Okay, not that crazy.
"I'm fine," I insist.
Carly tilts her head, all of her dark hair falling to the side. "You don't look okay."
What gave it away?
"And don't say some smart-ass response," she snorts. "Even though I know you're itching to."
"Am I that obvious to you?" Forget a Firecracker, she's like a psychic.
"Less obvious, more of hearing the tail end of what seemed to be a heated call," she admits. "I'm not going to ask about the call, but you don't seem like someone who loses their temper like that. Despite being around me."
Carly got one thing right: I'm not someone who loses my temper, at least not quickly. Usually, it takes a lot for me to be angry.
"Not really," I agree. "How did you find me? Did Ali and Vinny send you?"
She shakes her head. "I just got out of class. I was about to head to the library when I spotted you."
With the phone call and the near-panic attack, I forgot about the study session. To be honest, I'm not sure if studying with my friends—or being around anyone—is something I should be doing today.
As if she's reading my mind, Carly holds out her hand to me. "Wanna get out of here?"
I stare down at her left hand. Some of her forearm peeks out from her sleeve, revealing part of a tattoo that has me intrigued. Despite that, how should I know she won't take me somewhere insane? Hell, I barely know her.
But I don't want to stay here any longer.
It's this tug of war in my mind. Whether or not to trust her.
"Crew," she repeats. "Do you trust me?"
With those four words, she catches me off guard. Carly, not once, has called me by my real name instead of Movie Star—unless she's serious. At that moment, I shove whatever doubts about her off to the far, dark corner of my mind and take her hand, choosing to trust her. Because with that gleam in her blue eyes, I somehow feel safer around her presence than on a phone call with either of my parents.
All spine-tingling chills are replaced with warmth traveling up my arm and heating the rest of my body with...comfort? I don't know what it is.
"Yeah," I breathe out. "I trust you."
That small grin spreads across her face—accentuating a small splatter of freckles that I've never noticed before now—brightening her eyes.
"Then let's get the hell out of here."
10
Can I Ask You A Question?
Carly
“How much longer until we’re there?” Crew asks me as we walk down a path of sand, dry grass, and worn-out stone.
“Almost there,” I assure him.
“You said that five minutes ago.”
I try not to roll my eyes because he’s right—I forgot about the long, winding path that leads directly to my favorite spot in Marbella Beach as we drove over.
East Pointe, one of the larger yet hidden beaches in this town.
Once my sandals finally touch the sand, I feel myself loosen up more. I did need to come back here. The weather never stops me from going to the beach, to be honest, but I haven’t been there in a while, especially by myself.
