23
CLAIRE
I’ve been braver today than I have in averylong time.
I’ve said and done things so out of character that I’ve honestly surprised myself.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s been freaking terrifying, but having those little breakthrough moments with Johnny, where I saw his walls start to come down, made it all totally freaking worth it.
He’s hiding something. And if my intuition is right, it’s big. Big and dangerous and probably illegal.
Some risks are worth taking, and with him, my gut is screaming at me to take this leap of faith. What do I have to lose, anyway?
I’m sitting on the couch in my mom’s condo when a knock rattles the door. I jump up and rush over, holding my breath in anticipation for what’s on the other side.
Part of me is scared of what condition Johnny will be in when he returns from whatever he’s doing. He’s been in a constant state of bumps and bruises since I met him, and I can only imagine that will continue while he’s wrapped up with histhing. It’s tough to stomach and not be able to do anything about it.
Revenge is bittersweet, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t one of the main reasons I offered to help him figure out who it was that attacked him in the alley.
I’m not even sure what the hell I’d do, but the psycho who did that to him deserves to pay insomekind of way.
I open the door to find him standing there in the condition he was when he left me a couple hours ago, only he’s wearing a different shirt. A black one. I quickly scan his face and arms for any sign of distress. I exhale and try to hide the relief that courses through me.
“Hey.” He’s failing miserably at hiding his grin.
“Hey.”
“You ready to get back to work?” Johnny leans against the frame.
“Yeah. You want to come in?”
“Have you eaten?”
Is this where I admit that I’ve been sitting here frantically watching the seconds tick by on the clock while I waited for him to arrive back safely? “Nope.”
“Grab your stuff.”
I follow along without question, going back to the living room and shoving my notebooks into my bag. I slide my phone and keys in my pocket on the way out.
“Here, let me.” He takes my backpack from me and slings it over his shoulder.
Did I just time travel to the seventh grade, where a boy is carrying my books for me?
“Uh, thanks.” I find myself unsure of how to react to such a thoughtful gesture.
At least the errand he was sent out on didn’t put him in a bad mood, or worse, damage his pretty face.
Questions rattle their way through my head at the missing hours between when I saw him last. I want the answers to all of them, but I don’t think it’s my place to ask.
I choose something basic. “Everything go okay?” A simple yes or no that doesn’t give away anything too incriminating.
We stroll side by side down the stairs and across the empty courtyard.
He pauses to open the gate and glances down at me. “Surprisingly, yeah.”
I assume from the reoccurring black eyes and busted lip that not being injuredisa surprise.
“Good.” I try not to pry anymore despite nearly bursting at the seams with the need to follow up.