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ONE
PAXTYN
The bell rings, signaling the end of class. Thank God. I hate US History. Can any other subject be any more of a snore fest? Doubtful. I quickly close my binder and stand from my desk as I swipe my things off the top, one of the first to make my way to the door as the bodies file out for the next class. Third trimester. I can do this. I can feel summer break around the corner. It’s May. I just have to make it to June tenth and I can roll out of this damn place with both middle fingers turned up.
For a few months, at least . . .
I’m envious that when Landon is off work, he can do whatever the hell he wants to do. I never hated my age until I got an older boyfriend. Now it just seems to get in the way, mainly because I don’t have a free schedule when he’s off for two weeks. I still have school during the day. During ski week in February, he was working when I was out of school. Just my luck.
I’m glad Mom let me go with him to Miami to see Riggan and Sayler’s baby. It was fun. Definitely different from any other time we’ve been with everyone together. He never once ignored me even though he wasn’t overly affectionate around people, which is okay. I don’t expect for him to magically be completely different. We were a real couple, though.
Since then, we just wing it. Landon mostly comes here on his two weeks off. We’ve spent the passing months making Konnor’s parents’ old house livable again, adding furniture pieces here and there, at least in the master bedroom. I’d mentioned it to Konnor and my sister when we were in Miami and had a bed to ourselves after sleeping on an air mattress. I liked being able to stay with Landon. I will admit that it was weird being on the third floor versus the basement—where this thing between us started—but it was renovated and is occupied by a family of three.
Konnor didn’t give a shit, he just ran it by his parents first, but they didn’t care as long it was taken care of and not used as a party house. They’ve pretty much given it to Konnor and Kinzleigh to do with as they please anyway. I don’t think they ever plan to move back to California, at least not at this point. Neither Baker kid is using it at the moment. Presley was all for it. She added that it would give everyone a place to stay when they wanted to come to Cali but still have their own space, Landon just contributes there and pays utilities instead of renting.
More recently, Mom let me fly home with Landon for the weekend. It impresses her that he’s put forth so much effort for me in a society where most guys would move on. What guy would literally never be able to go home for a girl? Not many. He works for two weeks and then continues to live out of a suitcase. He also respects my parents—more so than high school boys would—so she caved, with very specific rules after I talked to her about it like an adult. She made me give her access to my location—something she’s never done. It has nothing to do with not caring. She’s always let us earn her trust the less modern way. She’s not the person to stalk her kids without warrant, but I can understand, so I didn’t even argue about it. Most parents force that feature on their kids anyway, and she knows that Landon and I sleep with each other, in both senses of the word, so there is nothing to hide.
And . . . last time he was in from work was that weekend. I finally met his mom. I loved her. She’snothinglike I thought she’d be, given the circumstances and her son’s strong feelings about things, which I love him for when it comes to relationship security. He was awkward. She was warm and welcoming, and I plan to figure out how to fix things between them. Somehow. Some way. The way she hugged me, I felt this vibe that she was longing for some of the things I’d been for so long. Love. Affection. The things that matter. We didn’t stay much longer than the time it took to slowly devour a meal, but I plan to change that too.
My eyes meet with Jacobe’s coming from the classroom across the hall just before I make a left on the way to my locker to switch books. I didn’t miss the very subtle smile he flashed me. Maybe he was telling the truth about not being involved in the bet, but it doesn’t change the fact that I only dated him to get back at Landon. I can’t help Landon is the one that got to me.
After Jacobe got his ass kicked in the parking lot back in January—okay, maybe it was more equal than I care to admit—he left me alone for a while. He was back to hanging all over the bimbos of the school between classes and at parties. Rumor has it he was only doing it to make me jealous and hasn’t actually hooked up with any. Not my business. We didn’t speak.
Everyone quickly figured out we had broken up after Landon’s return without me having to say a damn word. As usual, my private life became the talk of the school. There was a mystery guy in the picture, after all. But over the last few months, Jacobe has tried to make amends in the friend zone when I’m mostly alone. I keep my distance, because when I mentioned it very briefly in a video chat with Landon while he was at work, he went serial killer silent and just stared at me like I was being stupid to not see it for what it was. I knew then that he was pissed.
I make it to my locker and dial in the combination on the lock before opening it. “Pae Pae,” is said right next to me from behind, making me jump.
I shove my stuff in my locker and get out my Geometry book and binder. “Navy, what the hell? Give someone a warning, would you?” I didn’t even hear her walk up.
“Come to prom with me. There is probably a shitty selection of dresses left, but I’m sure we’ll still find something that you’ll look fabulous in. We do this shit together. It’s always been planned. We own this bitch.”
I slam my locker door shut and smirk at her. “This is like the fourth time you’ve asked . . . this week.”
“Well, I’m running out of time since it’s this weekend. Come on!”
“Landon won’t be home in time. You know this. Even if he was, I’m not sure he’d wanna do the high school thing since he’s done with all that.”
“If the douche is gonna date a high schooler, it’s understood he does high school shit, like prom.”
My smile fills in. “Want me to tell him you called him a douche?”
“Don’t you dare! I love Country. I just need him to get on board, so my bestie is with me.”
“I’m fine with not going. Really. Even if I wanted to go solo, which I’m perfectly fine with, I’m not riding in a limo or hanging out with Chase and Jacobe, so it defeats the purpose. You’re going with Chase. Jacobe is Chase’s best friend, so it’d basically look like I was at prom with Jacobe. Landon would slit my throat. Maybe next year.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Oh, someone vandalized your car,” she says, then turns around and walks off to Chemistry like a little bitch throwing a tantrum. What the fuck? Vandalized my car? My parents will flip their shit!
Before I can think, I take off down the hall in a run. Most have scattered to class, only a few lingering here and there, so it doesn’t take much time to hit the parking lot at full speed. By the time I make it to the row I park on in the back, I’m slightly winded, already hunched over to catch my breath.
I stand upright before I can breathe evenly, scanning for my gray BMW M340i, and finally see the vandalizing she was talking about. Every tense muscle relaxes as I see the wordPromwith a question mark written across the windshield in window paint. Nothing else appears to be wrong with it. I was scared shitless. While I may not be all that into expensive cars in terms of goals, I respect that my parents provided it for me. I could be walking.
Since it’s nothing, I turn to walk back to class. I’m already late and it’s a big campus. Also, it’s way too late for prom invitations. That’s done earlier in the year. It was probably Navy since she knew about it. The brat.
My phone vibrates in my purse. I reach in and dig it out with one hand while I carry my books in the other, only making it a few steps. When I finally get it out and screen up, I notice a message from Landon on the chat app we use since he has no service offshore for standard messaging through data. He has to use WiFi. His texts are random during the day since he’s working, so I try not to miss them without responding. I open it.
Landon:I like your ass in white jeans.
I stop on a dime. White denim cropped jeans, but still, I’ve only sent him a photo of my face today so far, so that’s not information he would have. I turn around, and suddenly an ass is perched on the hood of my car. No fucking way. How?
