Never Let You Go(68)

We snuck upstairs to his room and made out for a while. We even took our shirts off and it was amazing, feeling his skin next to mine. I almost wanted to go all the way with him, had made up my mind to just get it over with, but when his hands started going down my pants, I panicked and said no. He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling for a while, his chest heaving.

“I thought you were into it?”

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I want to do everything.”

He turned and looked at me. “Are you a virgin?”

I felt the heat in my cheeks. “Screw you.” I started to get up.

He grabbed my hand. “No, sorry. Stay. I didn’t know. I’ll slow things down, okay?” I settled back down beside him and he rolled closer. “I wish you could stay here forever.”

“You’d get bored of me.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’ll never get bored of you.”

We texted all night after I got home, and a few times today. He knows we’re staying at Greg’s. My phone vibrates now. How’s it going?

Okay.

Heard from your dad?

No. He’s such an *. I can’t believe he tried to kill Angus!

Want to get something to eat?

Greg and my mom are ordering pizza.

So?

I’ll ask.



Twenty minutes later, Jared picks me up. I thought Mom would insist I stay home with them, but I think she feels bad about everything and only asked me to be back by ten. When Jared comes to the door she walks us out. “Be careful on the roads.”

“Sure thing, Lindsey.” My mom smiles, but it looks fake, then she closes the door. Sometimes I get the feeling she might not really like Jared, but I’m not sure why. It probably doesn’t help when he calls her by her first name, which is pretty bold. We get in his car.

“Why do you call my mom Lindsey?”

He looks surprised. “I don’t know her last name. I mean, yours is Nash, but she’s divorced. I’ve always called her Lindsey at my house, so I thought it was okay.”

“I don’t think she likes it.”

“Whatever.” He shrugs. “I’ll stop.” He’s staring out the window, so I can’t tell if he’s embarrassed, but I decide to move on. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.



We drive around town for a bit, stop at my house so I can grab a few things that I forgot to pack earlier, then decide to go to the Muddy Bean because they have free Wi-Fi and their food is good and lots of kids from our school hang out there. We’re sitting at a table, scrolling through our phones and sipping our coffee, when I feel someone standing behind me. I look up. Andrew.

I make a little noise and drop my phone onto the table. Before I can say anything or move, he pulls over a chair and sits down between us.

“What’s going on, Sophie?” His eyes are angry, his voice almost vibrating, as if he’s trying to hold everything inside. I want to run away, but I’m blocked by his body, the force of his energy. It makes me feel like a little kid who’s gotten caught doing something horrible.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I shoot a look at Jared. His eyes are wide as he stares back at me.

“You said you would come over. I sat around waiting.”

“I never said I would come over. You just assumed I would.”

He flinches, then shakes his head. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But why are you ignoring my calls?”

“I told you I couldn’t see you anymore. You broke our deal.”

“So now we can’t even talk?”

“I know what you did,” I say. “I know you drugged Angus.”

He looks stunned, completely, absolutely stunned—and confused. He blinks for a couple of seconds, like he’s still trying to figure out what I said. “Who’s Angus?”

“I think you should get out of here,” Jared says. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.” My dad holds up a hand, stopping him from talking.

“Who the f*ck is Angus?”

“Our dog! I told you about him.”

He makes an angry sort of laugh. “You think I drugged your damn dog?”

“It was you. He ate pills. The vet said it was Ambien. You tossed them over the fence in meat. He’s still in the clinic—he almost died.”

“Why would I do that, Sophie?” His voice is upset, almost pleading, but angry too. I want to stop talking to him, want to get up and leave, but I’m too far gone.

“Because you’re so mad at Mom for not falling for your stupid present.”

“Yeah, I can see how killing her dog would make her want to be with me again.”

“You’re sick and twisted,” I say, tears running down my eyes. “You aren’t better at all.”

He rocks backward, closes his eyes like he’s absorbing the blow, then shakes his head and leans closer across the table.

“I did not drug your dog. But if someone did, then you have big problems, little girl.”

“You’re my problem,” I say. “How did you even know I was here?” When he doesn’t answer, I say, “You were following me again.” He must have been sitting outside our house, waiting. I never should have stopped there.