Page 36 of Remember Us This Way

Ms. Lennon gives me a wide smile, and with that, I take off, knowing it’s now or never. I can only hope this crazy little stunt doesn’t end with a pair of handcuffs strapped tightly around my wrists.

15

Zoey

Needing the school to be almost deserted, I stop by my locker and take extra long to collect my things, slinging my bag over my shoulder before closing the door. Glancing up and down the hallway, it occurs to me that Tarni didn’t even bother to hang around and say goodbye like usual, but the second the thought enters my mind, it’s already gone.

At least ten minutes after the bell sounds, I make my way outside. My hands shake violently as I shove them deep into my pockets. Then, without a soul in sight, I let out a nervous breath before finally making my break for it.

I slip out of the building and make a sharp right, taking the long way around to keep hidden from anyone still lingering outside the school. I hear the football team on the field getting started with their drills, and I realize this could be my only chance. I step out from behind the building and slip into the boys’ locker room, my face scrunching at the foul, lingering stench of stale boy sweat.

I can happily say that until this very moment, this is the only room in the whole school that I hadn’t been in—and for good reason. There’s nothing particularly exciting about it, apart from one tiny little thing—Noah’s keys to that fancy Camaro that’s sitting so lonely out in the student parking lot.

And now all I have to do is figure out which one of these lockers belongs to him.

Creeping deeper into the room, I glance around, hoping like hell there’s no one left in here. The lockers are dirty with the players’ things scattered from one end of the room to the other. Half of their lockers have been left open, while only a few of them have bothered to keep their things tidy.

Noah was always the neat and tidy type. He never liked people touching his things and made a point to always make sure everything had a spot. With that snippet of information, I look closer at the few tidy lockers, knowing one of these would be his. Red varsity jackets linger at most of the lockers, but there’s only one of the clean lockers without a jacket.

Bingo.

Noah’s only been here a week, and this school isn’t put together enough to have a spare varsity jacket on standby to give him. I’m sure that will come later, but for now, he’s the only football player without one.

Striding across the locker room, I grip the little combination lock and stare down at it, wondering what four-digit code he would use.

I start with his birthday, and when that doesn’t work, I mentally kick myself for not trying Linc’s birthday first. How stupid could I be? What other code would he possibly have? My heart pounds, and I try to get this done as quickly as possible, but when the lock still doesn’t open, my brows furrow. Maybe this isn’t his locker after all.

Glancing around, I try to figure out which of the others could be his, but none of them make sense to me. This is the only one that stands out. It just feels . . . right.

This has to be it, but what other code would he use? He’s not the type for coming up with random numbers and calling it a day. He’ll forget them. No, he’s always used something meaningful, something he’ll remember. He always used . . . crap. He always used my birthday, the same code I use now.

Curiosity pulls at my chest, and as I grab the combination lock again, I look down at it as though it might bite me. My heart races, and I don’t know why, but I push the building anxiety away before finally entering my birthday—0228.

The combination lock clicks open, and my jaw drops as I stare at the open lock. There’s no way that actually just happened. I know he used to use my birthday when we were kids. It was his code for everything, just as mine used to be his, but I assumed he would have changed that years ago. The fact that he’s still using it . . . I don’t know how to feel about that.

Is there a part of him still hanging on to me, or was he just too lazy to figure out another number combination to use? Probably option number two.

Not wanting to hang around and get caught in here, I hastily pull the locker open, and the second I do, I’m hit in the face with Noah’s cologne, and it’s everything. My eyes roll and my knees go weak, but I push it aside, searching through his things until I hear the familiar jingle of car keys.

I pull them out of the locker, but they feel heavier than I was expecting, and I glance down, sucking in a breath as I find my favorite Z keyring.

“That rat bastard,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head and realizing that he must have stolen it.

My keyring went missing last year, way after Noah had stopped talking to me, and I know for a fact that it was put away safely in my jewelry box. And then one day—poof—it was gone. I accused Hazel of stealing it, and she screamed at me, telling me she was innocent, but I wouldn’t hear it. I owe her an apology. How the hell was I supposed to know that Noah freaking Ryan snuck into my room and stole it? As far as I was aware, he hadn’t set foot in my home since before Linc’s funeral. Hell, I wonder what else he’s stolen over the years.

That assface has got another thing coming.

Not having the time to get all worked up about it now, I shove the keys into my pocket and scram.

After sneaking out of the locker room, I backtrack to the main part of the school, just so I can walk straight out the normal doors and not cause any suspicion. Who am I kidding? It’s already suspicious that I’m walking out of here so much later than the rest of the students, but I could come up with a million excuses as to why I’m loitering on school property that would be more believable than the truth.

Just as I did every day last week, I walk to the student parking lot, keeping my gaze locked heavily on the ground in front of me, refusing to glance up at the football field, not wanting to see him. He’s bad for my health, and until I can get the image of him falling to his knees at the idea of me needing protection from him out of my head, I need to play it smart.

Making my way down to my Range Rover, I feel his laser-sharp stare on the side of my face, but I do what I can to ignore it as I put on a show of unlocking my car and opening the door. My hands shake. I’m going to have to time this just right. Noah is fast, and if I fumble even a second, I’ll be screwed. When I pulled up this morning, I was frustrated to find the only available spot right next to Noah’s Camaro, but now, having it so close is nothing but a gift from the Hemsworth gods.

I feel myself growing sweaty, and I know it has absolutely nothing to do with the blistering Arizona sun and everything to do with the fact that I’m about to steal Noah Ryan’s car.

Yep. I really have lost my mind.

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