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It’s not entirely a lie, since I’m not quite sure what’s going on between Blaise and me. Confused. That’s how I feel when it comes to Blaise and me. And I don’t want to be confused over a guy. I don’t want a guy to be taking up so much of my mental space.
“Fine. Lie to me again,” she mutters, shaking her head.
Guilt crushes me. When Social Services took my sisters away from me, I thought I might not get to see them for a while. That I’d spend the next couple of years waiting until they turned eighteen before we could be a family again. But I was lucky enough to get them back, and I should be more grateful about it.
“We kissed,” I sputter. Yes, I actually sputter like a dumbass. I clear my throat. “Blaise and I, last night, we kinda kissed.”
Londyn glances at me, confusion flooding her eyes. “Kinda kissed? What does that mean? How can you kinda kiss someone?”
I shrug. “It was just a small peck. We didn’t use our tongues or anything.”
“That’s still a kiss, Had.”
“Okay, so …” I shrug again. “Then I guess we kissed. But let me stress that it was a small peck. Like, barely a brush of our lips.”
She observes me closely. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Because, I seriously can’t tell if you guys hate each other or just get off on it.”
“We don’t get off on it. We just … I don’t know. He helped me out a lot and sort of understands me. Plus, we have a lot in common. But he does get on my nerves sometimes.”
A smile pulls at her lips. “Holy crap, you like him.”
I cringe. “Like might be a strong word … More like, I don’t hate him as much as I thought I did.”
A grin takes over her face. “No, yousolike him.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Stop saying that. It’s not true.”
“Okay.” But she keeps on smiling.
I throw my hands up in the air. “Whatever. Just get in the car. We’re going to be late.”
Still grinning, she opens the door and gets into the car.
Her words echo in my mind.
Like Blaise? Ha, yeah right.
Deep down, though, I’m probably lying to myself.
But it doesn’t matter. Whether I like Blaise or not isn’t important right now. What is, is dealing with the August and Axel situation, something I’m reminded of as I turn onto the street and notice a dark car with tinted windows tailing me.
45
HADLEY
By the timeI arrive at school, I’m aware of three things: 1). That the less I try to think of Blaise, the more I do. 2). That I’m definitely being followed by someone. And 3). Blaise isn’t at school.
The third revelation comes to me after the bell rings and he doesn’t wander into class. Jaxon is seated a few desks back from mine, and while I want to ask where Blaise is, I don’t want to give away that I noticed he’s gone, which is why I also don’t text Blaise to see where he is. Regardless, it’s annoying how much my fingers itch to send him a message to see if he’s okay. I know he mentioned going to talk to his father about the bags my dad stole, to see if he knows where they could be, which has me concerned.
I scratch the bandage on my wrist, a reminder of how corrupt and bad Blaise’s father is.
“All right, class, I want you to pair up into groups and work on the assignment. I’ll also be walking around and handing out packets,” the teacher announces, drawing me out of my thoughts. “You’ll have until the end of next week to complete the assignment. I’d like to keep the groups to around three to four people. If you can’t find a group, come talk to me and I’ll assign you one.”
Great. I totally spaced off and have no idea what assignment he’s talking about. Even worse, no one at this school likes me, thanks to the flyers Alex spread around school.
As everyone begins to pair off, I peer around, trying to figure out the best way to find a group. I quickly realize, though, that almost everyone is already in a group, except for a couple of people, Jaxon being one of them.
He’s dressed in his usual black jeans and dark T-shirt getup. Wisps of his chin-length, dark hair hangs in his eyes as he stares down at his desk, either completely uninterested in finding a group or nervous about it. Considering what I’ve observed about him, my guess is the latter.
