THE REST of the week is filled with doctor’s appointments and trying to figure out who the hell I am.
I still can’t remember anything prior to waking up in the hospital, and Dr. Anderson’s diagnosis remains the same: my memories will filter back with time. However, at the last appointment, I heard him tell Alex we should be preparing for the possibility of this becoming long term.
I should be ready to live with a wiped memory.
Thinking about it brings a taste of bitterness and nausea. I’m not ready to face that bleak reality.
Today, I decided to end the one-person pity party and go back to college.
This is my last year, and I shouldn’t miss more classes.
I can walk with a brace on my right leg, and there’s no point in roaming around an empty house. Alex is barely home, if ever. Elizabeth—whom I finally convinced to let me call her Izzy—is usually holed up in the kitchen making some of the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted.
Every time I eat her meals, I wonder why the hell I would have moved out.
She’s been giving me funny stares whenever I ask for more or for food rich in calories. Apparently, I only ate salads before. That’s such a blasphemous thing to do when Izzy’s food is around.
To my dismay, the resident asshole Asher hasn’t left. I’ve been praying every day that the next time I wake up, he’ll be long gone to England.
Hasn’t happened.
On top of that, he enrolled in Blackwood College. I don’t know why the hell he would give up Oxford and return here.
It can’t be just so he can ruin my life.
Scratch that—with someone like Asher, it’s completely plausible.
I’ve been actively avoiding him, which isn’t too hard. We don’t eat together in this family. Alex is off to work first thing in the morning and returns late. Asher leaves early, too. I watch him from my window. He’s usually wearing jeans and stylish sports T-shirts.
Every day, he stops in front of the house and glances up. Sometimes, I’d swear he was looking straight at me if I weren’t sure the curtains camouflaged me. Those annoying aviators hide his expression, too, so I’m never sure what he’s thinking about.
No idea why I always want to know what’s going on in that screwed-up head.
Asher is an enigma in a way, but that’s not all. He’s an enigma who’s after me. I’ve been watching him closely with Izzy and the rest of the staff, and he never shows them an ounce of what he shows me.
If anything, he laughs and smiles like the kindest son of a bitch in the world.
It aches, you know. Being hated by someone who doesn’t hate anyone is a straight jab to my person.
What could I have done to warrant such treatment?
Some days, I curl into a ball and let a gloomy depression take me over. I let the unknown creep under my skin and whisper nasty things to my brain.
Well, not today.
I have to start somewhere to know what kind of person I am. And yes, I’ve been praying I’m not the type who dresses to impress or a vain cheerleading captain.
A truck comes down the driveway, heading toward the entrance.
My chance.
Due to the brace, I limp and move slowly, but I manage to intercept Jason’s truck before it’s out.
The sound of the brakes echoes in the air. He rolls his window down. “Jesus. Do you have a death wish?”
I open the passenger door, throw my bag in, and slide inside. “Not today, but a ride to college would be cool.”
Even though the inside of the truck isn’t fancy, it smells like mint and lemon, like summer.
I like that smell.
He looks me up and down like I’m a zombie apocalypse runaway. I mean I’m wearing a denim dress and some cute flats I found at the back of the walk-in. I even covered all the bruises with foundation. The only thing that stands out is the leg brace that stops right under my knee. I shouldn’t look that much like a zombie.
Jason grips the steering wheel, continuing the up-and-down examination. His expression isn’t exactly one of interest, more like…surprise. “You’re going back to college?”
“Yup, and you’re giving me a ride.”
He laughs. “Yeah, not going to happen, princess.”
“I knew it.” I narrow my eyes on him.
He narrows his eyes back. “You knew what?”
“You’ve been avoiding me since I came here. You can’t run away. Spill, Jason.” I try not to sound offended. I actually thought he could be my only friend here—until he disappeared from my immediate vicinity.
His brows furrow. “There’s nothing to spill.”
“You mean to tell me you haven’t been around this past week and you don’t want to give me a ride because you’re not avoiding me?”
“First of all, I go to a cheaper college on the other side of town. If I go to your elite Blackwood College, I’ll be skinned alive by the Knights.”
“The Knights?”
“I play as a quarterback for the Knights, and the Black Devils are our number one rival. We have rivals week in town.”
Still not sure why that matters.
“Second of all, we don’t mingle, princess.” He leans over, watching his surroundings before he whispers like some spy. “At least not in public.”
My eyes widen. That means we mingle in private.
I knew it! I could feel the connection with Jason without having to try hard.
“What did we do in private?” I whisper back, somehow feeling like we need to keep quiet.
Jason opens his mouth to speak but soon closes it when he stares ahead.
I follow his line of sight.
Something constrictive balls at the back of my throat and my palms turn sweaty, all cold and wrong.
Asher.
He steps out of the house, wearing dark jeans and a gray T-shirt. The clothes are nothing special, but on him, they appear elegant, majestic even.
His hair is styled back, but it still has that rugged look, as if he only half bothered with it. As usual, the aviators sit on his arrogant nose like they’re a part of his face.
Why the hell would someone with such mesmerizing eyes hide them?
Not that I think his eyes are mesmerizing. They’re not.
He heads for the Mustang parked out front—of course an asshole drives such a beautiful car. It’s black, too, like his soul.
He stops in front of his ride, as if feeling my attention on him.
Oh, no. It’s not good if I’m caught in that asshole’s orbit. He’ll just suck the life out of me like in the last encounters we’ve had.
I perk up and whisper-yell at Jason. “Go.”
“Does anyone even know you’re going to school?”
“Alex does.” I think. He was too preoccupied in his office when I kind of informed him last night. He could’ve nodded to me or to whoever was on the phone; I’ll never know. “Go before he sees us,” I urge Jason.
“You’re supposed to go with him.”
I lift my chin up. “I’m supposed to be with whoever the hell I please. Asher is not my keeper.”
At that exact moment, Asher lifts his head, and his shade-covered eyes collide with mine.
I swear some sort of battle erupts whenever we’re in the same place.
He says something. I don’t hear him, but I see him mouth ‘Stop’ as Jason kicks the truck into gear.
As we pass Asher, I roll down the window and flip him off. He freezes, a hand lying inert by his side. I soak in his surprised expression as Jason and I laugh.
“I’ve got to admit, I’m loving the new you,” Jason says.
“Why? What was the old me like?”
“Bitchy? Snobby? Silent, mostly.”
Ouch.
“And you would’ve never flipped Asher Carson the bird.”
I raise an imaginary cup. “To the new me, I guess.”
From today onward, no one is telling me how to live my life.
