Page 63 of Withered

“Are you okay?” He asks, glancing into my eyes, and I nod.

He doesn’t let go of my hand, and he walks me to his car. His palm is so warm that the heat sweeps through me, clouding my thoughts.

He drops my hand to open the door for me, and I immediately miss the warmth. I don’t do anything but watch him.

He tilts his head and gestures for me to get in, but I blankly stare at him.

“I just told you, I can go by myself,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes.

“I am not in the mood for a fight. Just get in the car.”

Neither am I. I frown at him and enter quietly.

He shuts the door and climbs into the driver’s seat. I should ignore him, but here I am, sitting in his car, following his order.What is wrong with me?

A grunt leaves my mouth, and he chuckles as if he won. Well, he did succeed in getting me inside the car.

In two minutes, we're back at my place. I mumble a quick thanks and exit the moment he turns off the engine. But he is quick because he stands in front of me as I walk out. I walk around him and towards the door.

“Rose,” he calls.

“What?” I ask, turning around.

“You are forgetting something,” he speaks, leaning against his car, and god, why does he have to look like a freaking model with his legs stretched, arms folded, and his biceps?

“I’m not,” I state.

He smirks, meaning I got caught checking him out.

He takes something from his pocket. I check my pockets and my wallet and ask, “How did you get my phone?”

I walk to him and say, “Give it back.”

He stands up straight, waving my phone in front of my face. He holds it out to me, but before I take it, he raises it far above me. I try to jump but fail.

I had a feeling he’d do it, so I do the first thing that comes to mind. I step on his foot. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. As he yells, groans, and bends, I quickly grab my phone.

“What the fuck?” He shouts.Oh no.

He starts walking towards me, and I slowly back away. “It’s all your fault. You should have given it, and I wouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh yeah?” He scoffs.

“Y-yes. You never listen,” I say.

“And you do? You just get mad and leave, and I don’t get to fucking speak,” he yells.

His green eyes turn a shade darker. I should be scared, but I am more focused on his eyes; they look so scenic, like when the forest goes a shade darker after rain.

His words snap me out, and I retort, “Then stop calling me names.” This conversation is over.

I turn around and walk back to the door. He doesn’t stop me this time, and I don’t glance back.

When I go to the door, I turn the knob, but it’s locked. I look through my wallet for the spare key and search under the flower pot, where Mom sometimes keeps it, but it’s not there. I’m trapped outside my own house.

I turn around to find Jake gone. I go into the garden and sit on the grass. I call my mom to find out about her whereabouts, but the call goes to voicemail, so I leave a message asking her to call me back when she gets it.

After a minute, my phone pings with a message fromJake.

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