Page 24 of Toxic Hope
Rolling her eyes, she shifts her backpack over her shoulder. “What? Was I supposed to be too afraid of seeing you?”
“Should you even be here today after the way you were hurling last night?” She still doesn’t look good—pale and tired, the way she was at the house.
It won’t stop her from being a stubborn pain in the ass, though. “I’m fine. Thanks for your concern.”
“At least we know it wasn’t the lasagna,” I joke. The way she rolls her eyes tells me she doesn’t think it’s funny. “You didn’t really eat any of it, did you?”
“What are you getting at?” she mutters, eyeing the people walking past. Almost like she doesn’t want to be seen with me and hopes they don’t notice. “I think I had something for lunch that didn’t sit well on my stomach. Is that a crime?”
No, but she’s acting so guilty and defensive, and it makes me wonder. “What are you trying so hard to hide?”
Her mouth falls open before snapping shut. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Wait a minute. I’m serious,” I grit out when she tries to walk around me. Let her roll her eyes and stomp her foot all she wants. That’s not going to make me move. “It’s obvious there’s something you don’t want anybody to know. Not even your grandma.”
After a few slow blinks, she shakes her head. “What’s it like to live in your head? I can’t decide if it’s a horror movie or one of those brainless comedies that are only funny to stoners.”
“Yeah, sure. Be a smartass. Try to distract me. But it’s not going to work.” I slide my hands into my pockets, planting my feet in case she thinks she can push past me. “It’s obvious you’re full of shit with these visits to your grandpa. Who are you really going to the hospital for? Why doesn’t your grandma know about it?”
She slowly pulls her head back, then scrunches up her face. “You’re deluded. And it’s none of your business, anyway. Get out of my life.”
It’s a little too late for that.
“But speaking of my grandma,” she adds, dropping her voice to a growl, “you had no right following me home. It’s not bad enough you and your brother have made it your mission to mess with my life. You even broke my necklace. Why would you bring her into this? Are you completely insane?”
I don’t want to think about the necklace. About the way she howled like a hurt animal. “Oh, come on. It made her happy, thinking you actually had a friend.”
“You’re psychotic,” she hisses, almost spitting out every word. “Now get out of my way and get out of my life. Because as uncomfortable as you’ve made me,” she adds with narrowed eyes, “I can make it worse for you, and you know what I mean. So maybe give that some thought for the next time you have nothing better to do than stalk me.”
It’s like she touched a match to a powder keg inside my skull. It’s about to explode as we stand here, face-to-face, with people all around to witness the aftermath. Instead of giving them a show, I reach out and grab her by the elbow.
“What are you doing?” she whines, but she doesn’t put up a fight as I drag her into the closest empty room. A lab, dark now, quiet. She’s still sputtering and grunting when I close the door, then stand with my back to it so she can’t get out.
“Is this the game we’re playing now?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Like you said, I was just puking my guts up last night, and I’m still feeling tired. I don’t have it in me to deal with you right now, Preston.”
I wish it didn’t sound so good when she says my name.
“I just want to know one thing.” I wait for her to open her eyes before asking, “Who are you really visiting at the hospital?”
“This again? What is wrong with your brain? No, I’m serious.” She sighs. “You think I’m sneaking around, lying to my grandma? And even if I was, would it be any of your business at all? Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
There’s something about the way she says it that makes my breath catch. A throb of desperation. The thing is, she doesn’t know how hard I’ve tried. I want to leave her alone. I want to pretend she doesn’t exist. I wish I could go back to a time before I ever set eyes on her. Everything was less complicated.
“Who is it?” The longer she refuses to admit she’s lying, the more determined I am to pull the truth out of her. “All you have to do is tell the truth, and you can leave.”
“I am telling the truth.”
“That’s a lie. Or else why was that sweet grandma of yours so surprised when she heard you were visiting your grandpa? Do you think we’re that stupid?”
“Do you really want to hear the answer to that question?”
“Is it a boyfriend?” A flash of heat follows the question. Something bitter and dangerous that takes my blood from simmering to boiling. “Oh, is that what it’s all about? You don’t want to tell her you’re seeing somebody?”
“I can’t decide if you’re serious or not.” She tips her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Is that seriously where your brain goes? You think I’m secretly seeing someone she wouldn’t like, so I’m making up stories? Do you think you, like, got me into trouble?”
That’s when she makes the biggest mistake she could. That’s when she laughs. The sound grates against my raw nerves—here I am, almost drowning in white-hot jealousy when I imagine her sneaking off to see some douchebag. She has the nerve to laugh, because she keeps forgetting who she’s dealing with.
Obviously, I need to remind her. Nobody laughs at me.
