“I can’t breathe,” I mumble.
Caleb stops beside me, squatting. “Hey.”
“I think I’m h-having a p-panic attack.”
He touches my back, rubbing small circles. It doesn’t help. Nice isn’t helping.
I’m gasping for air at this point. My heart is pounding out of my chest.
“Margo.” Caleb’s voice breaks through the fog. Barely. “Look at me.”
I can’t really see anything except for the ground between my knees.
He tugs my hand away from my head—when did I grab my head?—and pinches my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Breathe.”
A whole damn waterfall of grief and confusion is thundering down on me. It’s the realization that my nightmares have been real. Caleb will never be nice, or tell me the truth, unless I give him something in return. My parents are gone.
He lifts me suddenly, cradling me to his chest, and starts walking. I suck in short gasps as he rounds the house, setting me down on the hood of his car. And then he cups my face with both of his hands and presses his lips to mine.
I can’t respond—shock, the panic—until he bites my lower lip. The pain wakes me up.
I gasp against his mouth.
My horror falls away. The panic ebbs. I wrap myself around him, my legs around his hips, my hands on his biceps.
God, what kind of demon is he?
He pulls away, smirking at me. His hands are still on my face, gently holding my cheeks. It’s a nice act, except for the smirk—which seems to grow wider while my face heats.
He drops his hands from my face, and I release his biceps. We stare at each other for a second. He’s perfectly composed, the bastard. My lungs ache like I just ran a marathon.
He pats the bottom of my thighs, winking at me. “You want to stay here?”
Slowly, I lower my legs and slide off the hood of his car. “We’re going to be late.”
“So?”
I snort. “So, I was hoping to slip in undetected…”
He’s grins. It’s like he’s established that I’m okay—well, not on the verge of passing out, anyway—and we’re back to where we started.
“There’s no such thing as undetected when you’re with me.”
“Oh, come on.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You think people wouldn’t notice me walk in to one of the biggest games of the year?”
“Hold up,” I say, raising my hands. “Biggest game of the year?”
He unlocks his car. “Well, yeah. It’s against Lion’s Head. Our biggest rival… number one in the division… You don’t pay attention, do you?”
I huff. “I’ve been too busy being mocked and tripped at school for people to talk to me.”
“Eh. Well, everyone is going to be there.”
I swallow.
“Get in, love.”
Once we’re on our way to the school, I glance over at him. “Is Amelie going to kill me for walking in with you?”
His grip tightens on the wheel. “Are you jealous? You threw in my face that I was cheating on her with you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He lifts one shoulder. “Either you’re jealous or you’re not.”
I groan. “I just don’t want to be involved in your mess.”
He turns into the school parking lot, killing the engine in a spot right up front. It seems to have been left open just for him, because the rest of the parking lot is completely full. He twists toward me, meeting my gaze. “You want me to break up with her.”
“You haven’t?”
“Not yet.” He grins. “I had to get your thoughts on the matter.”
I shake my head. “She’s going to kill me for walking in with you. For even talking to you. You-you’ve been avoiding her for days! Why?”
He taps my temple with one finger. “I do love a good mind fuck.”
I climb out of the car, shaking my head. Amelie and I used to be friends, but now we’re the furthest thing from it. Hell, I’d go so far as to claim we’re enemies—if only because of Caleb Asher.
He stops in front of me. The football field is around the corner, just out of sight. Yet the smell of a food truck, the sound of hundreds of people, drifts toward us. “You want me to break up with her.”
No question.
I could probably say no—to ignore the jealous anger—and leave it at that.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you going to?”
“Let’s find out.”
18
“Caleb Asher, what the fuck?!”
I crane my head back as Amelie storms toward us. He’s had his arm around my shoulder for the last twenty minutes—about the time I started shivering in my coat.
We haven’t looked at each other in twenty minutes, either.
His fingers tighten on my shoulder, like he can sense I want to escape.
We survived until halftime. Granted, we showed up halfway into the first quarter, and the game’s been exciting enough to keep the crowd entertained. Meaning: they haven’t really noticed us yet. My plan of slipping in undetected has, so far, worked.
That’s about to end.
Caleb pivots us toward Amelie. I try to step back, and he gives me a stern look.
“What the hell, Caleb?” she yells, still yards away.
People turn toward us, and murmurs break out.
“Got a problem, Amelie?” he drawls.
He’s the freaking perfect picture of calm. His face betrays nothing, even if I can sense his excitement. He likes causing chaos.
Misery.
Where did the sweet boy I knew as a child go?
Keep asking yourself that, Margo. I have a feeling he’d no sooner answer that question than solve the rest of my puzzle. As much as I slide the pieces around, they just… don’t fit together.
This Caleb thrives on darkness. Maybe I didn’t realize it before, but I can see it like a rising tide inside him. He’s ready to shatter Amelie’s world. Thrilled for it.
“Do I have a problem?” she repeats. “Yes, I have a fucking problem.”
“You’re an attention-seeking slut.” He shrugs as her face turns red. “I should’ve realized you were only after my reputation.”
“How dare you? We’re dating, and you show up with her?”
“Gee, Amelie, maybe you should break up with me.” He steps forward, towing me with him.
Her gaze cuts to mine, but all I can do is stare at her. Helpless is my middle name.
“I’m not sure why you care so much. It isn’t like you haven’t been sleeping around with Ian Fletcher.” He releases me.
I stumble away from him. He’s focused on Amelie.
When he’s mad at me, he gets physical. His hands on my skin. His tongue in my mouth. Every inch of him was built to punish me. And for that reason, I can’t bear the idea of him touching her—even if it’s out of anger.
It takes a moment for his words to sink in. She’s been sleeping around on him.
I cover my mouth, holding back my laugh. Oh, the fucking irony.
Excluding the fact that Ian Fletcher is the worst human being in Rose Hill, I’m fairly certain that Caleb doesn’t give a fuck about who Amelie’s been sleeping with. Hell, besides the annoyance flashing across his face, she could drop dead at his feet and he wouldn’t even stoop down to check her pulse.