“Stay in my—” I bristle at what he’s implying. “Are you saying I’m responsible for what happened tonight?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not. They should both have better control.”
It’s a weird way of saying they shouldn’t go around trying to murder people, and I start to ask him about it. But he continues before I can figure out how to phrase it. “But I warned you before that you need to be careful here. This isn’t like your old high school.”
“How do you know what my old high school was like?”
“I don’t,” he says with a smirk. “But I can guarantee it’s nothing like Katmere Academy.”
Jaxon’s right—of course he’s right—but I’m not about to back down now. “You don’t know that.”
He leans forward then, as if he can’t help himself, until his face, and his lips, are barely an inch from mine. And just like earlier, I know it should make me uncomfortable. But it doesn’t. It just makes me burn. And this time, when my knees shake, it has nothing to do with fear.
My lips part, my breath hitches in my chest, my heart beats faster. He feels it—I can see it in his blown-out pupils, in the way he goes wary and watchful. Can hear it in the sudden harshness of his own breath, sense it in the slight tremble of his body against my own. For a second, just a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then he leans in farther, past my mouth, until his lips are all but pressed up against my ear. And I get the strange sense that he’s smelling me just like Marc and Quinn had, although it has an entirely different effect on me.
“You have no idea what I know,” he says softly.
The warmth of his breath has me gasping, melting, my whole body sagging against his of its own volition.
He lets it happen for one second, two, his hands on my waist, his shoulders curving down and into me. And then, just as suddenly, he’s gone, stepping back so fast, I nearly fall without the support of his body.
“You need to go,” he repeats, voice even lower, rougher than before.
“Now?” I demand, incredulous.
“Right now.” He nods to the staircase, and somehow I find myself moving toward it, though I never make a conscious decision to do so. “Go straight to your room and lock the door.”
“I thought you said I don’t have to worry about Marc or Quinn anymore?” I ask over my shoulder.
“You don’t.”
“Well then, why do I need to—？” I break off when I realize that I’m talking to myself. Because again, Jaxon is gone.
And I’m left wondering when I’ll see him again. And why it matters so much that I do.
8
Live
and Let Die
Not going to lie. I’m a little shell-shocked when I finally make it back to my room. It’s nearly five a.m., and the last thing I want to do is crawl back into bed and stare at the ceiling until Macy wakes up. But it’s not like I feel safe wandering the school anymore, either, considering I could be dead by now if Jaxon hadn’t shown up when he did.
And since the last thing I can do—and the last thing I want to do—is count on him to save me if I end up in another bizarre situation like that, I think my best bet is to hang in my room until Macy wakes up and I can get her opinion on what just happened. Although, if her opinion is anything other than OMG, WTF?!?! I’m taking my unpacked suitcases and heading back to San Diego. Freeloading off Heather’s family for the next eight months is better than dying. Or at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Especially since I don’t get altitude sickness in San Diego.
The nausea hits me as I’m tiptoeing across the room, and I barely make it back to my bed with a soft groan.
Macy must have heard me because she tells me, “I promise the altitude sickness won’t last forever.”
“It’s not just the altitude sickness. It’s everything.”
“I bet,” is all she says, and silence stretches between us. I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s giving me the space to sort through my thoughts and decide if I want to share any.
I stare at the gray stone ceiling above my bed pressing down on me, then take a deep breath. “It’s just… Alaska’s like a foreign planet, you know? Like everything about this place is so different than home that it’s hard to get used to it.” Normally I don’t dump my stuff on people I don’t know really well—it’s easier to just keep everything inside—but Macy is the closest friend I have here. And there’s a part of me that feels like I’ll explode if I don’t talk to someone.