“Okay.”
She eyes me with that little secretive smile of hers again. “No, I’ve got something much better in mind.” Olive’s eyes have left mine and search the darkness behind me instead. The sun has long since set, leaving the streets lit only by the yellow light of the lamps lining either side.
“There’s a restaurant near here that I like,” she says, her grip growing tighter around my upper arm. “Just on the other side of town. It’s a little bit of a walk, I hope you don’t mind.”
Suddenly, the prospect of actually sitting down in front of Olive and having an actual date—with conversation and everything—hits me like a truck. I should not be here. I should not be doing this.
The night suddenly feels suffocating.
“Actually, you know what, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I say, glancing back down the road towards the bar where the taxi dropped me off. Is it too late to bolt?
“Oh my god, is this about the walk?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. “I promise it’s worth it.”
“I—I—yeah, it’s the walk,” I say, mind wracking for an answer. “I didn’t eat all day, and waiting around for food at a restaurant …” I trail off. “What if we just eat at the bar?
It’d be much easier to make an escape that way. Order a drink. Slip out the back.
Apologize later.
But Olive came prepared, apparently.
She just rolls her eyes at me. “Boys and their appetites,” she says, with a loud sigh. “Fortunately for you, I came prepared. I’ve spent enough time around Jasper to know sometimes you’ve just got to feed a boy to keep him happy.”
I balk at her a moment, but when I see her tug a granola bar out of her purse, I suddenly can think of nothing else. She’s barely pressed the wrapper into my outstretched hand than I’ve ripped it off an inhaled the entire thing in one bite.
“We can cut through here,” she says, taking the opportunity to tug me further away from the bar. I have no choice but to follow her down a narrow alleyway between two buildings, my mouth too full of precious granola to argue. I don’t even bring up the fact that it’s kind of weird of her to bring up Jasper already.
Or the fact that somehow I doubt feeding him is the solution to keeping him happy. At least, where I’m concerned.
There are no streetlamps in the alley, leaving it so dark that we instinctively huddle close together as we walk. Her hand grips even tighter around my arm in the dark, her nails digging into me until I have to bite the inside of my lips to keep from crying out. I feel her resolve waver, catch her taking a turn to glance over her shoulder towards the streets behind us.
“Are you sure this is the way?” I ask, trying not to let the skittishness in my voice sound too obvious. I’m unsuccessful.
Olive just digs her nails deeper into my jacket and lets out a laugh. “First date jitters, eh?”
My own laugh is half-hearted. “Sure. That’s what this is.”
The alley grows so narrow that we have to stop and squeeze our way between a couple of enormous trash bins, and I see my chance. I’m steeling myself up to insist we head back at once when, as soon as I step out onto the other side of the bins, a figure appears, cutting off our path.
I put back an arm to try to motion for Olive to stop, but I’m too late. She stumbles out beside me and freezes at the sight of the silhouette in front of us.
Olive clutches me tighter. My stomach drops. What now?
Then Olive breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh,” she says with a soft laugh. “It’s just you, Jas.”
Jasper. What brings Olive relief only makes the fear inside me surge even higher.
Jasper walks into the alley, smirking. There’s a shuffling noise behind us, and I glance over my shoulder as Heath and Beck push the bins out of the way from the other side. We’re surrounded.
Olive may feel safe, but I know that I’m in danger here.
“You two make a cute couple,” Jasper says, sneering at us after a moment of taking us in.
Olive hesitates next to me, and I wonder if she’s sensing the same things I am. Surely she can see the strange way he’s standing, as if there’s a nervous energy causing him to rock back and forth on his heels in front of us. Is he drunk?
The slur in his voice confirms my suspicions.
“Saw you meet up at the bar, thought we’d pop over and say hey,” he says, fixing his eyes on me. Once they meet mine, they never leave. His glare bores into me, making my heart pound louder in my ears with every passing second.