Page 73 of Mad Girl

“Nothing happened,” I said, pushing him back. “Can we go now, please?”

Michael grabbed my hand and led us out of there.

In the car, he kept glancing over at me. I turned my face to the window, trying to hide the tears.

“What happened up there?” Michael asked softly. “Did that asshole hurt you?”

“He didn’t touch me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” I said, but my voice cracked, giving me away.

“I’m going back there tomorrow to beat his ass,” he said.

“No. The problem isn’t him. It’s me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m cold and detached.”

“Says who?”

“Says everyone.” I swatted at a tear. “Everyone thinks that about me.”

“I don’t think that. You’re not cold and detached, Elliot. None of those people know you. Willoughby doesn’t know you, either.”

“Well, how could he? I’m not allowed to hang out with anyone at school besides Bree and Tinsley.”

“So what? Willoughby’s a loser. He’ll be one of those guys who lives off his trust fund and never actually does anything with his life.”

I swiped the fallen tears from my chin. “I guess. But what was the point of me learning to drive this summer? It’s not like I can go anywhere. Even when I do manage to break free of my stupid gilded cage, everyone’s afraid of me. Except Greer Johnson, apparently.”

Michael went still, gripping the steering wheel. “I played soccer with that guy last year. Did he say something to you tonight?”

“He asked me to go somewhere with him after I told him my dad keeps me locked up because I’m crazy.”

“Promise me you won’t do that,” Michael said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Promise you won’t ever go off with him.”

Michael pulled the Range Rover into the driveway and parked. “I’m serious, Elliot,” he said, turning to face me. “You shouldn’t ever be alone with him.”

“Why not? He might be perfect for someone like me.”

Michael pulled a face. “Are you kidding? That guy?”

He threw open his door, climbed out of the car, and stormed ahead of me into the house. I followed him up to his room.

“Why are you so mad right now? It’s true.”

Michael twisted to face me, hands propped on his hips. “What about me?”

“You? What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m perfect for you, Elliot.”

I laughed. “Right. Like you’d ever want me like that.”

“Of course I want you like that,” he said, narrowing his gaze. “Please tell me you’re not that oblivious.”