I hesitate, then nod. “A little.”
“Don’t let her,” Aubrey says fiercely. “Nicole tears people down because she’s miserable and she can’t stand seeing other people happy.”
“She wants Jace,” Sam adds bluntly. “She’s wanted him for years, and he’s never given her the time of day. So seeing him with you? That’s eating at her.”
I nod slowly, trying to let their words sink in. Trying to push Nicole’s venom out.
“Come on,” Aubrey says, linking her arm through mine. “Or we’ll be late for class and Mr. Williams will lose his shit as usual.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jace
My room is now upstairs, two doors down from Bells.
It’s strange as hell to have a room that’s actually mine. Not temporary. Not borrowed. Just mine. I have a bed that doesn’t sag in the middle, a proper mattress that doesn’t have springs digging into my back when I sleep. There’s a desk where I can actually spread out my stuff, and a window that looks out over the backyard.
The walls are painted in a neutral gray color, and I have a closet. A damn closet with doors that close and shelves I can actually use. I’ve kept it neat and tidy, folding the handful of shirts I own onto the shelves. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s more than I’ve ever had.
The room I had downstairs, the one near the kitchen, is being set up for when Lola’s dad is coming home next week. He won’tbe able to climb the stairs for some time. Bells and I have been getting it ready. She has been buzzing with excitement about it for days, talking about how good it’ll be to have him home, how much she’s missed him, how the house will finally feel complete again.
I go with her to visit him now. Every other day after school, we drive to the new rehab center where they’ve transferred him. We talk. He asks me about school, about work at the diner, about how I’m settling in. He seems like a decent guy, the kind of dad who actually cares about his kid. The kind who asks questions and listens to the answers. The kind who looks at his daughter like she hung the freakin’ moon.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared that this whole arrangement might fall apart when he gets back, because dads don’t really trust me with their daughters.
So yeah, I’m fucking terrified that Mr. Bellamy is going to get home and decide it’s time for me to leave.
Today, though, I have bigger problems to handle.
Miss Mallory arranged for me to retake an English test I totally bombed last semester. I didn’t even bother answering half the questions. Just simply sat there staring at the paper like it was written in a foreign language. I even doodled a decent skull in the margin and handed it in blank.
Now I really have to pass the damn thing.
Bells and I have been working our butts off. Our days are so packed that there’s barely any time to breathe. School, visiting her dad, me going to work, and tutoring sessions that go late into the night—Bells sprawled out on my bed with textbooks and notes, drilling me on symbolism, metaphors, and all the stuff I never paid attention to the first time around.
And of course, fucking, because no matter how busy we are, no matter how exhausted, I can’t keep my hands off her. The way she looks when she’s concentrating, biting her lip as she explainssome concept I don’t fully understand. The way she gasps when I kiss her neck. The way she says my name when I’m inside her.
But this test is important. It’s one of the requirements for my graduation, and for the first time in my life, I truly want it. I want to walk across that stage in a cap and gown to receive my diploma. I want to prove that I’m not the screw-up everyone expects me to be and to show Bells that her faith in me wasn’t misplaced.
But more than anything, I want to be someone she can be proud of.
The classroom is empty when I walk in except for Miss Mallory sitting at her desk, her head bent over a stack of papers she’s grading with a red pen. She looks up when I enter, and there’s something in her expression that’s professional but not unkind. Like she actually wants me to succeed.
“Jace,” she says, her voice smooth and steady. She points to a desk in the front row, the one directly in front of her. “Have a seat.”
I sink into the chair and my leg immediately starts bouncing with this nervous energy I’m not used to feeling. My hands are sweaty. My heart is pounding harder than it should for a damn test.
Miss Mallory stands and approaches, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor. She’s wearing a pencil skirt that clings to her hips and a white blouse, tucked in so tight it’s distracting. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low bun, with a few strands framing her face. She exudes that authoritative, untouchable kind of heat that used to make me think about all the wrong things. Not that I’m looking anymore like I was. Not now when I’ve got Bells.
She puts the test face down on the desk in front of me, and I stare at its blank white back as if it might bite me.
“You have two hours,” she says, her voice steady and even. “Read each question thoroughly. Take your time. Show yourwork on the essay questions. And Jace?” She pauses, waiting until I meet her gaze. “Actually try this time.”
I nod, as my throat is too tight to say anything.
She returns to her desk and settles into her chair.
“Okay, you can start now,” she says.
