Page 35 of Racing Hearts

Maybe it was just my imagination?

Fuck, I hope so.

EIGHTEEN

Evan is ignoring me.

He didn’t text me back. I know he read it though, and I have checked if he blocked me often. He hasn’t, which is somehow worse. It’s a taste of my own medicine, and I fucking hate it.

Despite my need for money, I spent last night waiting for him. It was late when he emerged from campus and came home. It pissed me off. Where had he been and with whom? I wanted to demand answers, but I don’t deserve them. Instead, I stalked him home like a creeper to make sure he got there safely, and then I went home and silently fumed all night, stalking his socials to make sure no one tagged him in anything and to see if he posted.

He didn’t.

I have no idea where he was or what he was doing. I tell myself he was near the library. He could have been studying, but I don’t know for sure, and I hate that. He doesn’t owe me anything, he isn’t mine, but the idea of someone else touching him?

Yeah, it makes me pissed as hell.

He said he gave up, but did he really mean it?

It was all I wanted, but now, it hurts and annoys me.

That’s why I wait after dropping Alice off. He’s late today, but he eventually hurries by, fixing his hair as he runs, his unbuttoned shirt exposing tan abs, and my hands curl into fists at the show he’s giving everyone. He doesn’t even seem to notice people watching him with lustful eyes—like me, the girls sitting on the grass giggling, or the guy skating past.

No, he’s completely oblivious, and I hate it. I nearly marched out there to button every single button so no one else could see him, but he’d probably hit me. I’d deserve it. His bag falls from his shoulder, and I hear him curse as he stops to pick it up. He throws it over his shoulder, blowing out his cheeks which are red from running, and then his head jerks around like he feels me. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, he stares at me before he turns away and hurries to his building, dismissing me.

I’ll admit I sit here for far too long, telling myself I can’t march into his school and drag him out and demand he speak to me. Instead, I head to work. It’s the only thing I seem to do besides stalk Evan Shaw.

He has ignored me every morning this week.

It’s been five fucking days of him purposely not looking at me no matter what I do, like talking loudly to Alice, cranking my music up, and revving my engine. He doesn’t look at me once. He ignores me like I’m not there, and it’s pissing me off.

I am there every morning regardless, just to get a glimpse of him under the guise of dropping Alice off. I’m pathetic, and that’s only confirmed when Alice turns up at dinnertime at the garage.

Her arms are crossed, and her eyes are narrowed.

Worry slides through me as I dry my hands on a rag, heading her way and pulling her out of earshot. “Are you okay?” I ask. She would only come here if something was wrong.

“Yes, you.” She pokes me in the chest. “Whatever you did, apologize now.”

“What?” I frown.

“You did something to Evan, apologize.”

“He said something? Is he okay? Is he upset?—”

“No, he doesn’t need to say anything. He doesn’t look at you anymore, and you’ve been stalking him all week like a creep.” I blink. “Yeah, I noticed, so apologize for whatever you did.”

“Why do you assume I did something?” I grumble instead of denying it.

“Alek, you’re my brother, and I love you, but you’re an ass.” She sighs. “And dumb. You did something, now fix it because staring holes through his head every morning isn’t working, and I hate seeing you stomp around, sulking every night.”

“I don’t sulk,” I protest, and her eyebrow arches. “I . . . brood. It’s different.”

“How?” She tilts her head.

“It’s . . . manly.”

“Well, you and your manly sulking—I’m sorry, I mean brooding, need to fuck off and fix this or I’m going to kill you.” She pats my chest. “Good talk, by the way. He’s at work right now.” She starts to walk away.

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