Finding Cinderella (Hopeless #2.5)(30)

“Roll down your window,” I yell.

She doesn’t move. She continues to cry as she focuses on everything other than what’s right in front of her.

Me.

I slap the hood of the car again until she finally brings her eyes up to meet mine. Seeing her heartache confuses the hell out of me. I couldn’t have been happier finding out she was Cinderella, yet she seems embarrassed as hell that I realized it.

“Please,” I say, wincing from the ache that just reached my chest. I hate seeing her upset and I really hate that this is why she’s upset.

She puts the car in park, then reaches a hand to her door and lowers the driver’s side window. I’m not so sure she still won’t drive away if I move out from in front of her car. I carefully and very slowly begin to make my way toward her window, the whole time keeping an eye on her hand to ensure she doesn’t put the car back into drive.

When I reach her window, I bend my knees and lower myself until I’m face to face with her. “Do I even need to ask?”

She looks up at the roof and leans her head against the headrest. “Daniel,” she whispers through her tears. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She’s right.

She’s absolutely right.

“Are you embarrassed?” I ask her. “Because we had sex?”

She squeezes her eyes shut, giving away the fact that she thinks I’m judging her. I immediately reach a hand through her window and pull her gaze back to mine. “Don’t you dare be embarrassed by that. Ever. Do you know how much that meant to me? Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you? I was there. I made that choice right along with you, so please don’t think for a second that I would ever judge you for what happened between us.”

She begins to cry even harder. I want her to get out of the car. I need to hold her because I can’t see her this upset and not do whatever I can to take it away.

“Daniel, I’m sorry,” she says through her sobs. “This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake.” Her hand reaches down to the gearshift and I’m already reaching into the car, trying to stop her.

“No. No, Six,” I plead. She puts the car in drive and reaches to the door, then places her finger on the window button.

I make one last attempt to lean in and kiss her before the window begins to rise on me. “Six, please,” I say, shocked at the sadness and desperation in my own voice. She continues to raise the window until I’m completely out of it and it’s all the way up. I press my palms to her window and slap the glass, but she drives away.

There’s nothing left for me to do but watch the back of the car as it disappears down the street.

What the hell was that?

I pull my hands through my hair and look up at the sky, confused as to what just happened.

That wasn’t her.

I hate that she had the complete opposite reaction from me when she found out who I was.

I hate that she’s embarrassed about that day, like she just wants to forget it. Like she wants to forget me.

I hate it because I’ve done everything I possibly can to commit that day to my memory, like no one or nothing else I’ve ever experienced.

She can’t do this. She can’t just push me away like this without an explanation.

Chapter Six

I couldn’t give my parents an explanation when I went back inside to grab my keys. They were apologetic, thinking they did something wrong. They felt bad about their jokes, but I didn’t even have it in me to reassure them that they weren’t the problem. I couldn’t reassure them, because I don’t even know what the problem is.

I’ll be damned if I don’t find out tonight, though. Right now.

I put my car in park and turn off the engine, relieved to see her car parked in her driveway. I get out of my car and shut my door, then head to her front door. Before I make it to her front porch, I detour to the side of the house. I know with the shape she left my house in a few minutes ago, there’s no way she would have walked through her front door. She would have taken the window.

I reach her bedroom and the window is shut, as well as the curtains. The room is dark, but I know she’s inside. Knocking won’t do me any good, so I don’t even bother. I push the window up, then slide the curtains to the side.

“Six,” I say firmly. “I’m respecting your window rule, but it’s really hard right now. We need to talk.”

Nothing. She says nothing. I know she’s in her room, though. I can hear her crying, but barely.

“I’m going to the park. I want you to meet me there, okay?”

Several silent moments pass before she responds.

“Daniel, go home. Please.” Her voice is soft and weak, but the message behind that sad, angelic voice is like a stab to my heart. I back away from the window, then kick the side of the house out of frustration. Or anger. Or sadness or . . . shit. All of it.

I lean back into her window and grip the frame. “Meet me at the goddamned park, Six!” I say loudly. My voice is angry. I’m angry. She’s pissing me the hell off. “We don’t do this kind of thing. You don’t play these games. You owe me a f**king explanation.”

I push away from her window and turn to walk back to my car. I make it five feet before my palms are running down my face and I’m wishing I could punch the actual air in front of me. I stop walking and pause for several moments while I search for patience. It’s in here somewhere.