Текст книги "Hate Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

The images are powerful, emotional.

Even though I don’t want to see her naked, I want to see this movie. I want to know how Maddie went from a seemingly happy party girl to trying to commit suicide.

“That looks really good,” Aiden leans over and whispers to me. “We should go see it.”

In front of me, Dallas say, “All I know is Abby Johnston looks fucking hot. We definitely need to go see that one.”

“I’m not sure if I’d like it,” I say to Aiden.

Dallas’ response to the trailer upsets me, and I can see why it upset Vincent. Maddie looks like she lived a very wild life. And I know she did. Mom let me read the script last year when she was considering the role. Reading about it was interesting. Seeing it played out before my eyes is another thing altogether. And I know that the movie, though poignant, is also supposed to be disturbing.

A little bit sick and twisted.

And, right now, I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach. Not because I’m not proud of my mom, but because I know it’s images like these that set Vincent off.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear the commotion until Aiden startles me by quickly standing up.

I turn around to see Ace standing in front of Annie and Jake, his hands in fists and his body tense.

Whitney quickly steps in between them. “Ace, I think maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not leaving unless Annie comes with me.”

“Aaace!” Chelsea whines. She puts her hand on his back.

He shrugs it off and says, “Get away from me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie says. Her jaw is set, but her eyes are filling with tears.

Jake stands up. He’s taller than Ace, but not as broad.

“She’s not going with you. Do as Whitney asked. Leave, and take her with you,” he says with a sneer toward Chelsea. “We’re all just here to have some fun.”

The way Jake says fun makes it sound like he and Annie are hooking up and it sets Ace off. He starts to throw a punch at Jake, but Aiden and Riley are there in a flash. They have Ace’s arm pinned behind his back and are out the door in a few seconds.

Once the door slams shut behind them, Whitney says, “It’s not a party ’til someone gets in a fight. Enjoy the rest of the show.” Then she holds up a few Shark logo flasks and asks, “Anyone care to join me?”

Aiden grabs bottles of water for us and sits back down.

“You handled that well,” I tell him.

“I have something else I need to handle,” he says with a sly grin.

“What’s that?”

He picks up my purse. “Is this the bag you took to St. Croix?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He starts digging through it and pulls out the glow-in-the-dark moon. “I’m putting this back up. Where do you want it? My ceiling or yours?”

“Where do you want it?” I ask. The moon and my stupid wish are kinda the last things on my mind right now.

“Well, I wanted it on your ceiling, that’s why I put it there. But I don’t want it to mock you.” He’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“I don’t know,” I say. Part of me wants to see it on my ceiling every night and part of me wishes I never had to look at the moon again.

Aiden holds up a finger. “Wait. I have a better idea.”

“What?”

“I know the perfect place for it. I’ll show you later, okay?”

“Okay. Um, I’m not feeling great, Aiden. I think I’m going to head back to my room.”

He gets up, looking concerned, and says, “I’ll walk you.”

When I’m alone in my room, I grab my laptop and watch the movie trailer again and again.

Watching it makes me feel nauseous.

It’s way worse than I ever imagined. And I know without a doubt that I have to do something about Vincent.

And fast.

I text Garrett.

Me:  I saw the extended trailer. 

Garrett:  Me too.

Me:  Are you in Vancouver with my mom?

Garrett:  Yes. And no one knows this, but we’ve moved up our timeline. We’re not waiting until Thursday. We’re leaving now.

Me:  You’re going with them?

Garrett:  Yes, I’m one of many who are. 

Me:  Thank you.

An old map.

12:30am

Dallas:  Most everyone took Whitney up on her offer, got drunk, and went to bed. You up for a little adventure with Riley and me?

Me:  Yes. 

I throw on some warm clothes and ease quietly out the window.

Dallas and Riley are waiting for me at the clearing.

“It’s cold. Are you sure we want to do this?”

“There is one other place we could go,” Dallas says.

“Where?”

“You know how the chapel is always left open?”

“I have to draw the line at smoking in church.”

“God made weed, you know.”

“I know, but . . .”

“Cool your panties,” Riley says. “It’s not just the chapel that’s open. There’s also the social center in the basement, and we think there’s some kind of special room there.”

“Special room?”

“Cam sent me an old map, a key, and a list of rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“About taking care of the place. Passing on the key to someone worthy.”

