Chapter 2
I stared at him. "I am not."
He rocked forward on his chair and pressed his palms to the table. When I didn't move, he flicked his head toward my bedroom, just a few feet away. "You want me to pack for you?"
I stood my ground. "No."
He shoved back his chair and stood. He strode around the table. Brushing past me, he headed toward my bedroom while I followed on his heels. When he opened the bedroom door, he stopped and gave the shabby little room the once-over.
He made a sound of disgust.
"What?" I said.
"You don't belong here."
"Why not?"
"Because," he said, "it's depressing as hell."
I glanced around, taking in the gray walls, the dingy carpet, and the narrow window that offered a cinderblock view of the neighboring building.
"And you just figured this out?" I lowered my voice. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I'll tell you in the car."
I glanced toward Maddie's bedroom. "And what about Maddie?"
He turned his head in my direction, and his dark gaze bored into mine. "What about her?"
I crossed my arms and gave him a snotty smile. "Isshegoing with us too?"
He looked only mildly interested. "You want her to?"
I made a scoffing sound. "I'mnot even going with you. What Maddie does is her own business."
He left the doorway and strode into my bedroom. I followed after him and shut the door behind us. At one time, forever ago, we'd been friends, or at least that's what I'd thought, right up until the moment he'd kicked me to the curb like yesterday’s garbage.
I hadn't seen him in how long? Six years? Of course, I'd been seventeen back then, way too young to be hanging out with the likes of Jake Bishop.
Even back then, he'd been wild to the core, and dangerous as hell. But to me? He'd been that teenage girl’s wet dream, the guy you couldn't stop thinking about, no matter how hard you tried.
Stupidly, I'd had this massive crush on him. But that was a long time ago. Now, I was twenty-three and a college graduate. Older, wiser, and mostly reformed, I was way too smart to be crushing on anyone like him.
Recalling the difference in our ages, I did the math in my head. Jake would be how old now? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Back when I'd been in high school, the five years between us had seemed monumental.
Now, the difference would be nothing. A scoffing sound escaped my lips. Less than nothing, actually. Probably, I was a lot more mature than Jake was, at least where it counted.
He stopped to give me a look. “Something funny?” he asked.
No way I'd be sharingthisjoke with him. "That depends," I said. "Do you like knock-knock jokes?"
"No." He strode toward my closet. He flung open the door. He stopped short, staring into the mostly empty space. He didn't turn around. "Where's your stuff?"
I felt color rise to my face. "Actually," I said, "it's kind of a long story."
Jake pushed aside a row of empty hangers and reached for the few that actually held clothes. "You'll be telling me later," he said.
"That's whatyouthink." I flopped onto my freshly made bed and watched him with morbid curiosity. A normal girl would stop him this instant. Iwouldhave stopped him, or at least tried to, except, honestly, there was nothing in my closet worth defending.
