Keeper(19)

“You’re assuming things.”

“Am I wrong?” Ty looked pointedly at me.

Dammit. Anger surged through me. “You know what? You don’t know me. You don’t know one single thing about me. I know you think you’re witty and clever and all, but that doesn’t make you an authority on all things Lainey.”

“I don’t claim to be an authority on anything, actually,” Ty replied, his face serious. “I’m just good at seeing what’s right in front of me.”

“Oh, really? And what exactly do you see?”

Ty tilted his head to the side and then back again. “Well, for starters, I see a girl who is having a pretty shitty morning.”

In spite of myself, I let out a small laugh—though it sounded more like a snort. “Yeah? Was screaming in the middle of class your first clue?”

“That was a pretty good indicator.”

“Fair enough.” I looked down at my shoes. “What else do you see?”

Ty toyed with the keys in his hand. “Well, you know,” he said, with a smirk, “I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because where would the fun be in that?” he teased.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be seriously annoyed, so I sighed instead. How was it possible that one person could be both infuriating and almost charming at the same time? I suddenly had the strongest urge to fling myself across the small expanse of pavement between us. Part of me wanted to hug him or something, while the other half of me wanted very much to slap that smug look off his face. It was both amusing and confusing. More proof that I am certifiably insane.

“You’re right,” I blurted out, desperate to keep myself from doing something I would later regret. “I’m not fine.”

Ty nodded. “I know.”

Back up at the main building, the bell rang shrilly, and people began pouring out of the double doors, heading toward the gym and athletic buildings. Panic washed over me as more and more people spilled out into the sunlight. I wasn’t ready to face the gossip storm that was surely in full swing by now. I looked at Ty, trying not to choke on my anxiety.

“You know,” he said, unlocking his car and tossing his books inside, “I think I’ve had enough school for today.” He locked the car again and started walking toward the road.

“You’ve only been to one period!”

Ty turned around, grinning wildly. “Like I said, that’s enough for one day.”

“Well, where are you going?”

Ty gestured to the road. “Think I’ll head into town.”

“What about your car?”

“Eh, I’ll get it later. It’s a nice day for a stroll, don’t you think?”

I stood watching, slightly stunned, as Ty turned back around and started walking toward the parking lot exit.

“You could come with me, you know,” he called over his shoulder.

I bit my lip. Skipping school was a stupid idea. I couldn’t afford to get behind in my classes. Skipping school with a guy I barely knew? An even worse idea. I should probably just go back inside and face the music. That was the logical thing to do, after all.

“Hey!” I called out to Ty’s retreating back. “Wait for me. I’m coming.”





CHAPTER EIGHT


“Are you sure about this?”

I watched uncertainly as Ty wrapped my right hand with a thin cotton band.

“Trust me,” he replied, not bothering to look up. “You’ll thank me for this later.”

I sighed and continued to watch as he meticulously worked the band. The stretchy fabric, wrapped around my wrist and then woven between my fingers, was taut and supportive, but not to the point where it constricted my circulation.

When he was finished, Ty secured the band and reached for my other hand. He gave it the same treatment, and then stepped back to admire his handiwork. He nodded once, satisfied.

“Follow me,” he called over his shoulder as he walked toward the back corner of the room.

When I decided to follow Ty into town, the old gym on Elm Avenue was the last place I expected to end up, but stranger things had happened, and it seemed a moot point to question his confident smile. So, despite how awkward I felt with my hands wrapped up like burritos, I dutifully followed behind him.

Half a dozen cylindrical black bags were suspended from the ceiling by thick metal chains. Ty walked among them, running his hand along the synthetic fabric, until finally selecting a bag toward the end of the row. “Here,” he said, handing me a pair of thick padded gloves. “Put these on.”

“More?”

Ty chuckled. “The goal is to blow off some steam, not break your hands.” He helped me pull the gloves tight and then wrapped the Velcro safety bands securely around my wrists. “All right, you’re good to go.” He stepped away from the bag. “Go ahead. Hit it.”

I eyed the heavy bag. “How’s this supposed to help again?”

“Just try it.”

I huffed but rolled up on the balls of my feet, the way I’d seen boxers do on television, and took a tentative swing at the bag. It was surprisingly satisfying. I took another swing.

“Keep your wrists tight,” Ty instructed over my shoulder. “It’ll give you more control.”