Page 4 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say.

I never did. But having good intentions doesn’t always pay off. When it comes to Echo, all the good intentions in the world mean nothing in the face of what happened.

“I don’t care what you want.” She rubs her upper arms, trying to warm herself, as the breeze picks up. “Not everything is about you.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t think you do.”

I sigh. “Look, I know you won’t forgive me. I don’t expect you to. For what it’s worth, I’m so fucking sorry, but I know you probably don’t give a crap about that, and rightly so. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not going anywhere. Now, can I help you inside? Because you don’t look great.”

Her eyes turn flinty. It’s not an expression I’m used to seeing on her. Another way she’s changed.

“No,” she says. “You may not.”

She starts marching toward the entrance. I fall into step with her.

“Can I call one of your friends to keep you company?” I ask. “I’m not sure you should be alone after having a panic attack.”

“No.”

The door opens, and a man in a navy uniform—a security guard, perhaps—saunters toward us, his gaze flicking from Echo to me.

“Is this guy bothering you?” he asks her.

She tosses a look over her shoulder at me. “Yeah, he is.”

The guard’s hand goes to his hip. I doubt he’s carrying a gun, but he might have pepper spray or a taser.

“Beat it,” he growls.

Despite my frustration, I’m proud of Echo for standing up for herself, and I’m pleased she has protection. I hold my hands up to show the guard I’m not a physical threat, but I don’t take my eyes off Echo.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her.

2

ECHO

Ben, the security guard, leans closer to me. “You need me to call the police?”

“No.” I wrap my arms more tightly around myself. “But thanks anyway.”

As he swipes his keycard and we enter the building, warm air rushes down on me from the heat pump above the entrance. I glance over my shoulder, relieved when the door clicks shut, and I can see Tyler still on the other side of it.

Without a keycard, he can’t get to me here. I’m not stupid enough to think that he couldn’t get his hands on a keycard if he wanted one, but for now, I’m safe. Even if he were to get inside, he doesn’t know my room number, and I always keep the door locked.

I learned the hard way how important personal security is.

When we reach the elevator, Ben presses the button.

“See you later,” he says as the doors sweep open, and I step inside.

“Bye.”

When the elevator doors close, I draw in several slow, deep breaths before pushing the symbol for the third floor. I ride in silence, grateful that there aren’t any stops along the way.

The doors glide open, and I hurry along the corridor, digging in my pocket for the keys before fumbling them. They drop to the floor, and I have to snatch them back up again, nearly getting knocked over by a guy coming out of another dorm room.

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