Page 56 of A Wish for Us

Not even myself.

I picked up my tray and cast one last glance out of the window.

Cromwell was gone. So I went to my class, wondering how everything had gotten so messed up.

* * *

“…and let the darkness fade…”

I finished my most recent song, put down my guitar, and scribbled the new lyric and chords down on the staff paper. I closed my eyes, replaying it in my head to make sure it was perfect, when there was a knock at my door. I looked up at my clock. It was nine p.m.

I looked down at myself. I was dressed in black leggings, a black top, and a white cardigan. My hair was thrown back in a messy bun. Basically, I wasn’t suited for company this late on a Friday night.

My legs ached as I walked to the door. My ankles were heavy from too much walking. I cast a quick glance around my room. The boxes were stashed in my closet. If it was Easton, I didn’t want him to see. Slapping my cheeks to bring more life to my skin, I eventually turned the knob. I opened the door just a fraction and looked out into the hallway.

Cromwell Dean was leaning against the opposite wall, hands in his black jean pockets. He was wearing a black knit sweater, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Farraday,” he greeted casually.

“Cromwell?”

He pushed off the wall and came to stand in front of me. He smirked. “You decent?” He pointed at the partially open door.

I flushed then opened the door the rest of the way. I wrapped my cardigan tightly around me. “Yes.” I looked down both sides of the hallway. It was empty. “What are you doing here, Cromwell?”

He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear and a chain hanging from the waistband of his jeans. “I’ve come for you.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you somewhere.”

After hours of quiet, my tired heart kicked to life. “You’re what?”

“Get some shoes on, Farraday. You’re coming with me.”

My skin broke into betraying bumps as excitement soared through me. “And where are you taking me?”

If I wasn’t mistaken, Cromwell blushed.

“Farraday, just get your shoes on and your arse out of this door.”

“I’m not dressed right.” My hand ran over my bun. “My hair’s a mess. I’m not wearing makeup.”

“You look good,” he said, and I stopped breathing. He must have seen. But he didn’t move his eyes off mine. “We’re losing time, Farraday. Let’s get going.”

I should have stayed. It wasn’t wise to let him do this. But, despite what I knew was right, what was fair, I couldn’t help it.

I had to go.

I sat down and pulled on my boots. Cromwell leaned against the doorframe, his arm stretched above his head. The black sweater clung to his arm muscles and the hem lifted, exposing a couple of inches of his tattooed stomach. My cheeks set on fire. I averted my eyes and concentrated on fastening the laces of my boots. But when I stood and saw the flicker of a smirk on his lips, I knew he’d seen me looking.

“Let’s go.” He walked out to the hallway. I let him lead the way outside and to a matte-black truck, a vintage Ford pickup.

“Is this yours?” I ran my hand over the paintwork. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

“You just get it?” He nodded. “It must have cost you a pretty penny,” I said as we pulled out of campus.

A dimple I hadn’t even known he had popped in his left cheek. I’d almost gotten a smile. Almost. “I do all right,” he said cryptically.

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