Page 95 of Wanted You More

His fingers wrap around mine. “He found you when he and his partner were on the way to where the shooters were. They had SWAT coming in, but they were taking too long, and nobody wanted to see anyone else get hurt.”

Letting out a tiny breath, I flip my hand around so we’re palm to palm. “His partner got shot by one of the shooters. He took the last bullet they had.”

Noah nods. “That could have been my dad. If he didn’t stop to get you out of there, he could have been the one bleeding out. None of us talk about it, but I think about it from time to time. Especially when Dad gets on my nerves about something he doesn’t approve of. I can’t help but be grateful he’s still here to get on my nerves in the first place.”

I find it hard to believe his father wouldn’t approve of him. Noah does everything right. “What could your father possibly have to disapprove of? You’re like, the golden child.”

His eyes go to our hands, his thumb moving to brush my skin. “He disapproves of how I treat you.”

This time, I’m silent.

What could I say to that, that wouldn’t ruin the moment? I can feel it. The warmth settling between our hands. The way his finger brushes mine jumpstarts my heart. It’s like tiny sparks travel up my arm, and I can’t help but wonder if he feels them too.

His finger trails upward to the bracelet, where he spins it to examine each one of the charms he bought. “Which one is your favorite?”

How can I choose? “I don’t have one. I love them all.”Because you gave them to me.“I guess I like the heart sets because they remind me that I’m loved.”

His thumb ghosts over the charms in question. “The woman who sold me the bracelet told me my girlfriend was a lucky woman,” he says, keeping his focus down. He plucks one of the hearts. “All the while I stood there playing along because I didn’t want to tell her it was for someone else. When I came back for the new charm, it was the same woman who sold me the others. She said things must have been going well if I was back to add to the collection.”

I let out a tiny breath and ask, “What did you say to that?”

Pressing my lips together, I wait for him to look at me. When he does, it’s like his eyes see something far deeper than I can. “I told her I messed up and wanted to get something that would make you forgive me. A charm that meant something.”

The newest charm in question feels heavy dangling from the bracelet. “Why not tell her it wasn’t for Bailey? It’s not like it’d make a difference to her.”

He lets go of my bracelet and leans back in his seat, making me feel the weight of his absence. I force myself back too, trying to be casual as I wait for his response.

The last way I feel is that, when he finally admits, “Because I wanted to pretend it was like that. Just for a little while.”

I close my eyes, wishing he hadn’t said that. It brings up way too many emotions that I’ve been careful to keep stored away.

Eventually, I pick up my pen and focus back on my notebook. “We should get back to studying. If I don’t pass this quiz, Dad is going to freak out on me.”

Noah doesn’t fight me on it. He’s probably glad I didn’t want to press the issue for once. Or maybe neither of us has the energy to deal with the poor excuses making us not make the fantasy into a reality.

***

I send apicture of my graded quiz to Dad and Noah to show off the 90 circled on the top in bright red. It gives me hope that I can pull through Kamala’s class without embarrassing myself or my father.

Grinning as I unlock the door to my dorm room, I step in to see Kennedy curled up on her bed. There’s some serious emo music playing from her laptop across the room, which makes me question what she’s going through.

I throw my backpack onto my unmade bed and then show her my quiz. “Look! I passed my first quiz. Turns out studying isn’t so bad, especially when I have eye candy helping me.”

My grin drops when she doesn’t celebrate with me. She knows I’ve been stressed about it since Kamala told us we were going to be quizzed every week.

I plop down on the end of her bed. “Do you want to celebrate with me? We can binge watch that new serial killer documentary and eat junk food from the vending machine again.”

Since I couldn’t find a job, I’ve relied on the allowance Dad sends me. And the vending machines have seen a lot of that money.

She grabs her favorite fluffy decorative pillow and hugs it to her chest. “I can’t. I don’t feel good.”

“Period?” I guess. “I’ve got some ibuprofen in my bag and I’m pretty sure a girl down the hall smuggled in a heating pad. Half the girls in the building already have synced periods, so she was talking to a few of them in the bathroom about cramping. They seriously need to install a tampon machine in there.”

Kennedy buries her face in her pillow. “It isn’t my period.”

I rub her back. “What’s going on? I’ve never heard you listen to anything other than Taylor Swift, so I’m a little scared right now.”

Her voice is muffled through the pillow, but I still hear her perfectly when she says, “Lincoln broke up with me.”

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