Then she turned and looked at Jeremy, surprised at his nastiness. Jeremy met her gaze for a moment, his eyes narrowed, his features sharp and on alert. He looked like he was about to defend himself . . . or maybe bite her head off. On instinct, Caitlin flashed him a reassuring smile. I’m with you, she hoped her look told him as she pushed thoughts of Josh out of her head. There’s no need to be jealous.
It seemed to defuse the tension. Jeremy’s face relaxed into an almost sheepish expression. “Uh, thanks!” he yelled toward Josh, and though it was totally fake, Caitlin appreciated the effort.
“So, where were we?” she asked teasingly, sliding closer to him. “Oh, that’s right—we were scheduling our next make-out session.”
Jeremy put his arm around her. Still mystified by the confused thoughts she’d had about Josh, Caitlin leaned into Jeremy and felt his body soften as she curled into him, pressing close together, forming a perfect curve.
CHAPTER TWENTY
PARKER SHOT UP STRAIGHT. WHERE was she? She knew she’d been sleeping—and it felt like it had been for a long time. She looked around, taking in the familiar sights. A square room with a makeshift window. A musty smell in the air. Outside, she caught a glimpse of the side of a white stuccoed house far in the distance. Wait a minute. She knew that house.
She jumped up, quickly pulling up her hoodie and locating her kicked-off shoes across the space. She was in the woods behind Nolan Hotchkiss’s house. Long ago, someone had built a hunting cabin here. No one used it anymore but, for whatever reason, it had never been torn down. Parker and Nolan hung out there a lot when they were friends—they used to call it their clubhouse—and when things were really shitty at home, she sometimes crashed here. She’d brought Julie here a few times, too, though Julie said the place freaked her out.
“Jesus Christ,” she said aloud. What had possessed her to come here? Was she insane? They were already suspects in Nolan’s murder—the last thing she needed to do was get caught skulking around near his property. She’d really lost it.
When she pushed out the door, the woods were quiet. She walked toward his house and through his backyard. Police tape no longer surrounded the property; it was back to looking perfect and pristine, as though no crime had ever happened. Heart pounding, Parker padded across the dewy grass, toward the bus stop a few avenues over. She didn’t see anyone on the way, no 6 AM runners or dads walking dogs. Had she honestly gotten away with sleeping here?
But it didn’t surprise her, in a way. As usual, it felt like she wasn’t even there.
That afternoon, Parker pushed open the heavy door to CoffeeWorks, the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop she’d been frequenting lately. It wasn’t Café Mud, the steel-and-reclaimed-wood mother ship of cool where most Beacon High students hung out during free periods. But the dim lighting and strong coffee was exactly what Parker needed right now. Something rattled against her cheeks, and she put up her hands to see what it was. Julie’s earrings. The silver wire chandeliers with the pretty beads. She’d forgotten she’d borrowed them. She was forgetting more and more every day. In fact, when had she last spoken to Julie? She vaguely remembered sitting on a bluff all alone last night, drinking from a six-pack of beer, talking to Julie on the phone. Julie had been in one of her hysterical moods. Julie had started by saying something about how Mac had stopped by and had told Julie all these terrible things about Claire—apparently she’d practically annihilated Mac’s chances at Juilliard. Then Julie had moved on to Parker. She’d asked where Parker was and when was she coming back to Julie’s. She’d badgered Parker, telling Parker it felt like she was keeping secrets. You can tell me, Julie had urged. You need to tell me. But Parker had groaned, rolling her eyes. I’m not keeping secrets, she’d said. But, in fact, she was keeping one big secret: She had started seeing Fielder again.
As Julie continued to pester her, Parker had felt crowded, and then things had devolved into a fight again . . . and Parker couldn’t remember the rest of the call.
Which is probably why she’d woken up where she did that morning.
Parker rubbed her face with her hands, feeling the nubby scars under her palms. She really needed to get it together. She needed to talk more to Elliot—er, Fielder—about focusing. Maybe he could give her more visualization techniques. She shut her eyes and tried to hear his calming voice. It immediately soothed her. The sessions she’d had with him so far must be working.
Then she took stock of the room. The espresso machine whirred and chugged, a barista banged wet grounds into the garbage, and the door opened and closed behind her, sending a cool draft of air washing over her legs.
“Can I help the next customer?” the pierced and tatted gender-neutral cashier called out.
Parker stepped up to the counter and ordered a triple latte. Just as she dumped a few bucks on the counter, she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“So this is where you come instead of school, huh?”