Page 77 of Jerk
My heart still pounds once I'm in Mac’s new Bugatti, Ember at the wheel. He must really love her if he lets her drive it. I’m just happy she’s here.
I hate the part of me that hopes he’ll chase me. Or the part of me that wants him banging on the car window.
I hate even more that a burn lingers on my nose when his car speeds away.
Ember’s hand comes on top of mine before she lowers the jazz on the radio. “You okay?”
That burn fills my chest, a blur coming to my eye. “No.”
TWENTY-SIX
HANNAH
Rule number one:Don’t touch Rye Rowen.
Rule number two:Don’t look at Rye Rowen.
Rule number three:Don’t even think about Rye Rowen.
Truth is, I already broke rule number three. Last nightandthis morning. And he’s not making it any easier.
Ryung: You’re not off the hook
Ryung: Not until I say
Ryung: I’m not done with you
Standing at the edge of the quad, my eyes scan the area. Students scatter across the green grass, the clouds over the domain I let slip from my hands.
“You gonna be alright?” Ember asks. “He’s not on campus today.”
Why does that make my stomach drop?
He might not be on campus, but he’s in my thoughts. He’s in my head. And I can’t stop thinking about him inside me. Two days, and I'm having more withdrawal than when Marisol swore off her mother’s benzos.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, straightening my outfit as I ignore the looks from students around me. I’ve opted for something more subtle today, a Chanel cardigan with matching trousers in grey. Calm. Collected. The details are all there, but they’re subtle.
Unfortunately, dressing down doesn’t stop the whispers.
“Is it true? Did she do it?”
“Doesn’t matter, she’s irrelevant.”
“You sure?” Ember asks. “I can skip my lecture and we can grab a couple of?—”
“I’ll be fine,” I repeat with a firm nod. “Promise. Thank you.”
Last night, I told her everything that's happened with Ryung. I thought she’d judge me. I thought she’d think I’m a total mess. Instead, she told me she understood, and we ordered pizza. Pizza! Ember’s loyal to Mac, but she still puts the posse to shame.
Ember nods. “Text me if you need anything?”
“Oh, Hannah.” Chloe approaches us, donning a black ensemble. Pleated skirt. White shirt. Argyle socks. “You’re back.” She pulls off those combat boots, but when my eyes land on that black beret, it’s hard to ignore the squeeze in my chest.
Her eyes move to my head, too, and that twisted look on her face makes my muscles tighten. My hand lifts, reaching for one of the six pink butterfly clips at the front of my hair. She looks at me like they’re pathetic before someone calls her name.
Krystal.
Marisol and Zurie sit next to her on the fountain as Krystal waves Chloe over, completely ignoring my presence.
