Page 16 of Forbidden Lyrics

And wait.

A minute later, it opens with a loud squeak.

With hollow cheeks and messy hair, Maddie glares at me. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Sorry. I locked my keys in my car.”

The wrinkles etched into her forehead smooth out almost instantly. “Oh. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

She opens the door fully and lets me inside. “How’d you get home? Did you take the bus or something?”

“No. A coworker drove me home. Speaking of which, do you know an Emma? Apparently, she used to live in the building.”

Maddie’s expression hardens. “Why do you ask?”

“My coworker knew a girl who lived in our building named Emma.”

“Which coworker? Is it the Reese girl you mentioned earlier?”

“No. His name is––”

“Excuse me?”

With a frown, I ask, “What?”

“You said his.”

“Oh. He’s a male coworker,” I explain.

“A guy? What's his name?” she demands, her gaze narrowing in suspicion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I just got caught red-handed. Which has never happened before. I’m too much of a rule follower to do anything that would get me in trouble unless you count listening to Eminem on the radio without anyone else in the car.

But still.

“Why are you acting weird?” I ask.

“Answer the question, Dove.”

“Okaaaay. His name is Gibson––”

“You need to stay away from him,” she interrupts, nostrils flaring.

I flinch back. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s bad news.”

The panic in her voice makes me pause. Maddie’s never anxious. Heck, she’s never even concerned. She’s stubborn. Impulsive. And prickly on a good day. But never anxious. The realization makes my heart rate tick up a notch.

“W-what kind of bad news, Mads?”

“I was friends with Em, okay?” she seethes, her entire body shaking. “She told me plenty of stories about the guy, and he’s bad news. Stay. Away.” There’s something about the way she says it. The wide eyes. The shallow breathing. The fear that feels so misplaced, I’m left reeling.

It doesn’t make sense. Other than the offhand comment by the guy at SeaBird, Gibson has never been anything but a stand-up guy. And tonight, he proved it firsthand, even though I know for a fact that he’s never liked me.

I shake my head. “W-what are you talking about, Mads? He’s only ever been a nice, stand-up guy––”

“You can’t be serious,” she spits, her fear morphing into anger in the blink of an eye. All right. Maybe I’m stretching the truth a little bit. But he protected me from the jerk at work. He went out of his way and drove me home tonight. Those actions have to count for something.

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