of bobbing heads and bodies flowing into the high school.
“Zoe!” Chase’s voice came from behind me.
I turned and waited for him to catch up with me. He wore khakis and a blue and white oxford cloth, button-down shirt. His dark hair was neatly combed in place and his backpack hung on both of his shoulders evenly, not from one side like most teens carried them.
He smiled.“Hey.”
“Hey.”
We walked side-by-side. “So, Luke’s in a hurry. Krissy?” he asked.
“She seems to have a crush going on.”
His brows arched. I was relieved I didn’t see any disappointment on his face.
“What about you?” I asked. We ushered through the glass double doors and into the stale-smelling hall. “Things okay at home?”
“My parents think I’m guilty by association, so I’m grounded until school is over. Forget that I’m a senior, will be an adult in a few months and for all intents and purposes am the most responsible child in our family. Those facts don’t weigh in at all.”
“I’m sorry they’re being hard on ya.” I patted his shoulder and he shrugged, then his brown eyes shifted to my hand for a brief second. “I should have listened to you, Zoe.”
We held each other’s gazes and came to a stop outside his first period classroom. Students filed around us. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Yeah. What about you and Weston?”
“We’re talking again.”
A flash of disappointment colored his eyes, and a twinge of guilt pulled at my heart.
“Oh. Well, that’s good. That’s cool,” he said. “See ya in journalism.”
He went into a room and I headed to my class with a knot in my heart.
I walked in, and automatically my gaze shot to Britt’s empty desk. I hoped that wherever she was, she was okay and getting the help she needed.
I texted her.
u ok today?
I barely tuned into what the teacher was saying, my eyes glued to my phone screen, hidden in my lap.
No reply.
Chapter nine
____________________
When lunchtime came, the smell of garlic and tomato sauce wafted into the halls. I shut my locker door and closed my eyes. Please let everything be okay with Mom and Dad.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist and my back was suddenly flush with the familiar strength of Weston’s body. I relished being held, sharing a moment of human comfort that soothed my fizzing nerves.
I turned and wrapped around him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” His warm breath brushed my head.
I’m worried. Afraid. Hold me for a little while. “Nothing,” I murmured.
I wouldn’t be a whiner and unload the moment I saw him. What kind of greeting was that?
“Want to go get something to eat?”
I nodded. His arms cradled me as we walked, and I snuggled against him, enjoying that he was there for me. He wanted me. Cared about me.
Our cuddling garnered the curious stares of the social divas and jocks who passed us. Weston ignored the whispers. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge the jocks who walked by—some of whom had been his friends and teammates.
There was, of course, the occasional chick who glared at me with the how-could-you-stab-your-best-friend-in-the-back look. I didn’t care. I didn’t have anything to prove to them. That crowd always believed what they wanted to, anyway.
Outside, the noon sun hid behind thick March clouds. Snow-drenched grass peeked out from beneath the heavy white blanket covering and the walkways and asphalt showed stains of draining water. Weston opened the passenger side door and I climbed into his truck. The scent of his cologne, and the sun-warmed upholstery of the seats, soothed me. I checked my cell phone, just to make sure I hadn’t missed a text from Mom.
Nothing.
Weston got in, started the truck and something raucous boomed from his CD player. I stared out the window, too worried about Mom and Dad to care what was playing. The next thing I knew, the music was off.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“My mom and dad have been fighting a lot.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.
“Zoe!” Chase’s voice came from behind me.
I turned and waited for him to catch up with me. He wore khakis and a blue and white oxford cloth, button-down shirt. His dark hair was neatly combed in place and his backpack hung on both of his shoulders evenly, not from one side like most teens carried them.
He smiled.“Hey.”
“Hey.”
We walked side-by-side. “So, Luke’s in a hurry. Krissy?” he asked.
“She seems to have a crush going on.”
His brows arched. I was relieved I didn’t see any disappointment on his face.
“What about you?” I asked. We ushered through the glass double doors and into the stale-smelling hall. “Things okay at home?”
“My parents think I’m guilty by association, so I’m grounded until school is over. Forget that I’m a senior, will be an adult in a few months and for all intents and purposes am the most responsible child in our family. Those facts don’t weigh in at all.”
“I’m sorry they’re being hard on ya.” I patted his shoulder and he shrugged, then his brown eyes shifted to my hand for a brief second. “I should have listened to you, Zoe.”
We held each other’s gazes and came to a stop outside his first period classroom. Students filed around us. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Yeah. What about you and Weston?”
“We’re talking again.”
A flash of disappointment colored his eyes, and a twinge of guilt pulled at my heart.
“Oh. Well, that’s good. That’s cool,” he said. “See ya in journalism.”
He went into a room and I headed to my class with a knot in my heart.
I walked in, and automatically my gaze shot to Britt’s empty desk. I hoped that wherever she was, she was okay and getting the help she needed.
I texted her.
u ok today?
I barely tuned into what the teacher was saying, my eyes glued to my phone screen, hidden in my lap.
No reply.
Chapter nine
____________________
When lunchtime came, the smell of garlic and tomato sauce wafted into the halls. I shut my locker door and closed my eyes. Please let everything be okay with Mom and Dad.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist and my back was suddenly flush with the familiar strength of Weston’s body. I relished being held, sharing a moment of human comfort that soothed my fizzing nerves.
I turned and wrapped around him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” His warm breath brushed my head.
I’m worried. Afraid. Hold me for a little while. “Nothing,” I murmured.
I wouldn’t be a whiner and unload the moment I saw him. What kind of greeting was that?
“Want to go get something to eat?”
I nodded. His arms cradled me as we walked, and I snuggled against him, enjoying that he was there for me. He wanted me. Cared about me.
Our cuddling garnered the curious stares of the social divas and jocks who passed us. Weston ignored the whispers. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge the jocks who walked by—some of whom had been his friends and teammates.
There was, of course, the occasional chick who glared at me with the how-could-you-stab-your-best-friend-in-the-back look. I didn’t care. I didn’t have anything to prove to them. That crowd always believed what they wanted to, anyway.
Outside, the noon sun hid behind thick March clouds. Snow-drenched grass peeked out from beneath the heavy white blanket covering and the walkways and asphalt showed stains of draining water. Weston opened the passenger side door and I climbed into his truck. The scent of his cologne, and the sun-warmed upholstery of the seats, soothed me. I checked my cell phone, just to make sure I hadn’t missed a text from Mom.
Nothing.
Weston got in, started the truck and something raucous boomed from his CD player. I stared out the window, too worried about Mom and Dad to care what was playing. The next thing I knew, the music was off.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“My mom and dad have been fighting a lot.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.
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