Page 21 of Madness of Two


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Like a savior, Jen waves us down. “Hey!” She jogs over to us, her face alight with knowing. “It took forever to find you guys. Been having fun without me?” she playfully teases, glancing at the penguin and the bag of cotton candy at my feet.

I grab her arm. “Girl talk. Could you give us a moment, Blake?” He nods as I drag Jen over to the side of the booth. “I’m ready to leave this damn place.”

She tilts her head, confusion etched in her expression. “What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing. It’s just …” I grip the stuffed animal hard enough to pop out the stuffing. I feel rattled, like the world is spinning and closing in on me. “It’s overwhelming being here, okay? So, let’s just go.”

Her face softens. “It’s not Blake, is it?”

“No, it’s not him. He’s helped me out, kept me company. He’s … nice.”

“You mean cute,” she corrects. “And sweet, too. Even I can see the way you look at him, Mia. If you want a ride home, why don’t you ask him?” She winks. I scoff, and she giggles at my reaction. “Come on, it’s not the end of the world. The worst he can say is no.”

I exhale a stream of air. “Okay, fine. But don’t make this an awkward situation for me, alright?”

“No promises,” she jokes. I give her a pointed look, and she holds up her hands in defense. “I’ll stay out of it. Go talk to the guy already.”

Nervous butterflies swirl in my stomach as I make my way back toward Blake. He looks up from chatting with the balloon dart attendant, and I fight the urge to run in the opposite direction when he smiles at me, his dimples prominent.

“Something the matter?” he asks.

“Actually … Would you mind giving me a ride home? Jen wants to stay longer. I don’t want to be a burden?—”

“I think I can manage that.” He grins wide enough for his eyes to crinkle; my stomach leaps. “And you’re not a burden, remember? Let’s go.”

“I’ll give you some funnel cake at work tomorrow!” Jen calls out, waving as we depart. “Have fun!”

We leave the fair together, talking and laughing as we exit the fairgrounds and head into the parking lot. There’s a comfortable familiarity between us I’ve never felt with any other person. He guides me to his car and opens the door for me, then puts his stuff in the backseat.

Sliding into the driver’s side, he starts the engine and turns on the radio. Soft rock music fills the car as we pull away from the fair. I look up at the night. It’s a deep navy with infinite, glittering stars. Part of me can’t help but feel like this is all too perfect.

We continue talking during the ride—about little things like our favorite books and movies, what our days at work are like. Nothing overly deep, but the conversation is easy. Natural.

We finally arrive at the apartment complex, and he pulls into the lot, cutting the engine. We sit in silence, neither of us moving, both seemingly reluctant to end the evening. His lips curl into a tender smile as he looks at me—and before I can say anything, he leans in and presses those same lips to mine.

My heart stops, and I’m too stunned to respond. The kiss is warm and gentle. He lingers another moment longer before pulling away, his eyes locking on mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. But then his demeanor hastily shifts, his gaze darting to the windshield.

“I had a great evening tonight,” he says, chuckling.

“Yeah, uh … same.” I clutch the stuffed penguin in my lap, twitching my leg. “Thank you for giving me a ride. I gotta go get some shut-eye. Work, you know. All that. Goodnight, Blake.” I scoop up the bag of cotton candy and rush out of the vehicle before he can say anything else.

Without looking back, I race to the building, admonishing myself for getting too close to someone again. Because what happens to all my boyfriends?

They end up fucking dead, that’s what.

Briar was a dick, but did he deserve to die, thrown away in a dumpster and ending up in a landfill? And Chris, arguably a total douchebag, did he deserve to be mutilated, cut up, and have his windpipe crushed by a barbell?

The last thing I want to do is put Blake in danger.

As I ascend the stairs, my intuition rings in my ears like a deafening drumbeat—when I notice that my apartment door is open. Carefully, I approach with light steps, realizing that someone has forced the door open. I press onward, steeling myself, and reach a hand into the dark apartment to flip on the light switch.

A chill sweeps through me. Books, movies, albums, and even silverware are strewn about. Among the overturned tables and scattered papers, I notice my torn-out journal pages. And in the center of the chaos, a single rose with a note attached to the stem catches my eye.

My fingers tremble as I pick it up to read it:

If I can’t have you, no one can.

Chapter

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