“And you promise me if you get anything out of the ordinary, you’ll call me and the police, right? Don’t try to do this on your own, Sloan. I love you and want to help.”
Sloan nodded, knowing full well she wouldn’t call. If she got a note, it meant she wasn’t crazy and someone was out there with very intention of hurting her. Someone who could make good on the threat to hurt her mother. Sloan couldn’t take that chance.
“Good.” Her mom smiled, unaware of her daughter’s deception. “Now, I called and told them I’d be late. I’m the manager. I get a few perks now and then. I’ll try to be home early tonight. Around four or five, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
Her mom left after a few more short pleasantries, leaving Sloan alone to think. Thinking wasn’t a great thing to do so she decided to go ahead and go to school. She grabbed her keys from the stand beside the front door, making sure the door was locked. Pausing for a second, she listened for the delivery man to come again.
Nothing.
Okay. Good. That was good, right?
She grabbed her backpack and went to the back door. For a second, she hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. Something or someone could be back there. The flowers, a note, a homicidal maniac for all she knew.
Something else was behind that door. A memory. The memory of Aaron’s lips on hers. How he bent down to take her, how his lips were warm and comforting, passionate and strong. When he held her tightly, she wanted to stay there forever.
And that scared her more than any roses or threatening notes ever could.
With all her heart, she didn’t want to pick between the brothers. Selfishly, she still wanted them both. Ray for his kind thoughtfulness. And Aaron for his strength and honesty — and boy was he honest. Honest to a fault.
A new pain overtook her chest. One she wished would go away. Pain for having to hurt one brother and excitement for what could happen with Aaron.
If anything was going to happen with Aaron.
“Get over it!” she demanded herself, shaking her head. “You have more important things to worry about than who you want to kiss.” But kissing Aaron was a much better thing to think about than a possible psychopath after her. However, not by much.
She locked the door behind her, glancing over at the concrete wall Aaron had pressed her against.
Again her chest ached, but for a different reason.
After what seemed like an eternity, she made it into her car and shut the door. No flowers in there either.
Strange.
Okay, so no flowers at her front door. None in her car. On Monday, they were in her locker, so maybe they would be there today.
All the way to school, she tried her best to focus on just driving, the songs on the radio, and clearing her head. It was Wednesday. Normally, she didn’t hate Wednesdays. They weren’t like Mondays. And since there was no school on Friday for prom, it was technically Thursday. Something to be happy about.
Most girls at school were head-over-heels excited about the prom. Not her. She hadn’t really had time to think about it. She had her dress — a red-sequined one with an asymmetrical sleeve across one shoulder and a slit just above her knee. And her shoes — sparkly silver ones. And she knew how she’d wear her hair — pulled back with small braids in two barrettes on each side.
She’d look decent. Fabulous even. But now it would be weird since she’d kissed Ray’s brother. Why couldn’t Aaron have waited until after prom? That would have been swell.
And then there was the countdown. The roses were counting down to prom. The “fall” would happen at prom if the notes were right. What type of fall, she didn’t know. It would be nice to know, though. At least she could anticipate it, strange as it would be. It was the unknown that got her. The not knowing where the roses were, what the note said, or who sent it were fraying her nerves.
Then again, if she listened to one theory, no one was sending them to her. She’d made it all up in her crazy little mind. That was one theory she couldn’t get behind. She’d seen the flowers, hadn’t she? Smelled them. Read the notes. Talked to the man who’d delivered them — though he had acted funny. Could her mind have thought of something so elaborate? Had she been that traumatized by what Boyd had done to her? Or had her brains been scrambled so badly after she whacked her head?
Her head ached just thinking about it. Her first instinct was to grab some medicine from her backpack. Then she remembered how tired she’d been after taking it and how fuzzy it had made her eyes. She pulled into the parking lot and drove past all the other cars to her spot in the far back corner. It was stupid. They were over-the-counter pills, nothing to hurt her. Her eyes had been fuzzy because she’d been tired. Nothing else. Certainly not the pills.