap. This day just keeps getting better.
The guys were laughing about something, but they lowered their voices as they came to a stop behind her. She knew it was silly, but she felt like they were staring at the back of her head, their eyes boring holes in her scalp. It's not all about you, Marya. Get over yourself. She was sure those guys were jerks to everyone. She'd just made herself an easy target.
" Marya Helwe." It was said as a statement, not a question. She could do nothing but turn around. The guy in the red bandana stood between his two friends, his hands tucked casually in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He stared right at her with eyes that caught her off guard -- a dark, almost opaque green, glittering with amusement.
"What?" she stammered. Something inside her cringed -- she wasn't ready for this, whatever was about to happen. She despe rately needed sleep. But those striking green eyes told her that, ready or not, here came a challenge. Another challenge.
"This place has been on pause, waiting for you to get here," he said, drawing out his words. "And now you're here, so we can f inally start digging."
"I didn't tell anyone to wait for me," she said crankily, avoiding his gaze. "Is that why you're being so rude to me?"
He looked surprised. His dark eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head coyly. "Rude? This is the first time we've ever spoken."
"You --" Marya hesitated. What could she say? You made fun of me? What, were they in third grade? He watched her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Marya shrugged and turned back around, seething. She would handle him after she'd had eight hours of sleep. She'd let him win this battle.
"Luke," one of the other guys said to him, changing the subject. Luke, is it? She didn't like having her back to him. When she'd finally gone through the line and was able to catch glimpses of him secretly, she decided he looked like a thug, with his bandana and five o'clock shadow. His dark brown hair that badly needed a cut, the ends curling around his jaw and the back of his neck. His stretched black t-shirt with bleach stains. His shapeless jeans that barely clung to his hips. His big black military boots.
A hoodlum, her father would say, his thick accent making her smile.
"Oh my God," Amy said, flopping down next to her at the empty table. "I've totally missed my chance to get dinner. I just got so caught up in talking to Connie..."
"Here," Marya said, pushing her plate towards Amy. "You can eat mine. I'm not hungry."
"No!" Amy cried, aghast. "You have to eat. What if we share?"
"Honestly," Marya groaned, "I just want to go to sleep. I'm dying."
"You can't go to sleep yet," Amy said through a mouthful of chicken. "We have that meeting after dinner. Attendance required."
When would
Amy was talking. Again. Marya's sleep-deprived brain was only catching every other word. For the most part, she was surveying her teammates: They were mostly the academic types, with a fair share of bohemians thrown in. Lots of long hair, Birkenstocks, and hemp. She wondered which ones were American.
"Am I the only American on the team?" Marya suddenly asked.
"No," Amy replied. "There's one other. Edward Marshall." She rolled her eyes. "He's a graduate student and Margot's little pet. It's sick, really, how she coddles him."
Somehow, Marya didn't think she'd get along with him, American or not. "Oh," she said, unable to hide her disappointment.
"Oh, hang on," Amy said, looking over at a table in the corner where their hostel-mates were sitting, signaling to her. "Will you save my place in line?"
Marya nodded, even though she didn't see the point -- they were the very last people in line. As if on cue, the door to the building opened and the three jackasses from earlier stepped in line behind Marya. She glanced back, saw the red bandana, and quickly turned back around.
3.
Aw, crap. This day just keeps getting better.
The guys were laughing about something, but they lowered their voices as they came to a stop behind her. She knew it was silly, but she felt like they were staring at the back of her head, their eyes boring holes in her scalp. It's not all about you, Marya. Get over yourself. She was sure those guys were jerks to everyone. She'd just made herself an easy target.
" Marya Helwe." It was said as a statement, not a question. She could do nothing but turn around. The guy in the red bandana stood between his two friends, his hands tucked casually in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He stared right at her with eyes that caught her off guard -- a dark, almost opaque green, glittering with amusement.
"What?" she stammered. Something inside her cringed -- she wasn't ready for this, whatever was about to happen. She despe rately needed sleep. But those striking green eyes told her that, ready or not, here came a challenge. Another challenge.
"This place has been on pause, waiting for you to get here," he said, drawing out his words. "And now you're here, so we can f inally start digging."
"I didn't tell anyone to wait for me," she said crankily, avoiding his gaze. "Is that why you're being so rude to me?"
He looked surprised. His dark eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head coyly. "Rude? This is the first time we've ever spoken."
"You --" Marya hesitated. What could she say? You made fun of me? What, were they in third grade? He watched her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Marya shrugged and turned back around, seething. She would handle him after she'd had eight hours of sleep. She'd let him win this battle.
"Luke," one of the other guys said to him, changing the subject. Luke, is it? She didn't like having her back to him. When she'd finally gone through the line and was able to catch glimpses of him secretly, she decided he looked like a thug, with his bandana and five o'clock shadow. His dark brown hair that badly needed a cut, the ends curling around his jaw and the back of his neck. His stretched black t-shirt with bleach stains. His shapeless jeans that barely clung to his hips. His big black military boots.
A hoodlum, her father would say, his thick accent making her smile.
"Oh my God," Amy said, flopping down next to her at the empty table. "I've totally missed my chance to get dinner. I just got so caught up in talking to Connie..."
"Here," Marya said, pushing her plate towards Amy. "You can eat mine. I'm not hungry."
"No!" Amy cried, aghast. "You have to eat. What if we share?"
"Honestly," Marya groaned, "I just want to go to sleep. I'm dying."
"You can't go to sleep yet," Amy said through a mouthful of chicken. "We have that meeting after dinner. Attendance required."
When would
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