“The food is going to be here soon,” I interrupt loudly. “We have to go.”
“Don’t eat too much—it’s late,” my mom warns. “You’ll get heartburn.”
“Noted. So, this has been a horrible new core memory in the making, and we will apparently see you all tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget to bring the wine!” Gran calls.
Salinger hangs up.
I flop over and cover my face with my hair. “This is literally my worst nightmare.”
Well, part of my worst nightmare.
The phone rings again. I jump out of my skin when Unknown Number flashes on the screen. My stomach drops. I’m going to puke. Is it him, for real this time? The panic is back.
Salinger, his face a mask of fury, answers the phone then curses when the “We are calling you about your car’s extended warranty” message plays. He ends the call, swearing.
“Salinger, just give me the phone.” My heart is racing.
“No. I bet there are messages from him on here that you’re trying to delete.”
The panic is taking over. “Please give me the phone—I need to call my sister. I need to know she’s okay.” I knowI sound hysterical, but suddenly I can’t shake the horrible feeling that Lauren’s in trouble.
He gives me a dark look then hands over the phone, thin-lipped.
My hands shake as I find Lauren’s number.
“Oh my god, Mandy!” she yells.
“Lauren.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Where are you?”
“I told you, I’m with my new hot guy.” There’s laughing in the background. “Yes, more shots!” Lauren yells to someone. “Baby, you’re paying, right? I can’t believe you went home, Mandy—you need to live! Shots! Shots!” she chants.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner,” I tell her. “I’m not staying at the apartment tonight, so don’t worry, okay?”
“Me?Youworry too much.”
“Be careful.”
“Woo!”
The call ends.
She’s okay, clearly, but I can’t shake the bad feeling.
Salinger’s pacing next to the bed, shoulders tense, rubbing his jaw.
“Sorry about my family. They—”
Abruptly, he kneels on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. He cups my face, his eyes searching mine. “This guy has you really scared. You’re completely spooked.”
“I’m just…” I fish around for an excuse. “I’m fine.”
He’s frustrated. “Why won’t you let me help you? You shouldn’t be terrorized by a stalker.”
“I told you—I don’t need your help.”
He takes my hands in his larger ones, holds them up to his mouth.