“Why didn’t he give it to Dawson?”

“Dawson may have had a wild summer, but he’s a good boy compared to the rest of us.”

“So, by worthy you mean someone not afraid to take risks?”

Dallas says, “It’s colder than a witches’ tit. Can we discuss this later?”

“Wanna run?” Riley asks, both of them taking off before I can reply.

At the chapel, we go in the front door, up the side aisle, through a skinny door, down a set of stairs, and through a dark hallway. Once we leave the stairs, Riley starts counting.

“Twenty-seven. Stop. This should be it.”

Dallas shines a flashlight in front of us. There’s nothing but a dead end. He points it toward the wall on our left. On this wall is what appears to be a memorial stone for a Mary Jane Stockton, who died on April 20, 1920. Dallas points the light toward the other side. Nothing but a blank wall.

“There’s a door back there,” I say, pointing back. “Maybe you counted wrong.”

“Hang on,” Riley says, pulling the note out of his back pocket. Dallas shines the flashlight on the note. “See this? I didn’t know what this was, but maybe it’s a clue.”

I move the paper closer to the light. “That’s a pencil engraving.” I look up at the circular carving above Mary Jane’s name and laugh. It’s a flower with leaves that look suspiciously like a marijuana plant. “Her name is Mary Jane and she died on four-twenty? This has to be the place.”

“So where does the key go?”

I push the flower to the left and find a keyhole. “Here it is!”

Riley puts the key in the lock. We push the big stone door inward, shut it, and then look for a light.

When Dallas finds one and flips it on, I can barely believe my eyes.

We’re standing in a huge stone room. The walls are painted in bright colors and there are names and dates written all over them in black marker. There are furry and vinyl beanbags of various shapes and colors littering the floor. Psychedelic posters cover the ceiling. There’s a bar running the length of one wall with shelves just waiting to be filled. In front of it is a bar top with stools lined up underneath.

“This place is giving me a hard-on,” Dallas says.

“Me too,” I reply in awe.

I go behind the bar and find four built-in mini fridges, each bearing their year of donation, and a place to chill and tap a keg.

“I think I’m in love with the class of 2004,” Riley laughs. “Holy shit, this place is sweet.”

“And warm.”

“Look over here,” Dallas says, pointing at a foosball table from the class of 1999.

I start reading the walls. “1974 is the oldest I can find. What about you guys?”

“I’ve got a 1972!” Riley yells. “In fact, I think these are the people who started it.”

Dallas and I run over and read the inscription.

All who pass through Stockton’s door, 

Take an oath of silence swore.

In this place of legend and lore,

Party on, friends, evermore.

Samuel Torpe

Oscar Cullen

Karolyn Thorton

Olivia Newell

Class of 1972

Dallas holds up a joint. “I think we need to toast our forefathers.”

We each plop down on a beanbag.

“How is this place so clean?” I wonder aloud. “Shouldn’t it be dusty if no one has used it this year?”

“There’s probably some secret alumni fund that keeps it clean.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I agree, taking a hit.

“We need to get the keg down here and fill those bar shelves,” Riley says.

“How are we supposed to do that?” I ask.

“We’ll figure out a way. More importantly, who will we invite?”

“It’d have to be people we trust not to tell, right?” Dallas asks.

He passes me the joint again and I say, “Could we bring people here without letting them know where it is?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Blindfold them? That would keep the location safe. And without the key, no one else can get in anyway.”

Riley ponders that for a second but then gets distracted by a poster of a hot girl above his head. “This place is sweet.”

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 30TH

Sex for your ex.

English

As I’m walking to my seat in English, I get a text from B.

B:  I set up a call with the takeover guy for tonight. 12:30 am EST. 

Me:  Thank you :) 

I stand here for a few seconds, waiting for him to reply, but he doesn’t.

Dallas tickles my side as he walks by so I decide to take my seat.

But before I do, I can’t help but rub his adorable buzz cut. “Your hair is just too cute like this.”

“What is with girls? They all want to rub it. I’ve starting saying, If you rub it three times my genie will pop out.”

“Dallas!” I crack up laughing. “Has anyone taken you up on that? Speaking of which, what ever happened to Panties for the Poor?”

“Still taking donations. Just got a little sidetracked by you-know-who.”

