Garrett whipped around, his hair shimmering like gold in the yellow streetlight. “What?”
“The headlights.” I pointed to the back of the alley. “You’re supposed to point them at the wall, remember?”
He narrowed his eyes, his tone cold and even. “I’m sorry, Hollie. I’m only human. Sometimes I forget things.” He stalked back toward the car and slammed down into the driver’s seat to correct it.
I just smiled, fiddling with the elaborate wedding ring on my finger. And even though I walked toward the wall like I didn’t have a care in the world, every muscle in my body vibrated with tension.
Why did he have such an attitude? He got in these moods sometimes.
He pocketed his hands, strolling after me. “So,thisis your special place.” The judgment lacing his tone didn’t escape my notice.
Not answering him yet, I scanned the bottom half of the wall until I found my tally marks. Brushing my hand over the furrows in the cinderblock, I followed them to the end, where I stashed my rock on the ground. Leaning down, I plucked it up and scraped one more new mark into the line-up.
Garrett’s shadow, thrown by the headlights behind him, loomed large on the wall.
“Seventy-five.”
His shadow grew smaller as he walked closer. “You’ve been here seventy-five times?”
“Yep.” I waved at the proof.
“Just to dance?”
I nodded, dropping my rock back in its place. “I came here after I had a big fight with my parents, and for some reason dancing here helped me process a lot of stuff.” I huffed a laugh, relieved he was being quiet and listening. “I’ve been coming ever since.”
His eyes scanned the walls briefly before turning around to peer at the trees behind us. “Let me guess. You come here after we fight?”
I fought to appear nonchalant with a half-hearted shrug. “I have before.”
His snort sounded dangerously close to a laugh. “Okay.”
“What?”
He swiped a hand over his smile. “Nothing.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
He dropped his hand, fully chuckling then. “It just seems…I don’t know. Maybe a little melodramatic. Like something girls do when they PMS. But that tracks for a teenager, I guess.”
I stiffened. He knew I hated it when he threw my age around. “This place is special to me. It’s quiet and I can just put on songs that make me feel. Sometimes I feel like I’ve had to be strong and carry more than I should have to, but I don’t have to do that here.”
“So, what’s your jam back here?Jar of Heartsby that emo girl?” His full smile broke free at his own joke. “Or that”—he snapped his fingers—“that girl who does the crazy vocals. Dammit, I can’t remember her name. Or how about Taylor Swift?” He broke out on the lyrics ofTeardrops On My Guitar, his shaky voice sliding into a mocking falsetto for the iconic chorus. He clapped his hands, his laugh lifting in the quiet night. “So what’s it going to be tonight, sweetheart?Battlefieldby Jordan Sparks?”
Tears drummed into my eyes. My fists clenched at my side.
Why did I suddenly feelsostupid?
I swallowed the lump in my throat, mentally filing through my options. Even though every part of me wanted to storm back to that car, I had to play this smart. If he knew my feelings were hurt, he’dforce us to have a long conversation I didn’t want. So I smirked. “You’re right, I guess it is a little melodramatic.”
His smile twitched on one side, happy I agreed. “But yet you still come.”
I spread my hands wide. “The important thing is that I was telling the truth. You should’ve believed me in the first place.” My throat grew thick and talking became difficult. “I’m ready to go home now though. Come on.”
“Wait a sec. I thought you were going to dance.”
I lifted my sandaled foot. “Nope. I only dance in tennis shoes.”
“Then why did we drive all the way out here?”
