Maybe they were perfect for each other.
But how would he know what was on the drive? Maybe he’d heard the first portion of study notes she’d recorded and turned it off. She knew she’d be able to tell if he had listened. After all, Tyler was always in trouble. That had to mean he wasn’t that great at hiding his crimes. That he wasn’t a great liar. And Kinley was smart. She would know if he was hiding something. He wouldn’t be able to kiss her if he knew. And he definitely wouldn’t be touching her like this if he realized what she had done to him.
To all of them.
If he realized what was on the flash drive that he’d “lost,” he’d hate her.
And if he’d really, truly lost it . . . well. She couldn’t think about what that meant.
“I really need it, Tyler. Please? Please find it for me?” She pouted, sticking out her lower lip.
“Don’t you make copies?” he asked, trying to kiss her again. “Or save the information on your computer . . . for safekeeping?”
She moved her head slightly, so his kiss landed on her cheek. And then he was kissing her neck.
“Not this time,” she said. She put her hands on his chest. “Look, Tyler . . . they weren’t just study materials, okay?”
He stepped back a little bit and took a look at her. “Then what was on there?”
She looked down at her shoes. “I spent two hundred dollars on the Internet for what this guy promised was the answers to the SAT test. I recorded them to the device.”
Of course, if Tyler bothered to study for the SAT, he’d know you couldn’t just buy the answers. But since he wasn’t the most promising academic, Kinley was counting on him not exactly knowing the ins and outs of serious test-taking.
“So just re-record them.”
“I deleted all communication after I recorded them,” Kinley said slowly. “I didn’t want to leave a trail.”
It sounded somewhat sensible when she’d recited it on the way over.
So why didn’t he look like he was buying it?
“I’ll tell you what,” Tyler said. “I’ll look extra hard if you promise to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“So, my brother’s been . . . threatening me a little.” His face changed slightly. “He’s trying to get me in trouble for something he did. Something that could really put me in the spotlight with my probation officer, and ergo, the cops. Which would clearly be a bad idea right about now.”
“What is it?” she asked. Tyler could not be in trouble with the police right now, especially not if he had the flash drive somewhere, lost or otherwise. If they got their hands on that—they were all doomed. She played with the end of her braid—a nervous habit she’d been trying to quit. Lately, her fingers found their way there more and more often, and the tips of her hair were fraying into split ends.
Tyler winced, and walked to his window. “Do you mind if maybe we don’t talk about that? It’s personal. And I don’t want to change the way you think of me.”
Kinley’s heart did this funny swelling thing that felt good and hurt all at the same time. Was he being honest with her? She hesitated. “Can . . . can I help?” She crossed the room and touched his shoulder. She wanted to trust him so bad. She wanted to be his and for all of this to be behind her. Like really his . . . a real girlfriend who would go out on real dates and kiss him in public and wear his sweatshirts home at night.
But she also wanted to shake him until all of his secrets spilled out.
“I want to record his threats. So if he ever does anything with them for real, I can bring the recording to my probation officer and show him I had no choice.” He flexed his fingers into fists and then stretched them out. “I always get blamed, Kin. But I can’t be that guy anymore. Not now.”
“I’ll help,” she whispered. “I promise. Just do one thing for me, okay?”
He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “Of course.”
She studied him, wanting to give into his touch.
“Find the flash drive.”
Tyler
Saturday, June 27
“Wait, Kin,” Tyler said. He stopped her at the door.
Tyler’s parents looked up. They’d both been giving Kinley these big, huge hugs, and saying things like how they hoped she’d be around more. They were basically adopting her as a third child. They didn’t want to let her go, and neither did he. He couldn’t let her leave just yet.
He had something else he needed to talk to her about. Listening to the flash drive had given him an idea, and he wanted her help.
At least, he told himself it was her help he wanted, and ignored the weird little part of him that wanted to protect her, even after everything.