“Ha! She’s like Voldemort. She’s so bad, we can’t even say her name.”

Dallas laughs. “And right now I’m busy with the Sex for your Ex Club.”

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

“I’m offering my services to help newly single cheerleaders get back at their ex-boyfriends.”

“You really are an extraordinary philanthropist.”

“I know,” he says, loosening his tie.

Katie plops down by us. “So, what do you think about Annie and Jake? Ace was pissed last night.”

“Good,” Dallas and I say at the same time.

We all look at each other and laugh.

“Ladies!” our teacher says. “Can we focus on class, please? And Mr. McMahon, kindly tighten your tie so I’m not forced to give you another demerit.”

After she turns toward the blackboard and continues to bore us with Shakespearean vocabulary, Katie makes a funny face and I start giggling.

Dallas whispers, “Did you get into Jake’s brownies again?”

Which makes me giggle some more.

Or maybe I’m still high from Aiden kissing the hell out of me before class.

“Miss Monroe! Why don’t you come up here and pass out the quizzes, since you seem to have so much energy.”

As soon as I stand up, Dallas flips the back of my skirt, causing the whole thing to fly up in the air, probably exposing my thong.

“Dallas!” I yell, laughing and pushing it down.

“All right. That’s it. You two. Outside.”

I freeze and wipe all emotion from my face.

Our teacher motions for us to go and follows us out in the hall, where she chews us out and tells us we’re both getting zeros on our quizzes.

Dallas and I slide down the wall, sit on ground, look at each other, and then both start giggling.

“Last night was awesome. Can you believe that place?” I ask.

“It still sorta seems like we dreamed it.”

“Could we have all had the same dream?”

“We need to find out more. Wanna go back tonight?”

I think about the text I just got from B. “Probably not. It’s only second period, and I’m already tired.”

“Come on, we need to go make sure it’s real. We’ll invite Aiden.”

“Maybe.”

An adorable wink.

Lunch

Cooper comes by our lunch table and hands me a piece of paper.

“Here’s a pass to get out of your seventh period class so we can do some physical therapy on that hamstring.”

“Um, thanks.”

“I’ll help you stretch,” Aiden says. “You should really do it every day.”

My mind immediately goes to doing it with Aiden. I don’t even try to hide my smirk. “Every day, huh?”

He whispers, “Stretching is what I was referring to, but if you want to . . .”

Jake and Annie sit down across from us and I watch as Jake gives her an adorable wink.

So cute, I think. But then Annie does something that surprises me. The girl winks right back at him.

I decide I like the new, bolder Annie.

They flirt as I pick at my food and try to think about doing it with Aiden as opposed to worrying about why Cooper needs to talk to me.

The Side Door.

7th period

Opening the door to Cooper’s office, I take a deep breath and steel myself for whatever bad news he’s about to give me.

But when I sit down, he’s grinning.

“What’s going on?”

“I decided not to wait for Garrett. I got a friend of mine to talk to Vincent’s assistant last night. Most of it’s boring bar conversation, but there’s part of it that might be something. I want you to listen.”

“Have you heard anything from Garrett? Did they all make it to France okay?”

“Yes, actually. I got a text from him a few minutes ago. He said all is good.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Okay, here goes,” he says, and presses play.

“My boss? Oh, don’t get me started. He’s always been really demanding, but now he’s almost unbearable. He’s obsessed with some girl that he saw in a club. Wants her to star in this film we’re producing. You’ve probably heard about it. The nationwide search for the next Abby Johnston.”

“Sorry, I haven’t.”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. What matters is I scheduled a business dinner he’s been on me about setting up. With their schedules, it was literally the only night I could make it happen in the next two months. When I posted the date on his calendar, he was furious. Started yelling at me about how I should know he has plans every Thursday night.”

I hear her drinking, a mug hitting the bar, and a voice saying, Another round?

She replies, Please.

“Do you want to know what stupid thing he does every Thursday night he’s in town?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He goes back to the club where he first saw her.”

“Club? What is she, a stripper?”

“No, it’s a dance club. Some bar with no name.”

“The Bar With No Name is the name of the club?”

“No, it literally has no name. One of those places where only the rich and pretty people get in. Or even know about.”

“The Side Door,” I whisper.

