Read Break Away (Away, Book 1) for Free Online Page B

watching a fascinating
movie, then please… go far, far away and release me from this
torture so I can eat happily.”
    Ian stopped immediately, as if he’d been
paying more attention to my words than kissing, as if he’d been
expecting me to utter them, and spun to look at me, pulling my
sister in front of him to embrace her from behind. “I'm enjoying
myself,” he said with a self-contented smile. The bastard. “We can
take it to the couch.” He lowered his head and pressed a kiss on
Buffy’s neck without taking his eyes from mine.
    Cocky, are we? I pulled up the handle
on the side of the recliner, popping out the leg rest, and
stretched out as if I was a pharaoh waiting for the juicy grape to
be placed in my mouth. Though instead of the grape, it was the
squared piece of sushi. I ground up the soft concoction slowly,
deliberately, taking my time to show him my lack of concern. And he
got it. He smiled with a low snort and shook his head in
amazement.
    “None of that,” Buffy said, wriggling out
from his arms and reaching for the DVD cases she’d left on top of
the small shelf. “We still have to choose which movie we’re going
to watch—and it’s going to be tough. All of these are so good…” Her
voice faded as if with admiration while checking each case.
    By the way she was knitting her pale
eyebrows together and sighing mutely, I knew we were doomed to
watch an excruciating chick flick. On my way here, I’d hoped some
mysterious energy, pooled somewhere in the blackness of the
universe, had broken barriers of speed and infringed our atmosphere
to pour down some logic into Buffy’s brain, but apparently, it was
too much to ask. Now I was going to be trapped for about two hours
in girly fiddledeedee stuff, cheesy lines and oh-so-cliché
plots.
    “Great,” Ian said as enthusiastically as I
felt, throwing himself on the couch. “So, what are the
options?”
    “Hey, mind the shoes!” I told him after
swallowing a sushi bite. “Gran doesn’t…”
    “…like people dirtying her couch. I know.”
He kicked out his lace up ankle boots, which I’d been told, by my
fashionista sister, had cost more than four Benjamins. And let’s
get real. That is just plain ridiculous. The Buttero boots—I
think that was the name of the crazy brand—were pretty cool. But
paying that unreasonable amount of money for some straps of leather
and laces was plainly over the top, and it said a lot about
the person who wore them. He clearly didn’t know the value of
money—and of an animal’s life.
    “Murderer,” I told Ian after glaring at his
boots.
    “What?” he asked, puzzled.
    “You’re contributing to animal’s
slaughtering just because of your narcissistic needs. Don’t you see
how repulsive and selfish that is? What if you were the one
being skinned alive just because someone was looking for human
leather in your exact shade? Would it be fair if they ripped you
out from living only to fulfill someone’s greediness?”
    “Oookay, don’t turn all the veggie psycho on
me.” He held up his hands as a barrier. “Those boots were a gift. I
can’t control what people’s mind or wallet tells them to buy.”
    “But you can control what you’re
wea—”
    “Stop,” Buffy called exasperated. “Could we
please focus?” she said, wiggling one of the movie cases in the air
as to bring our attention to them.
    “Sure,” Ian shrugged. “I just don’t
understand how an animal planet disciple can talk about
going to hell if you wear leather when she’s eating crab,” he said
without looking at me, sprawling on the couch with one of his legs
dangling from the side.
    “Are you pea-brained?” I said with a deep
frown, spoiling the smoothness between my eyebrows. “What part of
being vegetarian didn’t you understand? And even if I wasn’t,
this”—I maneuvered the chopsticks into the roll and plucked the
small piece of whitish meat—”isn’t real crab, you idiot.”
    “Jesus, it’s like going