A lie. I do know. I just have to give it all up. Drop my mom’s interviews in the trash. Find something on Carson. Too bad I haven’t managed to do either.
Staying late at school doesn’t help much either. Ian was supposed to meet me to finish our project, but he never shows and I end up doing most of the work myself. Mrs. Lowe kicks me out of her classroom at six and it’s a relief. The hallways are quiet except for the hum of a floor polisher somewhere in the math wing. I’m almost to my locker when the dance team comes giggling toward me. I shuffle out of the way heading for my locker and something catches my eye.
I should say someone. Milo’s walking straight toward me, pretending not to notice how the entire dance team is staring at him with open mouths.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-shout.
Milo grins. “Well, Wicket Tate, as I live and breathe.”
“Very funny. Seriously, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see what you did all day. I can’t believe you’re actually going to high school.”
As opposed to hacking the school’s systems and giving myself straight As? I try to look superior, like the thought never occurred to me. It isn’t working though because Milo’s grin slides wider and my face gets hot.
Really hot.
“It’s called being honest, Milo. You should try it.”
“Why?”
Two more girls walk past us, eyeing him and giggling. Milo smiles at them and they giggle louder, hurrying down the hallway.
He turns to me. “Where’s your skinny gargoyle?”
“Why do you care where Griff is?” I ask.
“Maybe I don’t.” Milo holds up a large shopping bag. “Maybe I’m just here to play delivery.”
I should probably be more concerned that Milo had zero problems getting onto campus with what could have been a bomb, but all I can think is: My new computer. Gimme. Gimme.
I grab the bag with both hands and Milo laughs. Ignoring him, I pull out a sleek, compact desktop CPU, inhaling its plasticky, canned air scent.
God, I love that.
“That was a seriously fast build!” I slide the computer into the bag and pack the wrapping carefully around it. “Thank you! You didn’t have to bring it to me.”
“Yeah, I did.” Milo smiles at another pair of girls. Wait. No. They’re the same ones. They’re just coming back for a second look. “You have cops at your house.”
Does everyone know where I freaking live? I take a steadying breath, put two fingers to my suddenly jumping right eyelid. “Why were you at my house? You said you were going to contact me for pickup.”
Milo shrugs, flashes me that same I’m sexy and I know it look. “Curiosity. I wanted to see where you live. I’ve been watching your work for years. Never suspected you were a girl until Griff brought you by. Gotta say, I was shocked.”
“You sound like a sexist asshole.”
“Thank you!” Milo props one hand against the lockers, the long sleeve of his shirt slipping down to reveal the edges of his tattoos. He leans a little closer, crowding me, and I back up, my shoulders nudging into the lockers.
This feels like flirting and it shouldn’t.
“Well, um, I appreciate you bringing it by, but you might want to get going. You’re not a student and I don’t want to have to explain what”—I flap one hand—“this is.”
Because it isn’t really anything and yet Milo’s looking at me like it is.
I hoist the shopping bag between us. “Thanks again,” I say, swerving around Milo and beating feet for the parking lot.
I don’t make it three steps before I realize he’s following me.
“Side note?” I turn around and he keeps coming. He doesn’t stop until our tennis shoes are nearly touching. “I don’t appreciate being stalked.”
“Yeah, probably not.”
“Is that supposed to be an apology?”
Milo touches his fingers to his mouth, eyes pinned to me. “I could think of another way to show you I’m sorry.”
My ears go nuclear. “Does that line usually work for you?”
“You tell me.”
“I have a boyfriend. Remember him? Your friend?”
“Just because you do business with someone doesn’t make him your friend.”
“Nice,” I say, and spin on my heel, power walk to my car.
“Okay, look.” Milo strides along next to me and, somehow, that pisses me off even more. He’s as tall as Griff, and no matter how fast I walk, they can both easily keep up. “Sorry. I crossed some boundaries. I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that. I’d probably be a little freaked out too after what happened with your foster dad.”
I want to be pissed. Freaking papers. Freaking Milo. Then again, it isn’t like I didn’t research him too and, shockingly, he does sound sorry, but as soon as I glance at him, I know it was a mistake. Milo’s dark eyes go suddenly bright.
“’Cause your foster dad stalked you, right?” he continues. “And then you had to rely on pure dumb luck to catch him. Isn’t that the story in all the papers?”