Cooper hits pause. “So now you know where he’s going to be tomorrow night. What’s the rest of—” He stops, squints his eyes, then continues. “The rest of the stretching plan? Go change, and I’ll meet you in training room.”

While I’m changing, I remember the first time I met Garrett. It was the day Vincent put the note in Avery’s backpack, and he asked about my habits.

“Are there times you go places by yourself?” Garrett asked me.

“Um, I guess I drive to school by myself and dance class, but that’s about it.”

“You’re supposed to go to the club later tonight,” Tommy reminded.

“Yeah, but I’m going with Cush.”

Mom and Tommy both looked at Garrett. 

He said, “I think it’s fine if you’re not alone. Are you picking him up or is he coming here?”

“I was going to pick him up.”

“Let’s have a tail on her just to be safe.”

“Uh, I don’t want some old guy in the club with us.”

“It won’t be some old guy, and he won’t follow you into the club. He’ll sit outside, watch Tommy’s car, and follow you home after you drop off your friend.”

“It’s either that or you don’t go,” Tommy said sternly.

Vincent must have followed me to the club that night. And it may have been just dumb luck that he ran into Vanessa and RiAnne there after I’d left.

In the training room, Cooper pats the table. “Lie on your back,” he says loudly, but then he whispers, “The dean is wandering around.”

I lie on the table. Cooper pulls my legs so that my butt is down toward the end of it. He pushes one of my legs straight up in the air, letting it rest on his shoulder as he leans his shoulder into the back of my thigh.

“Try to keep your knee straight,” he says. “I’ll gently push your leg toward your chest until it hurts. Then I want you to push back against me hard.”

“And you thought having me in this position would put his mind at ease?” I whisper.

He ignores me. “If you have a friend who could help you stretch before you go to bed, that would help too.”

Now I see why Aiden offered to help me stretch. Cooper’s practically lying on top of me.

My leg starts to shake, so I push back hard against his shoulder.

After pressing for a few seconds, he says, “Stop,” then gently pushes my leg again. I’m surprised that it easily goes farther than it did before.

He stretches my other leg and then says, “I’m going to get you a heat wrap.”

He leaves, comes back with a warm wrap, and says, “Okay, he’s gone. Come back here.”

He leads me into a supply room. “Tell me about The Side Door.”

“It’s where he tried to kidnap me,” I say simply. “Tomorrow night, I’m going back there.”

“What?! No, you’re not.”

“This is the part where you’re going to earn that raise.”

“Are you nuts?”

“No. I want him to think I’m back home, so he’ll stay far away from B and my family.”

Cooper keeps shaking his head.

“I’ll take care of our flight. Let’s plan on leaving here at six.”

“Fine. I think it would be best if everyone thinks I’m still here, since you’re signing out. I’m going to hide in the back of your car, okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds smart.”

Heading to the girls’ locker room to get changed for soccer, I run into Dawson.

“Hey, we’re all going to Taco Tuesday tonight, even though it’s Wednesday. You wanna come?”

“Yum. That sounds awesome.”

“Yeah, we thought we’d do that then go to the wrestling match.”

A ticking time bomb.

Tutoring

“Hey, Dawson said the guys are all going to Taco Tuesday even though it’s Wednesday. Are you?” I ask Aiden when I get to his room.

His gorgeous mouth twists into a frown. “I meant to talk to you about this last night,” he says, the frown disappearing, “but you kept my mouth busy until curfew.”

I blush. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“What about us?”

“On the beach, when we talked about Brooklyn . . .”

“Yeah?”

“I said I'd take you for now.”

“I remember.”

“Look, I know you were in a relationship with Dawson, but I feel like until we get past that point, until you decide who you . . .” He stops again. “I guess I'm saying I’m not planning to ask you to be my girlfriend—because, obviously, you aren't ready for that—but that doesn't mean I could handle you dating other people here.”

My chest swells with happiness. “I don't want you dating anyone else either.”

“Boots, I told you, you're the only girl I've kissed all semester. The only girl I ever want to kiss.”

I run my fingers through his hair. “I appreciate how understanding you’re being about all of this.”

“I have a ticking time bomb countdown app on my phone. For your birthday,” he confesses.

“Aiden, that's horrible!”

“No, it's not. It’s just reminding me that each day I get with you is precious.”

