The Force of Gravity(44)

His eyes twinkle. “What. You don’t think I’m worth the wait?”

It takes me several seconds to speak. “Um . . . most definitely.”

He winks and gives me a light kiss before stepping back, and I drink in his massive upper body.

I hold out his shirt. “Are you sure you want me to take this?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Only if you want it.”

I grin and drop it in my lap.

His lips curve into a half-smile. “Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

“I will.”

He closes my door, then opens the garage for me. He sends me a wave as I back out of the driveway, and I etch the vision of his sculpted torso into my mind.

As I turn onto the street, I lift his shirt to my face and inhale my favorite scent, sending my entire body into a near-hypnotic state. No one else could’ve relieved my pain tonight, and I’m so thankful he’s in my life now.

I’ve always judged girls who completely lose themselves in a relationship, but he’s the only thing holding me together, and I feel myself falling fast. And even though my brain is screaming at me to slow down, my heart and body want to charge ahead at full speed. I know I should be careful, but I’m already in way over my head. He has the power to completely shatter my heart into a million tiny fragments. . . . But if someone is going to break my heart, I’d rather it be Elijah Slate than anyone else. He’s worth the risk, and I can only hope he feels the same about me.

I pull into the driveway and shove his shirt into my purse. The front door swings open just before I slide my key into the deadbolt. My dad fills the doorway, and even under the dim porch light, I can see his neck vein straining against his skin.

“Emily called.”

My heart stops. “She did?” I suddenly realize I didn’t take my purse into Elijah’s house. I fish in it for my phone and find I have two missed calls and a text from Emily.

“Where were you?” he demands.

This can easily be a trap.

I squeeze past him into the house and take a risk. “Uh, Tommy called, so I went over there for a while.” He has no idea we broke up, and I pray Tommy didn’t call the house while I was away.

His eyes slice through me. “Were his parents home?”

I force myself to hold his stare and swallow hard. “Of course.”

He studies me for fifteen agonizing seconds.

“Okay,” he says at last. “Well, I’m going to bed.”

“Goodnight,” I say cheerfully through gritted teeth before darting up the stairs. This is getting out of hand. If I’m not more careful, I’m going to get caught in a lie—and soon.

I send a text to “Garrett,” letting him know I’m home. Then I call Emily and plop down on my bed.

“Where have you been?” she says.

“Well hello to you, too,” I say.

“Kaley,” she groans.

“Sorry, I went out for a drive.”

Another white lie I’ll have to remember.

“Your dad said you told him you were at my house, so I freaked out not knowing where you were. Why did you lie to him about taking a drive? I thought I blew your cover or something.”

Oh, you absolutely blew my cover.

“I was going to call you and come over, but then I just felt like driving. I had a rough night after meeting with my mom.”

“What happened?”

As much as I don’t feel like it, I tell her the story.

“No!” she gasps when I finish.

“Please don’t say anything.”

“I won’t. I swear. I won’t tell a soul, not even Derek.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m beat, Ems. Talk tomorrow?”

She pauses. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” I say. “Hey, wait. Was there a reason you called me earlier?”

“Oh. Well, it doesn’t seem very important now after hearing about your mom,” she says, “but I just wanted to talk to you about what happened with Tommy today. I called you as soon as I found out. Everyone’s talking about it.”

My stomach drops. “They are?” Great. “I think Mr. Slate did what any teacher would’ve done,” I say, diplomatically.

“I heard he manhandled Tommy,” she says wryly.

“No,” I say, trying to downplay it. “He grabbed him by the shirt because he wouldn’t listen. I mean, Tommy was kind of losing it. He punched my locker.”

“Still though, I don’t know if he’s allowed to do that. I hope he doesn’t get fired.”

Every muscle in me tightens. “Yeah, me too,” I say. “Honestly, Ems, if you hear people talk about it just play it down. I don’t want him getting fired because of me. Actually, I was glad he was there. Tommy was in my face and getting a little scary.”

“Okay, I will,” she says. “If anyone deserves to be reprimanded, it’s Tommy.”

