For six hours, Chloe did the same, and it felt like my life was over.

“Chloe, please.” I was begging, and I didn’t even care how pathetic I sounded. “Can you please talk to me? I’m sorry.” I reached around her, took the rag from her hands, and lifted it above my head.

She turned, eyeing it, but then her lips clamped shut and she crossed her arms.

She remained silent, so I spoke for both of us. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have asked to be in your gym class. I should’ve listened to you. It was a jerk thing to do. And I definitely shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about you and Clayton.” I stopped to take a breath, then added, “I hate that you’re ignoring me.”

Our eyes locked. Neither of us speaking. Not with words anyway.

“It’s okay,” she finally said.

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. My arm fell to my side, and she quickly swiped back the rag.

Turning around, she said over her shoulder, “You asked to be in my gym class?”

I sat on the counter while she wiped around me. I’d started to relax the second she acknowledged me. “Well, yeah. I mean, why do you think I was there?”

She nodded her head in understanding, but the rest of her movements slowed. She raised her eyes slightly, looking unsure. “Because you wanted to see Hannah?”

The tension came back. I covered her hand on the counter with mine, pleading with her to stop and give me her full attention. I needed her to hear me. “Chloe, I was there because I wanted to see you.”

She raised her head, and her eyes drifted shut. “Blake . . .” They snapped open, and a wall slammed down behind them. “You shouldn’t say shit like that.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The words weren’t there. Not yet. Swallowing the knot in my throat, I asked, “Like what?”

She didn’t respond.

We spent the rest of the cleanup in silence.

No skateboards this time.

I didn’t push her on what she meant because I already knew. And she was right; I shouldn’t be saying shit like that. But Chloe—she brought something out in me that had never existed before. She made me want to be there. She made me want to stay. It was as if she had reached inside me, taken my heart in her hands, squeezed tight, and made it start beating again. And it did—whenever I was around her, I could feel it thumping harder, faster.

All because of her.

“So I have a favor to ask you.”

As Josh turned the key in the lock to the bowling alley, Chloe and I both replied, “Sure.”

Turning to us, he chuckled. To me, he said, “I wouldn’t ask you. I’d just make you do it.” Then to Chloe, he said, “Hang out with us on Saturday night?”

Her eyes went wide and then locked with mine. I grinned from ear to ear.

“Well, actually, we need you to,” Josh added.

Slowly, her gaze trailed back to him. “You need me to?”

A low chuckle escaped. I was way too excited at the thought of seeing her outside school and work. I answered for him. “Yeah. You see Josh has one night a month without Tommy, and this Saturday is it.” I gently shoved her shoulder. “So now you have to come hang out with us or poor Josh . . . poor hardworking, single-teen-dad Josh is gonna get all upset.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and a look of confusion took over. But behind that, I swore I saw the hint of a smile.

“Yeah,” Josh said, gently nudging her other shoulder. “You have to come.”

I shoved her shoulder again.

He did the same to the other one.

She took a step back. “What the hell?” She looked back and forth between the two of us.

“Come on, Not Abby. Hang out with us. I never see people my age. The last time I went to a party and someone tried to speak to me, I spoke goo-goo-gah-gah talk to them, and they thought I was high.”

We all laughed.

“Fine,” she said.

“Fire truck, yes!” Josh yelled, and then he was off, jogging to his car. “Oh, Chloe?” he shouted, walking backwards so he could face us. “You’re driving!”

“Okay,” she yelled back, and then turned to me. “Fire truck, yes?”

I threw back my head as I laughed. “He has to tone down the cussing for Tommy, you know?”

She nodded, her grin still in place.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, Blake,” she said, searching through her bag. “We’re good.” She took out her keys and pulled down her shirt, trying yet again to cover the inch of skin that her shirt didn’t reach. “I’ll see you here on Friday okay?”

It was my turn to nod.

“And I mean it about not—”

“I got it, Chloe.” I cut her off. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”

CHAPTER NINE

Blake

I respected her wishes, kept my distance, and pretended as though she didn’t exist. Only she did. She was the only thing that existed in my mind, which made it impossible not to notice her at school. Like the time I watched her sitting under that same tree just outside the cafeteria, earphones in, head bouncing up and down with the music. Or the other time she was there, on her phone—probably to Clayton, laughing at something he said.

She even caught me staring at her once—when she was drinking from the water fountain. I swear it happened in slow motion—just to fuck with my head. My eyes fixated on her lips, dripping wet. Her tongue came out, licking them. They were red from the coldness of the water. A strand of her hair caught in the wetness. She moved it with her index finger to behind her ear, then wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She straightened. Then her dark gray eyes moved up, locked with mine. But she quickly averted her gaze and walked away, faster than I ever thought possible.