Page 70 of The Hate We Breathe
I tilt my chin up at him, startled. “You arenot.”
“Totally am,” he says, giving me a squeeze that’s more like a claim than comfort. He shoots Mads a small, easy smile. “That is, if you don’t mind Gio tagging along.”
Suspicion prickles sharp in my chest. “Why would Gio come on a girls’ shopping trip?”
Nolan doesn’t even blink. “To drive you.”
Mads opens her mouth, probably to argue about using her cousin’s car again, but Nolan shuts her down with a raised handand a look that makes it sound less like a suggestion and more like law. “Save it, Madison. Use the car for something else. Gio’s got you.”
And before either of us can say anything else, he spins me away and clamps both hands on my shoulders to keep me from ducking out of his hold or scampering away. “I’m borrowing my girl,” he announces over his shoulder, dismissing Mads with a casual wave. “She’ll catch you later. Bye, Madison.”
“Oh, uh, bye!” Mads’ confused farewell is nearly overwhelmed by the scorching heat burning up my face and the rapid pulse of my heartbeat in my ears.
I stumble to keep up as Nolan marches me down the hall. Glancing back, I see Mads blinking at us, wide-eyed and looking like a lost puppy.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss, digging my heels in.
“Don’t fight me, Jules.” His voice is low, dangerous. “Or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you.”
The scowl that finds my lips is as natural as breathing. “You wouldn’t.”
Nolan leans forward, his face coming up right alongside mine. His grin is sharp, predatory, all teeth. “Try me, Princess.”
My pulse stutters. I don’t even realize I’ve picked up my pace until his smirk deepens.
The two of us head through the main hall and out into the student parking lot as the bell rings for the final class. I guess we’re skipping today. At the back of the lot, as per usual, is G’s Firebird and Lex’s SUV. Most of the snow from the other day has melted, but there’s still a chill in the air. As we grow steadily closer to the vehicles, I draw my arms around myself, huddling into the hoodie I stole from Gio that morning.
“Where are we going?” I ask as Nolan pulls out a set of keys from his pocket and presses a button—unlocking the SUV. Iglance around, expecting the others, but it’s just us. “Where are the guys?”
“We’re going to meet up with Viks and Abel,” he says. “The guys are staying behind to let people know that neither of us was feeling very good and went home early.”
“Went home early?” I repeat his words with a scoff even as he leads me around to the passenger side and pops the door for me, holding it wide. “No one is going to believe that.”
“Whether they believe it or not isn’t the point,” he says.
I hop inside. “Then what is?”
“Plausible deniability and alibis.” He shuts the door behind me, before rounding the front hood and getting into the driver’s side.
Nolan cranks the engine and flips the heat dial all the way over. "Are you planning on breaking the law?” I arch a brow in his direction as he buckles up and then reverses out of the spot.
“Just setting things up in case we need to make a pit stop later tonight,” he replies.
Nolan doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push. Not when I expect that he’ll explain soon enough. The afternoon sun flickers across his face in sharp slices of gold and shadow as we leave the school parking lot behind. The ride is quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the occasional rattle of gravel when he takes a turn too sharp.
We drive for longer than I expect, until the passing neighborhoods become more familiar to me and I remember where Viks and Abel are staying. Several minutes later, Nolan turns into the driveway of the sprawling mansion with its pillars and empty windows. My stomach is in knots. I never did get a chance to thank Viks for helping out with Darrio at the club.
“Ready?” Nolan doesn’t wait for an answer before shutting off the engine and getting out. With a huff of breath, I follow,meeting him on the walkway. He reaches for me, holding out his hand, and I take it. His palm is warm against mine.
The front door opens as we draw near and a haggard-looking Abel in a tight black t-shirt and running pants steps into view. He crosses his arms over his chest and tsks at us. “Skipping school? I should send you back right now.”
I snort, but before either Nolan or I can say anything, a tennis shoe comes flying around the side of the front door and smacks right into the side of his head. Abel stumbles and then whirls back to the inside of the house.
“Damn it, woman! That hurt!” He rubs the back of his head, face scrunched in annoyance before he gestures for us to hurry up.
Wide-eyed and more than a little amused, I hustle it up the front steps and into the warm interior of the house. The showroom vibe has warmed a bit on the inside since the last time we were here.
The place is still pristine—neutral walls, white trim, flawless glass windows. The difference now is the scent of sugar in the air and the variety of items strewn about the open spaces from the coats in the living room to the computer set up in the dining room.