I’m thankful she’s supporting me for once instead of him. Even more thankful we’re not fighting anymore.

“Oh! I have something that’s less depressing to tell you,” she says.

“I would love that.”

“You won Best Eyes in the yearbook.”

I clamp my lips together, fighting the urge to make a sarcastic remark. I feel completely indifferent about it all. I just want to graduate and be free.

“Yeah, I heard that,” I say, sparing her the details of my encounter this morning with Avery.

“We all won, actually.”

She seems excited, so I indulge her. “Really? What did you win?” It takes every ounce of effort to sound upbeat.

“Most Outgoing,” she says with pride.

“Oh, that fits,” I say.

“Tommy won Best Looking,” she says mockingly, no doubt for my benefit. “And Derek actually won two categories. Best Smile and Best All Around.”

“Wow. Didn’t even know that was possible. Well, let’s hope it doesn’t go to his head,” I say. She laughs and we chat a few more minutes before saying goodnight.

I slip off my wedges and check my messages, reading Elijah’s reply:

Goodnight, beautiful.

A flutter tickles my belly, and I stare at the screen, soaking in his words before I delete them. I make a silent promise to myself that if we’re ever allowed to go public, I will put his number under “Sexy Slate.” It’s much more fitting than “Garrett.” I long for the day I can call him freely and never have to delete his messages.

As I wash my face and get ready for bed, I think about how my life has changed in such a short period of time. Everywhere I look, things appear so perfect, but are rarely what they seem. Our tight-knit group wins trivial popularity contests that will go down in high school history, yet we’re all on edge with each other. And as far as anyone else can tell, my parents have had the perfect marriage. On top of that, no one has any idea I’m dating my math teacher. . . . Is everything in this world just a façade?

I slip out of my clothes and pull Elijah’s shirt out of my purse. I slide it over my head, letting his delicious scent envelop me, and climb into bed. As I lay my head against my pillow, I pull the collar of his shirt to my face, inhaling deeply, and imagine him lying next to me. My entire soul aches for him, and I try to ignore the disquietude of him being punished for today’s incident. I snuggle into his shirt as I bury myself under the covers. I’m not going to worry about that now. Exhaustion soon takes over, and instead of fearing my dreams, I pray for Elijah to be the star of the show.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE



I SUCK AT LYING.

I know this about myself. And it’s not exactly helping my nerves right now. Okay, there’s no need to panic. I don’t have to lie. I just have to tell the truth . . . just not all of it.

Lord, help me.

I stare at the ominous door and wipe my moist palms on my jeans. The shades in the window are drawn, so I can’t see inside. With my elbows resting on my knees, I bury my face in my hands. I have no idea what I’m going to be asked, so I can’t prepare my answers. A buzzing sound interrupts the silence, followed by Mrs. Miller’s chipper voice.

“Ms. Kennedy?” she says.

I peer through my fingers and meet her smiling face.

“Mr. Bentley’s ready for you; go right in.”

I open my mouth to say thank you, but nothing comes out, so I just give her a weak smile before dragging myself to the principal’s office. Wrapping my fingers around the cold metal handle, I take a deep breath, then exhale as I press the handle down.

“Hello, Ms. Kennedy,” says Mr. Bentley as I enter. “Have a seat.”

Two intimidating men in suits are seated off to the left with briefcases and legal notepads. What am I walking into? Mrs. Miller rushes through the door with her own notepad and sits to Mr. Bentley’s right, just as I take the hot seat, front and center. Suddenly, I feel insignificant as I peer over Mr. Bentley’s overpowering desk.

“Kaley, this is Mr. Davis, our district lawyer,” says Mr. Bentley, indicating the man closest to me.

District lawyer? I swear I can feel the blood draining from my face. Mr. Davis nods to me, and I attempt a polite smile.

Mr. Bentley gestures to the man next to him. “And this is Mr. Alvarado, our superintendent.”

Shit!

I do my best to return a nod, but all I can think about is running out of this room screaming.