Insidious(69)

Reese’s eyes were still fixed on the mouth of the alleyway.

“Hey, you okay?”

“What?” he mused distractedly, finally returning his attention back to me. “Oh… Yeah, I’m fine. I just…have something I need to do.” He was already making his way down the sidewalk. “Rain check, on the breakfast?”

“Sure.”

He turned back to give me one last parting smile, but there was an inexplicable somberness in his eyes. “It was really nice meeting you. Kat.” The way Reese said my name, I couldn’t help but sense that he really wanted to stay. Nevertheless, he walked away. Something about the man had rubbed us both the wrong way, yet Reese seemed to be heading after him as he too eventually dodged into the very same alley.



***



I stirred awake. I’d spent countless times reflecting over the first time we met, and I could never figure out what happened between us. Now, I saw with new eyes. Something had happened that morning. Something he could only now explain.

But how was I going to ask?

Reese was guarded, to say the least, and I doubted he’d tell me outright.

Grabbing the tops of the covers draped over my torso, I was about to pull them up further when the theme from Dracula suddenly blasted from the nightstand. Receiving texts had become a new fear of mine, but I breathed a sigh of relief to see Reese’s name on the screen.

“Pick you up at 7.”

I lifted my head, seeing the clock that read 6:45 a.m. Crap, I forgot to set my alarm. It thankfully didn’t take me more than a few minutes to get ready, since I didn’t bother doing my hair and I could pull off not wearing any makeup.

The downstairs fell silent as I made my way into the kitchen.

Never a good sign.

Just as I feared, Mom was sitting perched at one of the high stools with a full cup of coffee in her hands. By six o’clock, she was always a woman on the go, and the fact that she was sitting still only meant one thing: I was in trouble.

“Morning,” I said, cautiously coming into the kitchen.

She stared down at me pointedly over the brim of her reading glasses. “Care to explain something?”

“I learned all about Nonlinear Fubini’s Theoremin in Calculus last week, so if you’re interested in expanding your knowledge…” My attempt at a smile faltered as she glared back at me.

“Reese Blackburn.”

Oh, crap.

Had she seen him leave here last night?

Did she think we’d been doing…something?

“I ran into Mrs. Ashford while I was on my run this morning. Word is that you and Mr. Blackburn have gotten awfully chummy as of late. Is this true?”

“We’re talking,” I admitted.

The glasses came off, and I instinctively cowered back. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said? I’m running for president of the Woodstone Regency Society, and now you decide to befriend the boy who’s written how many defaming articles about all their children?” She slammed her coffee mug on the countertop so hard I was surprised it didn’t shatter on impact.

Double crap.

It wasn’t exactly a shocker that Reese hadn’t made any friends in Mystic Harbor, and the school paper certainly didn’t help. But he didn’t mind either, as he was the only one who actually called out certain individuals for abusing certain privileges. Like how some teachers were fudging grades for certain athletes so they had the GPA to play. Or how students were buying the answers to last year’s Biology final after a certain cheerleader ‘stumbled upon’ a loose copy. Of course, nothing ever seemed to happen to the offenders, but it was gratifying to at least see someone airing their dirty deeds. Despite how much I wanted to punch him before, I always admired how Reese refused to be a cog in the Mystic Harbor machine.

“In his defense, his articles really aren’t defaming if they’re true,” I countered.

“Katrina-”

“What? The children of your beloved Woodstone Regency Society have done a whole hell of a lot worse than write a couple honest articles, and you’ve never objected to me hanging out with any of them. If anything, they’re the bad seeds, and you’ve been practically throwing me at them since we moved here.”

“That boy is trouble.” Mom rubbed her eyebrows, trying to regain her composure. “Maybe your father’s right.”

“…About?”

“After everything that’s happened here, perhaps it would be best if you returned to Stewart’s Landing for the remainder of your senior year.”

“Mom…no.”

“It might do you some good, to be somewhere where people aren’t talking.” With every excuse she listed off, my stomach clenched tighter and tighter. This wasn’t about me. Not for my wellbeing anyway. This was about putting a stop to the problems I’d inadvertently caused her.