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“You’ve seen her freak then?”
They were still talking about me like I wasn’t here.
“Yeah. One time there was a bad one. Blood–”
“Blood?”
“Screams.”
“Screams too? You were screaming, Daniels? Or wait, screaming from coming?”
“Shut up, both of you.” But they were talking casual, maintaining a cool and calm effect and I knew they were both doing it for me, so I didn’t flip the fuck out. I wanted to flip the fuck out.
I wanted to do more, but I thought about the real problems in my life. My mom. That put things into perspective for me. There’d be more attention on me. More girls who might pretend to like me, but mostly more girls who’d hate me. It just happened. Jealousy was rampant. And Cruz being Cruz, I was not looking forward to class on Monday.
I asked Gavin, “Are you going to give me attitude about this later?”
He shook his head, going back to his chips. He pulled the cheese jar from the bowl and set it aside. The oven beeped at the same time, and Cruz put two pizzas in as Gavin replied, “Wanna fuck you. Sorry, Styles. I’m keeping it real.” He focused back on me, ignoring how Cruz’s jaw got hard. “Have since I first saw you, but I didn’t get there first, and because I like you as a friend, that’s what I’m cool with being.” He dipped a chip into the cheese. “I’m really hoping to stay awake until those pizzas are done.”
Cruz moved in, touching my hip and jerked his chin toward the stairs. “We should talk.”
I nodded, going with him.
He followed, saying over his shoulder, “Watch the pizzas.”
“Did you not just hear me? I’m hoping to stay awake. Not a ringing endorsement to keep your house from burning down!”
Cruz ignored him.
We went to his room, but this was pointless.
I grabbed the rest of my stuff.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going home.”
“Hey–whoa.” He jumped in front of me, his hands in the air.
Maybe I should’ve been panicking. I don’t know, but I wasn’t. I was tired. So very, very exhausted. And I looked up, knowing Cruz was worrying about me freaking out, so I spoke calmly. “Turn the oven off and take me home.”
His eyes cleared and he lowered his hands. “You sure?”
“I want to go home, and I want to go to my own bed.”
His chest rose. He looked like he had something else to say, but then everything went flat. His eyes. His mouth. His shoulders.
He nodded. “Okay.”
I checked my phone before heading to bed.
Blocked calls (7)
One got through to my voicemail, and when I clicked to hear it, it was deep breathing. They didn’t say anything.
Of course.
I blocked that number too.
25
MARA
I went on lockdown over the weekend except for a brief roommate dinner. Other than that exception, there’d been no Cruz. No Miles. No Gavin. The only one who got through was Zeke, and that was via the phone before I silenced his alerts. His first text was a picture of Cruz and I holding hands, walking through the hockey house.
Zeke: I rate this hand holding at a 7.5. It emotes, but a bit shy on the passion level.
His second text was a picture of me sitting on Cruz’s lap. We were in the back room. I didn’t know anyone had a phone there.
Zeke: This is an 8.35379. Bodily contact, but your eyes are closed. What it lacks in angst, it makes up for in passion.
The third was a picture of Cruz crushing me against his truck, his mouth on mine, and my hands in his hair. It was another situation where I didn’t remember touching his hair, but I must’ve because I was holding entire chunks of it in the image.
Zeke: A 10.000000. Well done, Daniels. Not handing out any awards here, but if you were on my Olympics team, you’d be a solid silver.
Me: Fuck you.
Zeke: Trying to make a joke of it cause I know you’re freaking. Let me know if you want a road trip out of there, even for a weekend.
I was tempted. That said volumes, but I was. Zeke would be fun, and he’d be protective. He wouldn’t hit on me. There’d been one moment I had bad judgment when I was spinning out the end of our senior year, but nothing happened.
I was eternally grateful.
I had other texts over the weekend, but after Zeke’s invitation, I decided to do my own ‘getting away.’ I turned my phone off and spent the weekend alone. There was a trip to the grocery store, a couple to get coffee, and I was in the library most of Saturday. That’d been the best decision. I had no idea how empty the library was on Saturdays.
Sunday was a different story.
I was studying at a back table on the second floor when a pair of books landed on the table next to me. Tasmin Shaw was glaring at me, her mouth tight as she swung her bag down on a chair and began unpacking her things.
