Page 12 of Make Them Cry

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“You don’t evenlikemen with jawlines.”

“I do when they smirk like sin and write sexy commit messages.”

I hate that I know exactly what she means.

I stare into my mug and pretend to be fascinated by the tiny flecks of tea swirling at the bottom. “He’s not my type,” I lie, remembering my no dating anyone I work with rule.

“No? Your type isn’t tall, broody, and weirdly obsessed with passwords?”

My cheeks warm. “You’re projecting.”

“I’m investigating.” She pokes me. “So you wouldn’t care if I asked him out?”

“Of course not.”

I say it too fast. Too sharp. Too fake.

She doesn’t call me on it. Just raises an eyebrow, nods slowly, then gets up to grab a blanket.

“Guest sheets are clean. You can take the pullout or the floor. I’m not picky.”

“Pullout’s fine,” I say. “Thanks, Tash.”

She pauses at the hallway. “Seriously though. If something’s wrong… really wrong? You’d tell me, right?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

Another lie.

When she disappears into her room, I curl up on the pullout couch and stare at the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles above me. My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I don’t check it.

I already know who it is.

Mask.

I should be freaked out. Should be calling someone. Should bedoingsomething other than lying here and thinking about how Gage looked earlier this morning with his stupid half-grin andhis unfairly good hair and the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

I hate how I feel.

Not just the fear.

Thewant.

I bury my face in the pillow and let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a laugh.

I’m being hunted by internet psychos, protected by a faceless stranger, and possibly crushing on the one man I swore to hate forever.

Perfect.

Tomorrow, I’ll go back to pretending I don’t care.

Tonight?

I fall asleep wondering what Gage Dawson would sound like if he whispered my name in the dark.

FOUR

GAGE

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