Page 103 of Belong With Me

“Skyscrapers aren’t much for talking.”

I can’t help but see that Aiden really does have a very nice back.

His muscles are noticeable under his tight, but not too tight, plain black T-shirt. We round a corner and I’m met by the curious gazes of some people still in the halls—they clearly have no desire to help me either.

Pain shoots through the left side of my chest. Shit. Running into the wall, followed by the very muscular Aiden hoisting me up, coupled with this uncomfortable position is not good. The pain spreads. I have to get down before I make things worse.

“Listen, bud. I’m sorry about what I said before,” I lie. “But kidnapping people is not the way to deal with your problems.”

He adjusts my body, causing a burst of pain in my ribs. Without even slowing his pace, he runs up a flight of stairs. Man, this guy is like the Energizer Bunny, not even tiring once. I’m having trouble breathing. “Please,” I gasp. “Put me down and we can talk this out.”

He ignores me and continues his unwavering stride.

“Can you just let me go gentl—”

Aiden abruptly stops moving and deposits me on the floor.

I look up at him, the wind knocked out of me. The left side of my ribs are on fire—yup, I hurt them again.

“Room 341,” he says, dropping my bag beside me and turning to leave the now-deserted hallway.

Dazed, I try to get up but pain shoots up my left side, forcing me back down to the floor. This isn’t going to end well. Determined not to lie on this gross floor a second longer, I try again, but the pain spreads through my chest. Sprawled on the floor, I’m incapable of moving. Damn it. Looks like this isn’t going to be my first day after all.

I’ve hurt my ribs three times now, which is less than ideal.

Reaching into my bag beside me, I fish around for my phone and pull it out. My mom ignores my first call. Typical. The second time she answers on the third ring. “Hello? Haile—I mean Amelia?”

“Hey. I think I hurt my ribs again. I’m going to drive myself to the hospital. I’m only letting you know so you don’t freak out and think the worst when the school calls saying I didn’t show up for class even though I was here today,” I say from my position on the floor.

She sighs as if she’s wondering how I managed to screw up on my first day of school. “How did that happen? You need to be more careful. He’s still out there and this isn’t ove—”

“I know. It doesn’t matter. I’m just letting you know.” Even talking hurts. “I’ll call you when I get the—” My voice cuts off when the pain becomes too much.

“Amelia? You can’t drive yourself.” I try to ignore the hint of annoyance creeping into her tone. “I’ll come pick you up from school—I’ll be there soon. In the meantime, try not to draw even more attention to yourself.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

Hanging up the phone, I shove it back into my bag. Staring up at the ceiling, I think of the most logical way of getting up.

“Okay, Amelia. You have three broken and two bruised ribs healing—you got through it the first time, you can do it again.” I psych myself up.

Bending my legs at the knees, I pull off my heels and shove them into my bag. Before I can change my mind, I quickly roll from my right side onto my stomach, careful to avoid making my left side touch anything.

With my arm through the strap of my shoulder bag so I can avoid having to bend down and get it later, I place my arms near my head in push-up position and use my knees at the same time.

Getting my feet underneath me, I stand up carefully and lean against the lockers.

“Great, you’re up. Now you have to find the damn exit from this maze-school,” I say to myself.

I’m trying to get my bearings when my eyes lock with a pair of familiar chocolate-brown ones. Shit. How long has he been here?

Aiden’s brown-haired friend who remembered my skyscraper line is standing beside an open locker, staring at me. The dirty blond-haired member of the walking trees is beside him, eyes wide and unblinking. Swallowing my pride and refusing to show weakness, I break my gaze and walk in the opposite direction.

“The exit’s the other way.” A hesitant voice calls from behind me—it’s the dirty blond.

Damn broken internal compass.

“How much did you see?” I ask as I make my way toward them.

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