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VERA
Maddie might’ve gotten into my head. Just a bit.
I paced around my living room on Saturday morning and gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Nerves zipped up and down my arms, my stomach in tight knots. She had convinced me to message Blaise last night, but I still hadn’t gotten a response.
At the skatepark the other night, I had freaked out more than I should’ve. But I didn’t want to get hurt, especially not after I’d found Blaise and Skylar in the janitor’s closet again. I didn’t want to be stupid and blind, like some of the girls in books were when they let the hero take advantage of them every step of the way.
I wanted to be strong. I wanted to … to not be so insecure all the time.
“I’ll be back later,” I shouted to Mateo, who fumbled through his closet, looking for something to impress the girls he had invited over to his party tomorrow afternoon. “If you need me, call me!”
Mateo looked out of his bedroom and wiggled his brows. “Gonna go see your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, pulling on a scarf and zippering my jacket.
After smirking wickedly at me, Mateo disappeared back into his bedroom. I rolled my eyes and stuffed my hands into my coat, knowing that I would have a long walk for maybe even nothing. Blaise might not actually be skateboarding today.
So, I retraced my steps to the skatepark in hopes that he’d be there. Maybe he’d be at a fancy brunch with his mother and father and their snotty, rich friends. But maybe … I’d get to see him on his board today. Though I didn’t know the first thing that I’d say to him if he was there.
Once I trekked for thirty minutes through the cold, the skatepark came into view. To shield my cheeks from the searing wind, I put my head down and power-walked to the entrance of the busy place.
At least ten percent of Redwood Academy must’ve been at the skatepark today. I walked on the edge of the park, dodging groups of people skateboarding inches from me. They did tricks on bars and rode down steep slopes, riding a lot faster than I had.
I stared in awe, secretly hoping that Blaise was here. I didn’t want to have walked down here for nothing, and I had nobody else to hang out with. No way would I stay home all day as Mateo asked for my advice on the hundreds of bad outfits he’d put together for tomorrow.
When I found a bench, I sat my ass down and hoped that nobody would crash into me. From my seat, I scanned the parking lot and spotted Blaise’s blue Ferrari F8 among the shittier cars from the slums.
I inhaled excitedly, my chest warm and light.He’s here.
Glancing around at the people zooming by, I spotted Blaise sitting on a bench across the park. With a pair of headphones on, he had his board in his lap and another longer board propped up on the bench next to him.
My stomach turned, my insecurities rushing through me. Who did that board belong to? Was he here with someone else? Was that why he wasn’t answering any of my messages? Maybe he really had been joking about liking me. Maybe he was with Skylar.
A girl with dyed red and black hair—someone who must’ve been a sophomore at Redwood—walked over to him. She had the typical E-girl look with a perfect nose, freckles that lightly decorated her face, and flawless mascara.
Mouth drying, I stared at them and couldn’t seem to look away. I clutched my purse to my body and wondered why I had come here again.
What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck possessed me to walk thirty minutes in the cold for this?
Blaise had made it clear that the feelings he’d admitted for me were a joke.
Nothing more.
Why’d I think coming here, seeing him and talking to him, would make a difference to either of us?
He wanted to get into my pants. Hell, he was blackmailing me—blackmailing me!—and somehow, I’d thought he felt differently.
Just when I was about to stand, Blaise nodded to the girl and moved his longer board off the bench, so she could sit next to him. She retied her shoelaces and gazed out into what Blaise had called the bowl.
Another guy rode up to her and stopped, leaning down to kiss her. Blaise looked over at them once, then hopped up from the bench and set his phone down against his longboard, holding it upright, as if he was recording something.
The knots in my stomach uncoiled. I forced myself to take a steady breath and to stay, unlike the natural urge I’d had inside me to run far away from here and from Blaise. I didn’t—I shouldn’t—trust him.
But I didn’t want to run away.
Not yet.
That was what girls in books did. They assumed. They overreacted. They hurt the ones they loved to protect themselves. And while I wanted to be different—so badly—I knew how they felt. I knew how much it hurt to feel like shit and how much strength it took to find my confidence.
