Derek breaks through my thoughts with a smirk. “Boy troubles?”
“No.”
“No?” He leans over, reading my message upside down. “Then who is Jake, and why do you need to talk?”
“He’s a classmate.” I click my phone to lock the screen. “He wants to talk about homework.”
“Just a classmate?” His brows raise, a new twist to his lips appearing. “Why’d you get all flush, then?”
“Ugh,” I grunt. “Stop watching me, you creep.”
“Hey, maybe your boyfriend wants some addy’s. Or some of his friends. You should ask him over ‘homework,’” he says with air quotes as he plops down onto my couch again. I’m going to burn it when he leaves.
I sigh dramatically, as if I could not possibly be more bored with Derek and his endeavors.
“Still saying no, huh?” He links his hands behind his head. “Hmm. Wonder what Parker will think of that.”
“Do you really think I believe you’ll set Parker up again? Please,” I scoff. “And how do you think Jamie would feel about that? You think if somethingelsehappened to her precious P, she’d forgive you? I’m sure she’s already not too happy with you.”
His silence tells me I’m on to something, however much of a sliver it may be.
His cold stare sends a shiver down my spine, but I set my body firm in place, not wavering if only to show an inkling of strength. He stands from the couch and takes slow steps toward me until he’s a foot away, looking down the bridge of his nose at me. His voice is absolutely sinister.
“A few extra years won’t hurt either of them. Don’t underestimate me, princess. I really fucking hate that.”
I want to gulp, but I refuse to let him see my fear. “Whatever,” I say instead, rolling my eyes and feigning any sense ofconfidence when all I feel is earth-shattering anxiety. I turn and make my way to the door.
“Where the hell you goin’?” he calls after me.
“Work! You know, where normal people go to make money?”
“Ha,” he huffs. “Sucker.”
He walks to my living room and falls onto my couch again like he owns the place, legs sprawled out, already reaching for the remote as if this is just any other day for him.
I let the door slam shut behind me, wishing with every cell in my body I could shut out my past just the same—close the door for good on all the painful reminders of why a guy like Jake could never be real for a mess of a girl like me.
Track 18
“On The Sunny Side of the Street” Nat King Cole, 1940
ALANA
TODAY IS THE day I’ve been both dreading and anticipating for over a week.
I grab my bag and scurry out the classroom door before Jake has a chance to stop me. Our presentation went well, and luckily, today is our last class so I don’t have to go through this again.
Professor Stanley stopped Jake on the way out to give him something, which I thought would give me a bit more time, but I guess when your legs are half the size of the gorgeous tall man following behind you, even a head start doesn’t make you fast enough.
“Alana, wait,” he calls out, but I keep moving, pretending the windy late-December air is too loud in my ears to hear anything else.
I’m just about to step off the curb when a taxi runs the red light, whipping into a quick turn. My eyes lock with the driver’s, and the horror on his face tells me everything.
My heart slams against my sternum. My vision blows wide.
I’m about to get hit. There’s no space to move, no time to react. My body won’t listen to me. It doesn’t move at all.
In that suspended second, as the world narrows around me, I wonder what people will say about me if I die. If there will be anyone to say anything at all…
