sordid act I'd rather not see.
But even though it's business as usual over there, with everyone up to the same old antics, for today at least, it's flower free.
I guess because Damen's not there.
Fifteen
I'd just fallen asleep when Damen calls. And even though I'd spent the last two days convincing myself not to like him, the second I hear his voice, I surrender.
"Is it too late?"
I squint at the glowing green numbers on my alarm clock, confirming it is, but answering, "No, it's okay."
"Were you asleep?"
"Almost." I prop my pillows against my cloth-covered headboard, then lean back against them.
"I was wondering if I could come over?"
I gaze at the clock again, but only to prove his question is crazy. "Probably not such a good idea," I tell him, which is followed by such a prolonged silence I'm sure he's hung up.
"I'm sorry I missed you at lunch," he finally says. "Art too. I left right after English."
"Um, okay," I mumble, unsure how to respond, since it's not like we're a couple, it's not like he's accountable to me.
"Are you sure it's too late?" he asks, his tone deep and persuasive. "I'd really like to see you. I won't stay long."
I smile, thrilled with this tiny shift in power, to be calling the shots for a change, and allowing myself a mental high-five when I say, "Tomorrow in English works for me."
"How about I drive you to School?" he asks, his voice nearly convincing me to forget about Stacia, Drina, his hasty retreat, everything-just clean the slate, let bygones be bygones, start all over again.
But I haven't come this far too give up so easily. So I force the words from my lips when I say, "Miles and I carpool. So I'll just see you in English." And knowing better than to risk his changing my mind, I snap my phone shut and toss it across the room.
The next morning when Riley pops in, she stands before me and says, "Still cranky?"
I roll my eyes.
"I'll take that as a yes." She laughs, hopping on top of my dresser and kicking her heels against the drawers.
"So, who are you dressed as today?" I toss a pile of books into my bag and glance at her tight bodice, full skirt, and cascading brown hair.
"Elizabeth Swann." She smiles.
I squint, trying to remember that name. "Pirates?"
"Duh." She crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue. "So what's up with you and Count Fersen?"
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door, determined to ignore the question when I call, "Coming?"
She shakes her head. "Not today. I have an appointment."
I lean against the doorjamb and squint. "What do you mean by 'appointment'?"
But she just shakes her head and hops off the dresser. "None of your beeswax." She laughs, walking straight through the wall and disappearing.
Since Miles was running late, I end up running late too, and by the time we make it to school, the parking lot is completely full. All except for the very best, most sought-after space.
The one on the very end. The one closest to the gate.