Page 27 of Racing Hearts

I’m quiet the whole way there, and I know the atmosphere in the car is tense, so it doesn’t surprise me when they both climb out quickly when we pull up at campus. Evan waves tersely and waits for Alice, who leans into my window.

“Stop being an ass. You like the boy, so flirt, don’t be a mean idiot.” She huffs before heading his way, their arms linked as they chatter and walk toward their building. I could never be like that with him.

I could never touch him like that in public or handle the stares we would get. It pisses me off and only puts me in a worse mood, knowing he’s more suited to my sister.

I gun it to work despite being early and shove my headphones in, ignoring everyone else. Not long after I get there, my phone buzzes, and I pull it out.

Rich Boy: How is your wound? Are you in pain? I can bring you some Tylenol.

I stare at the message, this morning flashing through my mind. We can never be together. We can never be anything. Besides, I don’t even like him like that, so I should just stop leading him on. It’s not fair to him, at least that’s what I tell myself anyway as I block his number and toss my phone into my toolbox, focusing on the car before me.

While I work, Evan’s words from last night float into my mind. I deserve to dream and be happy.

What would make me happy?

Truthfully, I don’t even know anymore, but something about his sunshine smile, even for a moment, made me believe I had the right to be.

Reality has set back in, though, and it’s better this way.

I should have known better. My past is a stark reminder of why I can’t have Evan Shaw—a truth that Alice doesn’t even know, nor will she ever.

It’s another reason I moved here—one I will never share.

FOURTEEN

Istare at my phone for the hundredth time in the last hour. He hasn’t responded to any of my messages. I told myself at dinner I wouldn’t text again. He obviously doesn’t want to talk to me, but I still type out a message as I lean back in my chair, waiting for the lecture to start, Lally talking happily at my side.

Evan: Ah, so we are back to ignoring me now, huh?

This time, the message doesn’t send, and I gape. “Lally,” I interrupt.

“Huh?” She leans over as I thrust my phone at her.

“What does that mean?”

She scans the messages and winces. “Uh, doesn’t that mean they blocked your number?”

“Seriously?” I mutter, staring at my phone. “What an asshole.” Dropping it to my desk, I glare at the front of the room. I feel Lally watching me, but I ignore her, suddenly in a terrible mood. When she glances away, I snatch up my phone, and despite the fact I know they won’t go through, I text him.

Evan: Seriously, you blocked me?

Evan: What the hell is your problem?

Evan: I know you’re an asshole, but seriously?

Evan: I didn’t ask you to drive me home last night or to pick me up this morning.

Evan: You could have just texted me and told me to leave you alone, said no. It’s called communication, you fucking dick.

Evan: But no, you blocked me because you have the emotional intelligence of a sausage.

Evan: You want me to leave you alone? Fine, I will.

I quickly change his name to “Asshole—do not answer.”

My mood sours with each undelivered notification, so I turn my phone off and shove it in my bag. I’m sick of this hot-and-cold treatment. He hit me, kissed me. He spent last night talking to me, letting me in, then he flirted with me all night and blocked me.

I don’t understand him one fucking bit.

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