Don't Look Back(15)

“You gonna wear that?”

Confused, I glanced down. I had on jeans and a heather-gray cardigan over my shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing.” His brows were arched. “But you usually dress like you’re going to a fashion show instead of school. Well, not always. Like, before Cassie, you dressed like this, but after her, not so much.”

“Oh.” Uncomfortable, I glanced at my closet. According to Del, Cassie did everything I did, but it seemed like the other way around sometimes. “Should I change?”

“Nah, come on. We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.”

I grabbed my messenger bag and followed him through the house and into the garage. The Bentley was gone, but there were a red Porsche and a newish white Audi.

“Mom wanted me to tell you that you’ll be meeting with the guidance counselor during homeroom,” Scott said, coming to a stop in front of the Audi. He opened the back door, throwing his bag in. “I think she said something about you meeting with her three times a week.”

“What?” I gaped at him.

He grimaced. “Yep. When you get there, you need to go to the front office.”

I slid into the passenger seat, clutching my bag to my chest. “Are you serious? Everyone is already going to stare at me like I’m a freak. And now I have to meet with a therapist?”

“I don’t think she’s a real therapist, Sam.” He pushed a button on the sun visor. A second later the garage door groaned and rattled, sliding open. Bright sunlight filtered through the windows. “And you always liked it when people stared at you before, good or bad.”

“Well, I’m not the same person,” I snapped.

He glanced at me. “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.”

Sighing, I stared straight ahead as he backed out. “I don’t have a car?”

Scott laughed as he spun the car around. “You did. A really nice one, too, but you wrecked it.”

“I did?”

He nodded, easing the car down our long driveway. “You and Cassie got drunk one night. Drove it into a tree, and Dad had to pull all kinds of strings for the police to label it an accident due to road conditions. He was pretty pissed for a while.”

My mouth dropped open. Several seconds passed before I could even think of something to say. “I don’t think I want to know anymore about myself.”

Another strange look was shot in my direction and then he shook his head. “So weird.”

I didn’t say anything until I realized he was slowing down near the main road and pulled off to the side. “Why are we stopping?”

“I always give Car a ride. He drives a motorcycle, and school admin don’t want him driving it there.”

Carson on a motorcycle? Seriously, what could be hotter than that? I craned my neck, spotting a two-story brick home three houses in. There was a covered bike sitting in the small driveway. “He lives on our property?”

“He and his dad live in our guesthouses,” Scott explained. “His father works for rent and what crap money Dad pays him. Something you loved reminding him of.”

I winced. “Where’s his mom?”

“Dead. Cancer. No health insurance—the trinity of shittiness.”

Before I could respond to that observation, I saw Carson trotting across the driveway, a backpack slung over one shoulder and a gym bag on the other. I wet my lips nervously as he approached the car. He wore faded jeans and a short-sleeve shirt over a white thermal. His hair was still damp, curling on his forehead.

He looked good—really good.

Carson stopped in front of the passenger door and then realized I was already there, gaping at him like an idiot. Frowning, he darted around the front and slid into the seat behind Scott. He didn’t look at me. “What’s she doing here?”

Scott glanced in the rearview mirror. “She used to ride with Cassie, dude.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” His ultrabright gaze touched my face for a second, and I felt my skin burn in a pleasant, heady way. He settled back, throwing his arm over the backseat in a lazy, arrogant sprawl.

The car had started moving, and I was still staring at him. Carson’s dark, fathomless blue eyes finally made it back to mine. His gaze dropped, and I realized he was looking at my necklace. A smirk pulled at his lips. “What’s up, Sam?”

“Nothing,” I sputtered. Why couldn’t I pull my eyes away? It was like an old part of me was bold, knew it saw something she liked, and refused to let me turn away.

Scott cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

A muscle started to tick in Carson’s jaw. “It’s early, and I’m really not up to trading insults with you, so can we just get this out of the way? Yeah, I don’t have a car. Uncool. My clothes didn’t cost me a house payment, and my dad works for your dad. Oh, burn.”

My eyes widened, and I flushed with shame. “I said things like that?”

He shot me a pointed look.

Feeling like the biggest tool ever, I turned around and stared out the window. My stomach was twisting again as I fiddled with the strap on my bag. The back of my throat burned. I couldn’t imagine saying those things to someone else, but I had. After several strained minutes, Scott coaxed Carson into a conversation about baseball practice and I kept to myself. Both of them seemed to appreciate that.