Page 34 of Her Second Chance

My eyes widen at his audacity. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you were my girlfriend. Maybe we’re better off as friends.” He sounds like a petulant child, making me even more confident in my decision to stop things before they progress further.

“Don’t be like that. We’re moving too fast. This doesn’t feel right.” Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, but I just want to get out of here without a fight. Surely, he feels how disjointed our connection seems right now.

“You should go.” He steps into his jeans and stands, jerking them up. His boxer covered erection looks absurd poking out from the open zipper. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d laugh. “I’m not down for waiting longer. Prick teases aren’t my thing, honey.”

What the fuck? That condescending jerk. “Are you serious right now?”

“I have shit to do, Hannah. I can’t hang around, playing rub and tug all night, every night.”

I jerk my head back. In an attempt to keep from saying something I’ll regret, I dress in silence. Thirty-one-year-old me wants to kick ass and take names, but eighteen-year-old me is busy trying not to cry. Both versions of me are sensitive, they just react in opposite ways.

If this was a test, I’ve failed miserably. My hopes of returning to my actual life with my shit in order are draining from me with each passing second. I’m stuck in my past with zero hopes for my future. With each passing day, my real life feels further and further away. I want to go home. No, I need to, even if it means saying goodbye to Brock.

I don’t belong here.

When I’m dressed and calm, I walk to the door. I turn around and see Jason looking out the window.

I swallow hard. “Are we going to be okay? I mean, can we be friends?”

He stiffens, turning slowly to face me. “I don’t know. My crystal ball is cracked.”

His and mine both.

Chapter 15

Hannah

Expecting my dorm room to be empty when I get home, I almost jump out of my skin when I open it and come face-to-face with Grace. I let out a long breath while clutching my hand to my chest. “Oh, my god! You scared the crap out of me.”

She laughs. “Admit it. You peed your pants a little.”

“I will admit no such thing,” I say, trying to sound indignant before dissolving into giggles. “I missed you,” I tell her when we finally catch our breath.

She pulls me into a hug. “Oh, Hannah. I don’t know what sort of hellscape you were living in when you were in the future, but there’s no world that exists where you and I aren’t best friends. I promise you that. Even if I move away to Paris, you’ll still be my number one.”

Her words have such conviction behind them I believe her. More and more, I’m doubting my memories of my ‘future’ are accurate. “I think I lost sight of who I was,” I admit. “Or maybe I’m losing sight now. I don’t know.” I plop onto my bed, lying back. “It’s like my mind is all jumbled, and I’m missing something important.”

She mulls over my admission for a beat. “Maybe that’s why you’re still here,” she suggests.

I sit up onto my elbows. “Maybe.”

She waves her hand like she’s swatting a fly. “What are you doing home? I thought you had a date with Sir Loserton.” Her ‘just smelled a fart’ expression tells me exactly what she thinks about that idea.

I swat at her. “Don’t call him that.” Although, right now, the name seems fitting. Making an enemy is not what second chances are for, so even though I don’t want to wind up with him, I have zero desire for us to be at odds. My goal now is to make peace with everyone so I can finally go home.

“I know you’re convinced you traveled back in time for him, but what if you’re wrong?”

What if I am? “Honestly?”

She nods, waiting for me to think about what that would mean.

I sigh. “I’m scared to admit how I feel. What if that sends me back to the future, and I lose everything I’ve gained since coming back here? I feel like I’m further away than ever from something or someone important. I just don’t know who or what that is, and it’s driving me to madness.” Before this second chance, I never would have described myself as fearful or wishy-washy, but that’s exactly how I’ve behaved since I woke up here. “There’s a gaping hole in my mind, and I know whatever I’m missing is important.”

“What do you think it could be? Or rather who?” She gives me a pointed look, and I know exactly what she’s thinking without her having to say it.

“I’m not talking about Brock.” Except that’s a lie.

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