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No, I really can’t say no.
If I don’t put on a mask and act like I’m okay, I’ll lose everything.
If I don’t keep this fragile peace with Shane, I’ll hurt Juliette, and I would never do that. She’s my best friend. To add to that, I can’t betray her father’s faith in me. He has always trusted me to protect her. For them, I’d endure much, much worse than a few broken pieces in my heart.
As for Shane, he trusts me to help him build his business. In return he’s offering me a solid financial boost and an additional marketing venue for ACD. I’d be a fool to let my resentment for Shane or my feelings for Juliette, whatever they have become, get in the way.
A fool who will pay with his soul. No less, no more. If that’s what it will cost me to keep everyone happy and to keep the Davenports in my life, I’ll do it.
“All right!” I holler to Shane. “Let’s work!”
Track 7
A Trophy Date
Laurel
Two days after my shift at Hal’s shop, I’m still thinking about Blackmore. I do anything and everything to chase him out of my mind—play music, read my favorite books, swim in the pool, even help my parents with tedious paperwork, but questions fight for space in my head, some of which annoy the death out of me.
Is he single?
Is he even interested in girls?
Would he be interested in me?
What if he’s already in a relationship?
Could I have been wrong about him and the girl in the photo? He could be over her—
That kind of thinking is an utter waste of time, of course. The kind I can’t stop doing. Why? What’s so special about him that he’s been able to take over my mind like this?
After a small late-afternoon snack, I scroll through what feels like a million receipts from Dad’s latest trip. We have an accountant, but Mom insists it’s good for me to understand how budgets work. My parents are out of town today without a definite time frame for their return, and I’m losing my mind enough to resort to this, but the screen blurs and the numbers swim past my eyes. All I can think of is a handful of words.
That can’t be fun, choosing to go your own way and getting called a failure for it.
Blackmore sounded like he really meant that. Like he understood. I gaze out the window and fail to not smile like a smitten kitten. Get a grip, Laurel. Daydreaming of the first guy who talks to you in ages? Don’t be that easy. And he was trying to be nice because I’m the Little Fox. He doesn’t understand.
Outside, the day is frowning with heavy clouds. My favorite weather. No sun to singe my sunburn-prone skin. Perfect for a light jacket. The more clothes I can wear, the easier it is to disguise myself. Besides, with my parents gone, I can sneak away for a few hours and they will never know. Grinning, I push away from Mom’s desk, grab my phone, and run to the garage. I sneak around for completely different reasons than most adults. I don’t do it because my parents would lock me in. It’s the opposite. But I still need some time outside these walls. I’d lose my sanity for good if I didn’t venture out now and then.
“Where are we going?” Jonas calls out as I pass by his office.
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine by myself,” I declare. Killjoys are not allowed.
Jonas teleports to the hallway behind me. “You have your watch?”
I throw my wrist up high, showing him the smartwatch that transmits my coordinates and has a panic button. Even if Jonas stays behind, we contract with a security company that can respond within minutes of me pushing the button. I haven’t had to use it yet, but it’s the only way Jonas lets me outside without saying anything to my parents.
“I’ll just grab a drink and a book.” I rifle through the coat closet, searching for something with a hood. “It’ll be fine.”
That last addition is for me, not Jonas. I hate the media. I don’t have agoraphobia. I’m going out right now. Granted, no one in my family would count a jaunt to the bookstore as a real outing, but that’s on them. Yet even as I drive, my eyes dart to every pedestrian waiting by the traffic lights or lingering by the cars parked on the side of the road. Is that a camera I spy? No. Calm down, brain. Quit feeding the paranoia.
The closest bookstore is the one in the same shopping plaza with Guardian of Rock. It’s not my favorite, but it’s still good. And they have delicious mint chocolate chip shakes. Hiding my face in my long, wild hair and behind a pair of large sunglasses, I make myself read at least a dozen books’ back covers, slowly, without glancing in every direction every five seconds.
A metal tumbler or something similar falls to the floor in the coffee shop, and I jump. Breathe, Laurel. Breathe.I wipe the sweat from my upper lip with my sleeve. I have reached a new level of pathetic.
None of the books sound good. I order two shakes and walk to Hal’s shop. Might as well stop by and say hello. That’ll add another checkmark to my I’m-super-sociable list. A trip to the book shop? Check. Visiting my cousin? Also check. Two places in one day. Stop worrying about me, everyone. Not that I can tell my parents I’m doing this.
At almost seven in the evening on Monday, Guardian of Rock is empty. Even Hal isn’t managing the counter. Still, the shop is far from quiet. Laughter and guitar music pour from the back room. I freeze by the door, recognizing some voices. Hal and… Jace Blackmore.