“I’m sorry I didn't tell you when I stopped doing stuff with Dawson. It must have been horrible for you when I hung out with him. Now I understand why you acted like such a little bitch sometimes.”

“What?!” he says with a grin, grabbing my waist playfully. “I think you just liked watching me suffer.”

“No, I didn’t, because when you suffered you pretend-punched my head. And pretend-punching someone's head is not nice.”

“Better than punching it for real.”

“Maybe, unless you tell them you’re pretend-punching them.” I put my finger up to his lips. “And before you say I did that. I did not. You were lurking behind me when you overheard. You told me to my face.”

He looks deep into my eyes, the playful mood turning serious with a single look. He doesn't say anything, just kisses me.

And does this kiss ever speak.

It's a kiss that's more emotional than it is sexual. It's a kiss that says all our fighting, all our misunderstandings, our lack of communication, all the hurt feelings, were worth it.

But when his tongue gets involved in the kiss and he pulls me onto the bed with him, and onto his lap, it takes the kiss to a whole other level.

It’s emotion mixed with desire.

And I decide that might be the most powerful combination of all.

With every flick of his tongue, with every greedy touch of his lips, with every caress of my face, I know it's not just a silly love potion.

It's what love is supposed to be.

Scary, exhilarating—from the top of the world to the pits of hell—all-consuming love.

I think of his time bomb app, knowing that if I had one, it would be set to go off in March when I’ll go public, not August for my birthday. Which means I should follow his lead and appreciate the time we have left.

Liquidity.

12:30am

I flip open my screen to find B waiting for me.

He looks upset. Or pissed at me, I’m not sure.

“Hey. You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, but I don’t believe him. Something’s off.

“Did something happen?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Oh, good. I’m kinda nervous about this call. I know nothing about this stuff.”

“Me either. That’s why I set you up with Michael. So, conference him in, then I’ll introduce you and let you two talk.”

“Wait? What? You’re not staying on the call?”

“There’s really no reason to.”

“Yes there is! I can’t do this without you.”

“Look, finance is not something I really give a shit about and I don’t care to learn. As long as I have my board, I’m happy.”

“We’ve had that conversation before, B. It was bullshit then and it’s bullshit now.”

“Whatever. I’m traveling and I have to practice. I don’t have time for it. Do you still want me to introduce you or what?”

I push back tears and force myself to stay calm. “Yes, please.”

B goes, “Hey, Michael. Keatyn is on the line, so I’ll let you take it from here.”

Then there’s a little beep indicating that he left the call.

Michael is talking, listing his qualifications, but I’m looking at B. He gives me a sad smile, a little finger wave, and then logs off.

“So, a hostile takeover—how long will it take?” I ask Michael, trying to cut to the chase. I mean, I’m assuming it’s not really that hard to buy a company.

“Let’s talk about whether it’s even possible first.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s possible. He’s, like, leveraged, right? And that’s bad.”

“Yes, he is. The company is ripe for a takeover, but you have to be able to make it happen.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You offer to buy his investors out. If enough people sell, then you end up with the majority of the stock, which means you control the company. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yes. Are there any other benefits?”

“Well, the obvious one would be that you vote the current Chairman of the Board out of office.”

“Is Vin, um, Mr. Sharpe the chairman?”

“Yes, he is.”

“That’s perfect. I want to do both. Buy them out and appoint someone else. What will it cost?”

“That all depends on what his stockholders want. I’m emailing you a simple document so you can follow along.” The way he says “simple” makes it sound like he thinks I don’t have a clue.

I mean, I don’t. But still, I’m not loving his attitude.

I don’t say anything, though, because I desperately need his help.

“I have the email,” I tell him, pulling the document up on my computer.

“His company isn’t publicly traded, so it’s hard to get financial information. The numbers you see are what I believe it to be worth. And, from the digging I did as a favor to Mr. Wright, I have a list of investors along with their initial investments. Those are below. Do you see them?”

“Yes.”

“The next document shows the company’s liabilities. And the next is Mr. Sharpe’s balance statement.”

I scroll through page after page of spreadsheets, trying to keep up. “Uh, huh.”

“As you can see, his asset to debt ratio is very high.”

“Okay. And why is that important?”

