Free Shredded by Tracy Wolff Page A

need a protector, Z.”
    “No one said you did.” I glance at her. “Besides, does it look like I’m applying for the job?” With my tattoos and piercings and all-black wardrobe, no one looks less like a white knight than I do, and believe me, I know it.
    She looks me over from head to toe, and for a second it looks like she might say something else, but in the end she just shakes her head and keeps walking.
    We make the rest of the three-block trip in silence, the only sound that of our boots crunching in the snow and the laughter of my idiot best friends, who are still behind us. I try to think of something else to say, but for the first time ever I’m at a total loss for words. I don’t have a clue how to talk to this girl.
    Once we get to the parking lot, Ophelia says, “My car’s parked right over there.” She points vaguely toward the left side of the lot. “Thanks for walking me.”
    “No problem,” Ash tells her.
    “You okay driving back to the lodge on your own?” I ask suddenly. It’s snowed some since we’ve been out, and the roads are slick and a just a little icy. No big deal for me, but Ophelia’s a southern girl. Icy streets are a whole new ball game for her.
    My friends turn to stare at me—I guess they’re not used to me giving a shit about anyone but them—but I ignore them. I may be a loser and a fuck-up, but I’m not a total dick. Or at least, I don’t think I am.
    She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m good, Z.” She gives me a little push. “Go get your car at the movie theater and go to that party or whatever. I’ll see you around.”
    Then, after giving the others a little wave, she starts across the cleared and salted parking lot with long, sure strides.
    I watch her go, her confident gait eating up the distance between her and the dark blue Honda sitting under one of the huge parking lot lights in the first row. She doesn’t look back once, but still, I wait until she reaches the car and fumbles her keys out of her purse before I turn away and head back up the way we came.
    “So,” Luc says as we head back to my car. “What was all that rolling around on the ground with Ophelia?”
    “Shut up,” Cam snaps at him, sounding totally annoyed. “They fell.”
    Ash snorts. “Yeah, right. That totally looked like a fall. If, you know, a fall is another word for foreplay. You better start looking for another board, Luc. I think you’re going to have to kiss your Flow Darwin good-bye.”
    “I don’t know about that. It’s been twenty-four hours since they met and Ophelia’s driving herself back to the lodge, with no invitation for Z to follow. That has to be a first.”
    He’s right, it is, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Part of me wants to just fuck her and get it over with, but another part is growing a little more interested in her, in who she really is, each time we meet. Ophelia never says much about herself, but I can see that there’s more to her than the tough-girl attitude and the snappy comebacks. I just wish I knew what it was—and whether or not finding out will fuck me up more than I already am.
    I don’t say anything else as we walk back to my Range Rover. But as we pass one of those electronic signs that flash the date and time, along with the store’s specials of the day, there’s a part of me that freezes as I see today’s date up there in bright red lettering. November 18, 2013. November 18. November 18. November 18.
    The knowledge explodes through me, nearly rips me to pieces. Not the date, not even what the date stands for—what it will always stand for. No, that’s not what shreds me completely. It’s the fact that for the last couple of hours, while I ate ice cream and had the mother of all snowball fights, I’d forgotten. Forgotten what had happened to them. And forgotten my own culpability in it.
    As if I had that right.
    I stumble, nearly go to my knees as it all slams right back into me. The guilt and pain and pressure of it.