I’m going to do it.
It’s now or never.
Busting a U-turn, I head back into Taylor’s bedroom only to find her wiping her cheeks.
Shit. Is shecrying? That bump on her head is pretty big already. It’s gotta hurt like a bitch. Damn, what a piece of shit I am. How can I be thinking of kissing her when she’s injured? I’m such an asshole.
Closing the space between us, I go into fix-it mode. “We need to put ice on it.”
“On what?”
“Yourhead.”
“It’s fine.” She bats my hand away when I try to look at it again.
Why is she mad? I didn’t do anything wrong. Ifanyone should be pissed here, it’s me. I just got my heart crushed over a fucking social media trend.
But she looks upset, not hurt. Like it’s her feelings, not the golf ball on her head, that’s got her all jumbled up right now. Holy crap, what if that stupid trend somehow just screwed us?
“We’re good, right, Taylor?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t know. You seem… mad.”
“I’m notmad.” She gets all red and flustered. Which means she’s definitely mad. “You’re being weird.”
Okay. Whatever. “Did you hear back about that diner job today?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is all high-pitched and fake-chirpy. “I got it.”
“The rocks worked then, huh?”
“What?”
“The rocks.” I point at her tits. “Your good luck crystals worked.”
“Yup.” She reaches in and scoops them out. They clack together when she tosses them on her bed. Then she grabs my arm and leads me out of her bedroom. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Her grip is crazy tight on me as she yanks me towards the stairs. I want to rip out of her hold because I’d rather she grabs the banister to keep from falling. But I don’t. Instead, I get ahead of her and go down backwards, keeping my other hand close to her waist and guiding her down.
“What are you doing, Conner?”
“Making sure you’re not so concussed that you fall down the steps.”
“I’m fine.”
“Debatable.”
She rolls her eyes, and we hit the bottom and head to the front door instead of the kitchen where her mom and aunt are playing cards.
“See you tomorrow morning bright and early, Conner,” her father—my boss—calls out from the living room.
“Yes, sir!”
“Taylor, be home by midnight.”
“I’m spending the night at Carly’s!” she yells, then slams the door shut before her parents have a chance to say no.