“That ratio refers to his liquidity. He’s borrowed money on all of his assets, meaning he won’t be able to personally fight a hostile takeover. From on-the-ground intel, he’s invested a lot of money in a single movie and is betting the farm that it’s going to be a blockbuster.”

Mom’s movie could financially ruin him?

Wouldn’t that be poetic justice?

“But, as you can see from the figures on the last page, acquiring this company will take a substantial amount of capital.”

I look at the very big number on the last page. One that would require more than my entire trust. I think about the scholarship check I just wrote.

For a second, I reconsider it.

I quickly shake my head, clearing the thought. I can’t take it back and I don’t want to.

Besides, B promised his trust to help.

I’ll be fine.

“How do you plan to raise these funds?”

“Well, I have my trust fund, and Brooklyn said we could use his for whatever I’m short.”

“That’s what I thought. Unfortunately, Brooklyn doesn’t have control of his trust, nor will his father authorize the early release of any funds. So, unless you can arrange financing, there’s nothing further to discuss.”

This is why B didn’t want to be on the call.

Freaking chicken shit.

“I can get the money,” I say quickly.

“And how is a seventeen-year-old going to do that?” he asks condescendingly.

“I don’t know exactly,” I admit quietly.

“That’s what I figured.”

I bite my tongue, thank him for his time, and hang up.

I set the phone down in my lap, feeling paralyzed, like I’m lost at sea with no land in sight.

How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to win without B’s help?

I can’t.

That means prong two of my attack is out, which blows my whole plan to smithereens.

Damnit!

He has to help me. He promised! This was his idea!

I call him.

He doesn’t answer.

I hang up and call again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I keep punching the button over and over.

By the time he finally answers, I’m pissed and crying frustrated tears.

“You should have told me yourself if you didn’t want to help me! I can’t believe you would bail on me like this! I need you!”

“This hasn’t exactly been easy on me. I’ve gotten shit from every direction for what I said about you. God, it was spur of the moment! I am grateful that you encouraged me! And I care about you. I wanted to help. My dad was willing to help, but he freaked the fuck out yesterday when he heard about the photo. Told me if I have anything to do with you it will jeopardize everything we’ve worked so hard for. My career. My future. He trashed the takeover idea. Said it was like poking the hornet’s nest. Said I can’t use my trust. So, I’m sorry, but my hands are tied. And, come on, don’t I get some credit for what I’ve already done? Michael did all sorts of research.”

“You should’ve had the guts to tell me yourself. And without your help I don’t have enough money to go through with it anyway! My plan—no, your plan—is ruined.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You just don’t get it!” I yell. And as soon as I say the words, I know they’re true. I realize that’s exactly the problem. Other than one horrible picture, B’s life hasn’t changed much. He’s not in hiding. He’s living his dream.

“What don’t I get?”

I calm down and use my bitch voice, hoping I can scare him into seeing how important this is. “Every move you make is on the internet, Brooklyn. The tour schedules. The photos. You might think you can just bow out, but you can’t. You screwed yourself when you thanked me. And that means she’s in danger too.”

“Don’t give me a guilt trip. I know you’re seeing someone too.”

“Yeah, but the difference is, I’m somewhere safe. You’re not.”

I hang up on him.

And feel very alone.

I sit in the cold stairwell staring at the floor until my phone buzzes, startling me.

Hottie God:  Dallas and Riley want to take me somewhere tonight. You up for that?

Me:  Uh, no. Not at all.

Hottie God:  Are you tired?

Me:  Yes, but I can’t sleep. 

Hottie God:  Then I’m coming over until you can.

Me:  I’m kind of crabby.

That’s an understatement.

I roll my eyes at myself. I’ll just tell him not to come. That I’ll see him tomorrow.

Hottie God:  I’ll rub your face like I did when you were sick.

Or not.

Me:  I’ll be waiting.

I sneak into my room, unlock the window, and get under my covers.

A few minutes later, Aiden has his arms wrapped tightly around me, and my face is snuggled into his neck.

“You sound like you’ve been crying,” he whispers.

“Just, you know, family stuff,” I say, sort of telling him the truth.

“Tell me. Maybe I can help?”

“No one can help, Aiden,” I say pathetically.

He runs his hand over my tense neck muscles, kneading them gently.

“That feels good.”

“You’re stressed and I want to make you feel better. In the morning, I’ll be gone, but I want you to . . .”