Page 31 of Forbidden Lessons

When I go back inside, the guy in the red hoody is gone.

Thank fuck.

Danielle sees my shoulders slope down with relief and must mistake it for resignation because she gives me a pat on the arm as she passes. “Don’t worry, he paid.”

I clock out at ten that night with a faint headache and an urgent need for some sleep. Since I made a few bucks in tips and got some studying done, I’m going to call it a win.

Plus, I scored half a stale apple pie, a quarter gallon of questionable milk, and fries someone sent back because someone got their side order wrong.

Whoops.

I’m on a no-money diet. So yeah, I take them.

I’ve developed this fun new habit of juggling too many things as I try to get into my car. My apple pie almost ends up on the ground. But thankfully the car door is halfway open, so it crash lands on the front seat instead.

On top of my textbooks.

Shit.

Crouching half-in, half out of the car, I wedge the milk jug in the passenger-side footwell, between a wadded up sweater and a pair of distressed leather boots. Then I carefully scoop the apple pie back into the take-out container and start dusting crumbs and apple goo off the stack of library books.

“God, Haven, could you be more clumsy?” I mutter to myself as I pause to stare at my sticky hands.

“What about the time you fell into that puddle of mud by the creek?”

I knock my head as I shoot up in surprise.

The pie drops into the seat again.

“Fuck!”

“What happened to the girl who used to say ‘sugar?’” Kai peers calmly at me as I turn to face him, the heel of my hand pressed to the aching spot on my head.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

He shrugs, glances around. “Felt like some coffee. Pity you’re already closed.”

My car is the only one in the parking lot. Danielle parks in front of the diner because she says she gets all her steps in working her shift. All the customers have left.

Kai must have been waiting in the shadows, because I didn’t notice him when I came out. No one with good intentions lurks in the dark.

“Right,” I mutter, dropping my hands to my sides. “Let me guess, you were just in the neighborhood?”

“No.”

When he sees how surprised I am, he smiles wryly. “I’m not as good a liar as you are, Haven.”

It’s not the cool breeze blowing past us that makes my skin prickle. He walks closer, forcing me to back up, but there’s only a few inches for me to go before the back of my legs hit the car.

“I don’t come down to Riverside anymore. It’s too hard to get the stink out of my clothes. But when—“ he glances away for a second “—a friend of mine spotted you here, I had this sudden craving for pie.”

The guy in the red hoody.

I fuckingknewsomething was up with that guy.

“Stay the hell away from me.”

We both move at the same time.

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