Page 46 of Pretty Little Tease


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“Promise?” I ask, leaning against the counters as a rush of relief fills me. “You really don’t think I’m crazy?”

“No,”Oliver’s voice is resolute and firm. “Never, Blair. I know you, and I know you’re not crazy. Just let me come get you, and I’ll help you figure this out. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agree, and tell him a quick goodbye as he hangs up and I’m left to wait until he gets here, every moment more agonizing than the last when he promises the safety and understanding I won’t find in my empty, dark apartment today.

If only Juniper were here. But as it is, I guess I should count my lucky stars that I have Oliver.

Thirty minutes later, I’m bounding down the stairs of my apartment building, taking them two at a time in my haste toget to Oliver. He’s exactly where he’d said he’d be, in his black Mustang that’s right outside my building. The rain is coming down harder now, and by the time I’m in his car, my blonde hair is wet enough that I’ll be feeling water seep into my scalp for a good five minutes, at least.

Oliver smiles, concern etched on his features, and doesn’t move the car as he asks, “Do you have everything you need?”

“If you mean my phone, my fear, and my hoodie, then yeah,” I assure him, showing him my phone. When I open his eyes, I see his eyes are fixed on my hoodie, however, and he gives me a quick nod.

“It’ll be okay,” he promises, and swiftly pulls away from the curb. The radio is on low, and I close my eyes to listen to the drifting sounds of a news channel, interspersed with music breaking in from another channel now and then.

Is this really what Oliver listens to? Or is he just too distracted right now because of me?

“I’m sorry,” I say, jarring him out of his thoughts. Truthfully, this is the quietest I’ve ever seen him, outside of the penalty of death from Professor Solomon during his lectures. But it’s hard to think anything of it when I’m not one for conversation right now, either.

“Why?” Oliver asks, surprised. He reaches out and lays a hand on my bare thigh, gripping it lightly with his fingers splayed across my bare skin. “You don’t need to apologize, Blair.”

Shivering under his fingers, I don’t open my eyes, or move my head from the headrest behind me. “I’m just…” I suck in a breath, then let it out in a rush. “I didn’t want to get you involved in my problems.”

“I like you too much for you to keep me out of them,” Oliver chuckles softly, trying to sound normal. “But seriously, it’s okay.I’d rather help you than have you do something that gets you hurt.”

The wording is strange, but it’s probably just my brain making things seem off. I frown as he drives, watching the streets and businesses pass by outside the window as the sun sinks below the horizon. Closely packed buildings start to space out, and the facades look cleaner, fancier, and just all around nicer as we approach his neighborhood.

“You really don’t think I’m crazy?” I ask, as he turns into theHollow Oakshousing development. Large, pristine houses rise above us, trees decorating the yards with beautifully manicured bushes interspersed around large porches. I could never afford to live here in my life, and I still can’t imagine howOlivercan.

“No,” Oliver promises, pulling into a driveway at the end of the street. Woods bracket the far side of the yard, giving the house only one neighbor that’s separated by trees and a privacy fence. “I just think the fact that both of these women look like Juniper is really messing with your head. Understandably so, I mean…” He gives me a look and gets out of the car, closing the door hard and walking around the front of it to come to my side.

He’s right. That they look like Juniperisblowing my mind a little. I open my door and when Oliver reaches out to lace my fingers with his, I take them while my brain spins a mile a minute. His house is nice, I think, looking around the well-manicured yard with its pristinely kept trees that shelter the entrance almost completely.

But I can’t appreciate it fully, and not just because of my lingering suspicions. He leads me up the step to the covered porch and shoves a key in the door, hand almost trembling. Is he worried too?

The lock turns, then he pulls me inside, and I finally realize what’s been bothering me. When Oliver tries to lead me past theentryway, already closing the door behind me, I lock my knees and stand still, eyes narrowing.

He looks back, brows climbing toward his bangs in surprise. “Come on,” he urges, gently pulling on my hand. “I figured we’d go to the kitchen to talk. I have food, and you look hungry.”

“No,” I say, my grip loosening on his until he’s the only one holding on. His eyes narrow, and I can see him trying to calculate what’s bothering me. “Oliver.” I blink, my heart hammering in my chest as my stomach twists into knots. “When did I tell you that both girls looked like Juniper?”

I’m expecting an answer. I’m expecting a denial, or for him to tell me that I told him in the car and I just don’t remember. It’s possible, after all. I could’ve said it without realizing.

But he just looks at me, and a soft chuckle drifts towards us from further down the hallway, just as Professor Solomon rounds the corner to lean against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes glitter in the bright light of the house.

“I told you that you’d mess it up before you got back here, Oliver,” he says, though his eyes are fixed on mine. “Didn’t I?”

Chapter 17

Time seems to slow and comes to a stop as I look at Professor Solomon standing barely ten feet away. He looks at me, boredom etched in every line of his body, and leans more fully against the wall. Dressed in a black tee and snug jeans, he looks just a touch more casual than he does when I see him in class.

“I didn’t fuck it up,” Oliver murmurs, obviously not frozen like I am. He throws a reckless grin in our professor’s direction, then looks back at me, his fingers still gripping mine tightly. “Don’t make this into more than it has to be, okay?” he asks sweetly, patiently even. His eyes, fevered and excited, say something different.

Does hewantme to freak out?

“Let go of me,” I whisper, pulling steadily back as I set my heels against the carpet.

“No,” he replies, and takes a step toward me. “No, wonder girl. Not this time.” He pauses, eyes searching mine as both of us seem to take a breath. “Don’t,” he whispers, a warning, but it’s too late and I have no intention of listening to anything he says ever again.

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