Forcing my fingers to relax, I slowly make my way toward the front of the car. I yank the rose out, the thorns that haven’t beenremoved jab into my flesh. Ignoring the stab of pain, I turn the envelope around and open it.
Red blotches stain the white paper from where I was pricked, but the words written in black marker are the ones that make my jaw flex.
You can fight it as much as you want, but you’ll realize soon enough we are meant to be together.
I press my lips into a tight line, feeling annoyance rising inside of me. My fingers clench around the note, crumpling the paper in my hand.
Fucking Damien.
This is getting completely out of hand.
Spotting the garbage can, I drop the note and the rose in it before slipping into my car and starting the engine.
My thoughts are still buzzing a hundred miles an hour as I try to process what my life has turned into.
What the hell does he want? And why? We’ve been miserable together for the last few months, and now suddenly he wants me to believe he can’t live without me?
Something isn’t adding up.
It can’t just be his pride, can it?
The moment the question pops into my head, I know just how stupid it is. Of course it canbe pride. I remember how he got so pissed off at one of his coworkers once, and he was petty about it for weeks afterward.
Is that it? Is he trying to drive me nuts with these messages until I give in, only so he can turn the tables on me? He sure was trying to be all sweet the other night. Until I told him there was somebody else, then he lost it. I’m not sure if Matthew comingaround helped or not. Damien was pissed, but he did end up backing off.
I think back to Matthew’s texts from earlier, followed by my best friend’s suggestion.
Maybe you shouldshowhim.
Damn Mae for getting in my head.
I should never have listened to her. Never uttered those words out loud.
It’s the most ridiculous idea ever.
I can’t do it.
Can I?
Shaking my head, my vision comes into focus, and I notice that I’ve taken a different turn, and instead of going back home, I’m driving toward the school.
“What the hell are you doing, Jessy?”
I drive a little farther, until I get to the parking lot where I can easily turn around, when my headlights illuminate a shape on the field.
I narrow my eyes at it.
Who would be running at this hour out here in the darkness?
Just as the question occurs to me, the person moves closer, and I can see who it is, and of course it’shim.
Since the moment he stepped back into Bluebonnet Creek, it’s like he’s been popping up left and right.
Matthew lifts his hand, shielding his eyes from the bright lights as he slows until he comes to a complete stop.
I bite into my lower lip as I stare at him. A dark-blue shirt is plastered to his torso, sweat stains visible even in the darkness. His breathing is labored, chest rising and falling as he fights for breath. His shorts hug his muscled thighs.
I should turn around and leave.
