She smashes her lips together, hilarity sparkling in her eyes. “You guys are going to the lake?”
“I just said we were … Why are you acting like that’s amusing?” I pick up a pair of jeans.
“Oh, nothing. I’ll let you figure that out on your own.” She rises to her feet. “I think you should wear a dress. Nothing fancy, but cute. And then, like, match it with those boots and tights you wore to orientation, along with the leather jacket.” She wandersout of my room without waiting for me to respond, probably to grab a dress from her room.
The idea of wearing a dress makes me question if I’m giving off the wrong impression of what I think tonight is. Dressing up will make it look like I think it’s a date, right? But when Lily returns with this cute, strappy short dress with flowers on it, I kind of want to wear it.
“Fine, I’ll wear the dress.” I pretend like it’s a big chore, but Lily reads through my bullshit.
“You’re funny,” she remarks as I take the dress from her.
“I’m not trying to be.”
“Oh, I know.”
I toss her a dirty look, but she grins and walks out of my room, shutting the door behind her. I hurriedly change into the dress, tights, and shoes. Then I slip on my jacket, style my hair, and double-check my makeup. As I look in the mirror, though, I find myself shaking my head. Why am I obsessing about my looks so much? It’s not like me. Plus, this isn’t a date.
I roughly run my fingers through my hair, messing it up like that somehow makes everything okay. I give my reflection a disappointed look, knowing I probably look like a mad woman. Then I return to my bed to collect my phone and check the time. It’s close to six, and it’s probably a good thing since I’m starving, my stomach letting out a growl right as my phone buzzes. The combination of the two noises scares the living crap out of me, and I end up dropping the phone. It’s not a carpeted floor, so I panic.
“Please, please, don’t crack the screen worse than it already is,” I mumble as I bend down to pick it up. I breathe in relief when it doesn’t appear to have any new cracks in it. But my relief is short-lived when I see the message is from an unknown sender.
Unknown: Little Maddison thinks she can hide from me. You can try, but eventually, I’ll find you. And how does it feel that your own mother is helping me? When you talk to her again, you can tell her thanks for giving me your number.
I suck in a gradual breath through my nose. I know it shouldn’t hurt—I’m used to her betrayal—but for some stupid reason, it does.
I’m also worried. If Drew can get my number, what else can he track down on me?
CHAPTER 7
RIVER
I’m wanderingaround mine and Finn’s dorm, searching for my wallet. The place is a mess, mainly because Finn is a slob. We’ve always had a housekeeper until we came here, and I think he’s struggling with the concept of that, though he keeps insisting he’ll clean up.
He’s currently sitting at the table, eating a bagel and drinking a protein shake. He has his feet kicked up on the table, and he’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt that stinks because he hasn’t cleaned up since he got back from practice.
“You smell,” I inform him as I rummage through a stack of papers and other crap piled on an end table.
“So? You’re the only one here, and I’m not trying to impress you.” He stuffs the bagel into his mouth, a trail of crumbs falling on his shirt. “What’re you even looking for?”
“My wallet and keys.” I pat the pockets of my pants, even though I’ve done that like a million times. “Have you seen them?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry.”
I internally grimace. “When are you going to clean up?”
“When areyougoing to clean up?” he quips, lowering his feet to the floor.
“I clean up after myself.” I swing my arm toward the sofa where the athletic bag, three pairs of socks, and a shirt are tossed about. “You’re the one who keeps leaving your shit everywhere.” I wander over to the kitchen to check the counter area.
His gaze tracks me. “You’re nervous about something.”
I open a drawer. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he insists while resting his arms on the back of the hair. “We’re twins, bro, so I know these things.”
“Well, your twin telepathy isn’t working because I’m not nervous.” I am, and I don’t even know why.
Okay, that’s not true, but the reason makes me feel like a dumbass.
