Falling for the Ghost of You(75)

He called her?

Shit! I send a quick text to her, letting her know I'm okay and on my way home. I send Lauren the same text. She's texted me about a billion times, too. The rest are from Zane. I erase all his messages without even looking at them, then I turn my phone off.

I spend the rest of the ride looking out the window, not seeing anything, and trying desperately to not feel anything.

I don't know where to go once I'm back in Hidden Cove. Not home. God, no. Not Lauren's, either. I'm not ready to talk. Not yet.

I end up having the cab drop me off at the beach. It's the only place I can think of. I drop down into the sand, and just stare at the waves.

I'm there for a long time. When I come back to myself, the sun is setting over the water in a dazzling display of color.

I wipe my cheeks and discover they are cold and wet with tears. I need to go—or pee in the ocean.

Before I leave, I turn my phone on and call Lauren.

"V, where are you?! Are you okay?"

She sounds panicked. Did she talk to Zane?

I start crying again. "Lauren, can I come over. Zane—he—"

"He's here," she interrupts me. "He's been standing in the hallway for hours now. What happened, V? He looks destroyed."

"No!" I shake my head emphatically. "I can't...I don't want to see him!"

Lauren sighs. "You have to. He said he's not leaving until you talk to him---in person. If he stays, we'll get in trouble. You know how the manager is."

I let my head fall back in frustration, tears pooling in my eyes. "Okay," I say into the phone. "I'll—I guess I'll be there."

Damn Zane. I don't want to do this now. I'm not ready to face him.

Aiden Cross. This has got be some kind of dream.











Chapter 31



I walk to Lauren's from the beach. By the time I reach the complex, I'm exhausted—physically and emotionally. I'm sure I look horrible. My eyes are gritty from crying, and my hair is a windblown mess. I guess I don't really care.

I see him before he sees me. He's leaning against the wall directly across from Lauren's door, arms crossed over his chest.

Lauren said he looked destroyed, and I'm shocked to see she's right. Zane's face is pale, dark circles under his eyes. He looks as exhausted as I feel.

His head suddenly comes up at my cautious approach. His eyes seem to burn into mine. "Violet."

He reaches for me, but I flinch away.

"Don't touch me!"

I mean to snap, but my voice comes out high and panicked. I cringe away from him. He is not the guy I sat in the sand with and talked for hours and hours with. He's not the one I had the most incredible night of life with. He's a stranger—an incredibly famous…liar.

"You know," Zane says. His voice is quiet, emotionless.

I nod stiffly. "Good bye, Aiden."

I try to walk past him to Lauren's door, but he grabs me and cages me against the wall.

Leaning down to look me in the eye, he speaks urgently. "Violet, I am so damn sorry you found out like this. I was going to tell you—"

"It's okay," I interrupt, turning my head away. "You were using me—I get it. I should have realized. It's done, it’s over with, so just leave."

Zane exhales loudly in frustration. "No, that's not what this is about. You and me, it's—look, can we go somewhere and talk?"

"No!" I shake my head, suddenly furious. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

I’m too loud. Mrs. Jacobs’ door creaks open next to us. She peers out through the crack, concerned.

"You okay, Violet?" she calls.

Zane backs up an inch. I manage to force a smile on my face. "I'm fine, thank you. Sorry about the noise."

Mrs. Jacobs frowns, with a suspicious look for Zane. "Holler if you need me," she says before she shuts the door.

"Let's get out of here," he mutters, putting a hand on my waist.

I pull away. "I’m not going with you. I don't know you. I don’t know you!"

He glares down at me, frustrated. "You knew me really well last night, when you were screaming out my name."

I gasp, then I slap him—hard as I can. We are both stunned. My palm is stinging. I rub it gently against my pant leg.

His expression darkening, Zane nods slightly. "I deserved that. I’m sorry," he acknowledges grimly. Then he leans closer, his mouth brushing against my ear.

"I haven't changed. I'm still me. You do know me, the real me. I'm the same guy who found you stuck in a doorway, crying, with your pants split—the same one who was inside of you all night."

His voice is low and fierce. I tremble violently at his words and the memories they stir up.

"Please just let me go," I plead. The tears are falling faster and faster now. "Just stay away from me!"