Part 6 (1/2)

”I want you t-t-to go.”

Tears blur my vision, but I shake my head, feeling my chin tremble. ”Maggie-”

”Just go, Chloe!”

And I do.

I fly down the stairs and right past her mom. I'm desperate to be out of this warm, familiar house and all of its memories. Away from Maggie's hard words and hate-filled eyes. Mrs. Campbell calls after me, but I ignore her. I fling the door wide, rus.h.i.+ng into the cold darkness beyond it.

I thunder down their porch steps, wiping tears as I run for the sidewalk. Sobbing and half-blind, I run until I slam blindly into someone's back. Whoever he is, he's tall and broad and he barely s.h.i.+fts at the impact.

”What the h.e.l.l?” he says, and I leap back because I know that voice.

Adam turns around, shaking his hair out of his eyes and rubbing the back of his arm where I plowed into him. I stumble back in fear, and he catches me, fingers curling around my arms.

”G.o.d, Chlo, what is going on with you?”

I jerk myself free, feeling my eyes go wide. ”How did you know I was here? Why are you following me?”

”Following you? I live here,” Adam says, narrowing his eyes.

I shake my head, panting hard and feeling like a trapped animal. ”No, you don't. I'd know if you lived here.”

”You do know,” he says, frowning. ”I live in the apartments on the other side of the middle school.”

He looks like this is all very obvious. But it's not. Nothing's obvious except that I'm crazy. I'm totally crazy and I'm not getting better.

I'm supposed to be better. I did everything they told me to do a year ago. I went to therapy, and I wrote insanely long journal entries. G.o.d, I even did yoga! And it had worked. Dr. Kirkpatrick had said my results were so good that I didn't have to come anymore.

And now this. How in the h.e.l.l am I going to fix this? When will she ever say I don't have to come again?

Pain rises up my chest, right into a little ball in my throat. Adam is just standing there, watching me closely while I choke all over my own breath.

I shake my head. ”Stop looking at me like that!”

”Like what?”

”Like I'm supposed to know things I couldn't possibly know. Or like you know me, which you don't, okay? You don't know anything about me.”

”Hey, hey,” he says, dropping his backpack and rubbing his hands briskly up and down my arms. ”Calm down. Just breathe.”

I glance at Adam's hands on my arms. I don't have that feeling of someone invading my personal s.p.a.ce. Adam's touch feels good. No, it's better than good. His touch feels like home.

He steps in even closer and slides his hands down to the cuffs of my coat. He tells me again to breathe.

This time I listen. I inhale, long and deep. And something smells...familiar.

”I smell something,” I say. Something sweet and spicy that p.r.i.c.kles at the back of my mind. I can almost remember it.

Adam laughs. ”All right.”

Just like that, I get it. This clean mix of soap and leather and cinnamon-it's him. This is Adam's smell. And it's curling in my mind like a memory.

”Just wait,” I say, and for some crazy reason, I take his hand.

His skin is warm and rough, though it can't be thirty degrees out here. But he's not cold. His strong fingers wrap around mine without a bit of hesitation. This time, I don't think about how insane it is to touch him. All I can think about is that image I saw today. The one that sent me running to Maggie's house in the first place.

I close my eyes and grip Adam's hand tighter, trying to focus.

The picture forms in my mind again, and I exhale slowly, willing it to move.

Nothing.

”Chloe-”

”Please,” I whisper. ”Just give me a second.”

He doesn't owe me a second, or anything else, and I feel my cheeks going hot. I know I'm being weird, but he sighs and stays still. His fingers go soft, sliding until they interlace with mine. Our palms close together, and I s.h.i.+ver though I don't feel cold at all.

And then I remember.

A cla.s.sroom. Study hall from last year, but it's nighttime. And the posters are different, so it's not last year. It's this year.

Adam's bent over a book. I can hear myself talking about something. Science, maybe. But Adam's ignoring me, his eyes scanning the pages.

”Ugh, I can't focus,” I hear myself say. ”I feel all jittery and distracted.”

Adam doesn't look up when he speaks. ”Why's that?”

”Do you really have to ask?”

He looks up like he doesn't trust me. Like maybe he's heard me wrong. But then he lets himself smile, just a little. I feel warm and bright to the point of bursting, like the sun is rising somewhere deep inside my chest.

”One of these days we're going to have to do something about that,” he says.

I'm sure he's right.

It's over as soon as it starts. Back in the present, I'm cold and panting, standing on the sidewalk. Every part of me is shaking. I blink up at Adam, our hands still locked.

”I remember something,” I say. ”Something about you.”

Adam's expression is so intense, I swear it could power small cities. I feel his gaze crackle through every cell in my body. I don't know if he's mad or happy, or maybe both of those things mixed up, but when he steps closer, I forget where I am. h.e.l.l, even who I am.

”I can't figure you out, Chloe,” he says softly, shaking his head. He reaches up, fingering the tips of my hair. ”I can't figure you out at all.”

I feel the delicious weight of his hand on my face for one soul-blistering second. He lets me go and turns toward the sidewalk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. I expect him to leave, but he doesn't.