Page 33 of Riding Jamie

It’s an awkward change of subject, but the air between us is so heavy with a million unspoken things, and I suddenly desperately need to know how long I have left with her. Even if her leaving this time won’t mean the same thing, I just…need to know.

“I, uh.” She cuts herself off, laughing weakly as I turn into the parking lot. “I don’t think I’m going back.”

I damn near crash the car pulling into a parking spot. I only barely remember to stomp on the brakes through my shock, my head whipping to the side so I can stare at her, eyes wide.

“What do—what?”

She lets out a nervous chuckle, glancing around the parking lot, and I realize there are cars behind us, waiting for me to shake off my stupor and get out of the way. I pull into an empty spot, trying to make my brain work again.

“I’m staying here,” she says. “I’m transferring to the state university with Phoebe. I want to stay here. I…I want to stay with you, Jamie.”

The look she gives me is hesitant and hopeful, and I won’t deny that a part of me is rejoicing. Mostly, I just feel guilty. I can’t let her throw everything out for me.

“You can’t do that, Oakley,” I stammer out. “It’s not like I want you togo, but you can’t just stay here.”

Her gaze shifts from excited to entirely unimpressed, and she unbuckles her seatbelt without a word. She steps out of the car as I scramble to explain myself, but she pays no attention to the words falling frantically from my lips. I rush to turn the car off and unbuckle my own seatbelt, but before I have the chance to spring out to chase after her, my door opens.

Oakley is standing there, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated, and she holds her hand out to me expectantly. I hesitate before taking it and allowing her to help me out of the car. My leg twinges in protest at the movement, but I power through the discomfort.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Her voice is firm, but affectionate, and she leans up to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “I know you think I’m too good for anything but Harvard, but I’m going to be happier here than I was in New York. My mind is made up, Jamie.”

I know that arguing will only upset her, but I can’t help myself. It’s a waste of her potential, and she’s got too much going for her to throw it away just to be here with me. I open my mouth to disagree, but before I get a proper chance, an insufferably nasally voice interrupts us.

“Oakley Montgomery!” Savannah crows, all fake sugar and disdain. “Didn’t expect to see you back here. What, New York not good enough for the perfect little princess?”

Oakley turns slowly, blinking in outraged surprise, but the frigid smile on her face doesn’t waver for a second. Her hand is squeezing mine so hard it hurts. I can see the tension in her shoulders. Her voice is bitter and caustic in a way I’ve never heard before.

“Savannah,” she says drily. “I came back for the holidays. People usually spend them with their families and people they love.”

She leans back against my chest pointedly with that statement, and I feel affection well in my heart. I wrap my good arm around her waist, glaring disgustedly at Savannah.

Savannah’s face flames with embarrassment, but it’s replaced by a nasty smile seconds later.

“You two are back together? That’s so cute,” she drawls sarcastically. “Jamie, you’ll call me when she dumps you after the holidays, right?”

Oakley and I stiffen with rage together, and her nails dig into my arm possessively.

“You wretched littlebi?—”

“Oakley, baby,” I cut her off, holding her tight against me as she struggles to go after Savannah. “She’s not worth it. Ignore her.”

“Get lost,” Oakley spits. “Looking at you is ruining my appetite.”

Savannah rolls her eyes and storms off, raising her middle finger at us as she retreats.

We both stand there, frustrated and raw at such a blatant reminder of the night we lost each other. I almost expect Oakley to ask me to take her back home, and I’m trying to think of ways to convince her that we can make things work. She just grabs my hand and steps toward the front door of the diner, glancing back with a relieved smile.

“C’mon, I worked up an appetite dealing with all this bullshit,” she says.

I laugh, following behind her obediently. She walks slowly, careful not to stress my injuries, and I’m filled with so much affection that I can’t help stopping her before we step inside. She looks back at me, but doesn’t have a chance to say anything before I wrap my hand around the back of her neck. I pull her forward and lean down to take her lips in a kiss.

She smells like my sheets and she’s so soft against me. I smile into the kiss, and she meets it with her own grin.

“You know,” I murmur against her lips, “it’s kind of a turn on to see you get all worked up like that over me.”

She snorts out a laugh, tapping her hand in a playfit hit against my uninjured shoulder.

“Shut up,” she says with a chuckle. “Stop getting in the way of me and my waffles.”

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