Page 71

What else am I supposed to do?

At school, I know exactly when he walks Juliet to class, which means I know exactly when to take the long way around. I have one class with him, and I sit as far away as physically possible without looking like I’ve been banished to the corner.

If he moves seats?

I move seats.

If he looks up?

I look down.

If he breathes in my general direction?

I simply cease to exist.

Self-preservation.

That’s what this is.

A solid way to keep my heart from shattering into a million pieces.

And it works. Kind of.

Except, now Vinny has stopped trying.

When school first started, he would wave at me, but I gave him enough pathetic little smiles that he eventually learned to stop. Now, if we cross paths, he sometimes looks away first.

And it kills me.

“Emma, can you go grab more milk from the back?” Blair’s mom doesn’t even look at me, just keeps checking items off on her clipboard.

The back. Where Vinny works. Where I avoid him at all costs. I have to say it’s been a successful operation. I haven’t spoken to him, not even once, since I started this job at Blair’s family’s grocery store.

But now I’m faced with an impossible challenge.

“Hello? Earth to Emma?” Blair’s mom nudges me.

“Yep, milk,” I say, already moving. “I got it.”

Vinny might not even be back there.

I push through the swinging door to the back and exhale a sigh of relief. The coast is clear—so far. My head’s on a swivel as I move toward the walk-in refrigerator. I pull the handle and trip over the crate propping the door open. I’m not a klutz. The tripping is because Vinny’s here, stacking crates of sour cream, sleeves pushed up slightly, like he’s not in a thirty-five-degree refrigerator.

The crate goes flying, and the door swings shut behind me. There’s a click, and we both pause.

I turn slowly. “Did that just lock?”

Vinny tries the handle. It doesn’t budge. “Yeah.”

We both start banging on the door and yell for help.

After twenty seconds, our pleas die down.

“Do you think they’ll come get us?” My heart is already panicking.

“Eventually.” He shrugs as he turns to face me.

We haven’t voluntarily stood this close to each other in months.