Page 21 of The Thought of You

“Aren’t I? If you need any tips, you can check out my YouTube channel called ‘How to Make Girls Who Already Hate You Hate You Even More.’”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

This catches me off guard. The urge to ask him to repeat this statement—and confirm it with hard, undeniable evidence of a recording or a video—dies on my tongue as I simply accept what he says. Austin is one of her closest friends. He knows her well, and I’ve come to know him over the last few months. The one thing I learned early on is that he doesn’t say things just to say them.

I’d never admit it out loud to him or anyone else, but it means a lot to know Addie might not completely despise me.

“Of course, you’d deserve it if she hated you, but…” He rubs his bearded jaw. “Let’s just say, there’s more to Addie than you might think.”

“Kind of like Caroline?” I cock a brow. Those two have been gawking at each other all night. Clearly, there’s something going on between them.

“There’s more to her than heels and fixed-up hair, sure.” He crosses his arms over his chest, retreating into a metaphorical defensive shell.

“You don’t have to toy with me. I have eyes, and they see everything.”

“What about your nose? Does it smell you? Because the inside of my fish cooler smells better.”

I imagine this is what Austin and I might’ve been like in high school, had we been friends then. To be honest, I barely remember being in the same graduating class as him, and I’ve since learned why he was so withdrawn.

There’s definitely more to people than meets the eye, which is a good thing for humanity where Addie Lockhart is concerned. If she were nothing more than glares and sneers, we’d all be in a world of hurt.

Instead, it’s just me who bears the brunt of her sharp tongue and menacing stares.

Two cars pull into the parking lot as the girls waltz toward us.

Austin stares at Caroline in similar fashion to the way my dad looks at my mom, even after all their years of being married. “She’s going back to the city after our reunion,” he mumbles, but his defeat reaches my ears like a foghorn.

“So?” I counter.

Austin shoots me a warning glare, but it’s going to take a lot more to fool, or scare, me.

“Distance is just a number,” I sing.

“That’s what they say about age.”

“It still applies here,” I press as I step away to greet the parents arriving for their children.

I pass Addie on the way and inhale a whiff of her sweet perfume, a welcome change to my own stench.

If Austin’s right, she doesn’t want to push me into oncoming traffic, in which case, things would be very different for us.

The streetlight above us flickers on and off as the sun slowly sets, literally casting Addie in a different light, and I furrow my brows like I do when making the difficult decision between my favorite muffins at Bready or Knot.

Is there a chance for Addie and me to actually be friends?

chapter

six

OWEN

With the last of the students gone, this night concludes the last of float-building madness before the big day. After tonight, we don’t have to talk about chicken wire and school spirit for another 365 days.

Thank fuck.

And the sooner I can get out of here, the better.

I saunter back inside the old factory to finish cleaning, since Maple was too busy on her phone to sweep, but a commotion stops me in my tracks. Addie tears a bag of Skittles open, and a rainbow shower of the bright round candy explodes in a waterfall around her feet with tiny ticks against the concrete floor. It sounds like the beginning of a flash flood storm.

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