J’s smile continues to grow, and her cheeks bunch up around her eyes like a chipmunk. It’s annoying that she really can pull off the cutesy thing. I do kind of like chipmunks too.
“Why?” J asks, all her pearly white teeth showing.
I arch a brow.
She clarifies, “Why did you come running to me when you heard the gunshots?”
I had a lot of time to think about that question. Why thehellwas I looking for her?
I don’t feel particularly fond of J.
I don’t really care to protect her.
And the thought of her frail body, lying limp on the floor in a pool of her own blood doesn’t bother me at all.
“Finn?” Her eyes turn dewy and soft. She clasps her hands together and tucks them under her chin. “Do you have a crush?—”
“You owe me,” I growl before she gets any weird ideas.
Her eyes narrow. “What exactly do I owe you?”
Answers.
I don’t like unfinished projects. If J dies before I prove that she is, indeed, Jinx in person, then it would have annoyed me all the days of my life.
“Okay, you want me to guess? Gimme a sec. I’m great at guessing. You say I owe you?” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Got it. The Uber ride. You want to split it fifty-fifty?”
What the hell?
Her eyes fasten on my tightening lips. “No, not that? Is it from before?” She scrunches her nose. “Because I kissed you?”
I scoff. “Do you ever stop talking?”
Her bottom lip snags between her teeth. In a syrupy sweet voice, she coos, “Sorry, I’ll stop…” She chokes. Swallows. Tries again. “Whatever you say, Finn. Sorry to upset…”
J chokes again.
Just as I’m wondering if I need to take her back to the hospital or perform the Heimlich, her sweet expression disintegrates like dust.
“You know what? Screw this. I’ve never talked this much in my entire life, but here I am, talking to myself like anidiotbecause all you do is stare at me and not speak.”
The rant bursts out of her like a gushing nosebleed.
“I say something. You say something back.” She waves sharply. “I say something else. You respond. That’s what a conversation is, you big buffoon.”
Buffoon?
“And have you heard of this thing called a freaking smile? You freaking vampire, Grim Reaper wanna-be? I get that we’re not best friends, but I helped you find the kidnapper, and you’re still stabbing me with your eyeballs.” She makes a gesture that looks far more suggestive than she probably anticipated. “I smile at you,stab. I make conversation,stab. I come all the way to Redwood Prep in the middle of night and almost get shot?Stab.”
Her watch beeps and my attention snags there. The face of the watch isn’t yellow, but it’s still barking out a warning.
“I’m not asking for the world here. I think it’s relativelynormalto be polite and expect politeness in return. But hey, maybeI’mthe crazy one.” She runs her hands through her hair, and her bangs fall into place again.
My lips curl up.
J shakes her head. “I’m leaving. Just forward whatever I owe you via text. In fact, this entire thing”—she moves her pointer finger in a circle, indicating me and the classroom—“could have been an email.”
As she stalks forward, I extend a hand and block her path.
