Page 95 of College-Virgin & Dark Bully Next-Door

“So you … you knew?”

“I suspected.” She gives a soft smile and hugs me. “I just wanted you to tell me.”

Oh. I blink a few times and hug her. “Thank you.”

“I’m happy for you. And for her. I think she’s had a crush on you since she was a kid. Don’t you remember how she always wanted to share her toys with you? How she followed you around and would cry until you’d make up stories to tell her?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you were only eight.” She shrugs. “Be good to her.”

I swallow hard and thank her again as she gets her keys. I still call Sky. “Any luck?”

“No.” The panic is in her voice, which means she’s feeling twice whatever she’s showing. “Chase said I should stay at home and keep an eye out for him. I can’t just sit here.”

“Okay, you should look through old photos. Maybe things with your mom? If she’s on his mind.”

“You’re so fucking smart,” she gasps. “Remind me to blow you later.”

“Very funny.”

“Totally serious,” she insists. “I’ll look for stuff and … oh. Chase is calling. Gotta go.”

I don’t hear anything for a while, and Mom comes back, looking … bothered. She pats my shoulder and glides to the kitchen to grab a beer. I’ve never seen her drink one. She takes a slow breath and looks out the window towards the Bennett driveway.

I see Chase walking his Dad in and Sky holding the door. Something tells me she’s going to have her hands full plus some. Mom slides me a beer, and we drink together, saying nothing at all. Then we get started on dinner.

She’s a stickler for routine. My eyes keep going to the Bennett house, and after the fifth time, Mom actually turns my face back to the food. “Don’t lose a finger, and don’t give yourself away.”

That’s enough to keep me in check for the night, even though I can’t stop myself from checking my phone. I don’t know why I’m worrying so much. It’s not like Sky can’t take care of herself. It’s not like she hasn’t proven it over and over again.

But I’m still worried.

And it keeps me from sleeping well. I take a few drinks of a travel sized-whiskey I have and wait for Sky to appear in her room. She doesn’t. Or she’s already gone to sleep. I don’t know what to do with myself.

I text her and remind her I’m here if she needs me, no matter what that means, then let the whiskey work its magic and put me to sleep.

I get up and see a heart emoji in reply to my text. Groaning, I pry out of bed and go to the gym. I have to make up for yesterday. I go through the motions, but my heart isn’t in it, and it’s obvious. Am I really this easy to rile? Is it this simple to get into my head and rile me up?

“You need to keep your head where it belongs.” Frank swats the back of my head. “You hear me, Warren? Where are you?”

“The gym.”

“Then act like it. The grand finale is just around the corner.”

So I block everything out, everything I can’t fix, and take out my frustration on whatever’s put in front of me. By the time we’re done, I’m jelly but still buzzing with excitement. Not even a cold shower can calm me down. I want to do something; I want to power through something the same way I just powered through the workout.

But when I get home, my phone is still silent.

Groaning, I pace in my room.Space, give her space, Ash. Don’t push.

“Don’t do it,” I tell myself again when I go for my phone.

After a few more slow breaths, I convince myself not to text her. I convince myself not to go out and drink. I convince myself to try to do anythingbutleave. Not because she might need me but because I’m afraid I’ll end up at her place if I step out of the house.

Finally, after what feels like hours of restraint, of playing stupid games on my phone, of getting distracted while trying to play video games, I get a single text from her.

This is so fucked.

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