Free Six Months Later by Natalie D. Richards Page B

truth is, I’d pretty much expect to find Blake in the bathroom with either of those girls. They’re bouncy in all the right places, and they probably know all the important lacrosse rules. They are his kind. And yeah, maybe I dreamed about being in this position for years, but the truth is, I don’t belong here. There just isn’t a bit of sense in it.
    “Ever since that night you hit your head, you’ve been strange,” he says, looking down. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”
    I can’t hold back my snort. “ I’m hiding something? Okay. Sure.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Nothing. Just forget it.” I turn, but his hand closes around my arm.
    “What the hell, Chloe?” When I turn back, he doesn’t look like a villain. He looks handsome and sweet and terribly hurt. “What did I do to make you so mad? Why won’t you just tell me?”
    I bite my lip, weighing my options. I’ve been over that text a thousand times, and I can’t imagine it being anything but sinister. But it’s not like I’m the poster child for objectivity here.
    “Are you going to say anything?” he asks, and he doesn’t look suspicious. He looks like a guy who deserves better than this. Hell, stray dogs probably deserve better than this.
    “I saw something on your phone,” I say.
    He throws up his hands, clearly baffled. “My phone?”
    “I didn’t mean to. You have to believe that. It was a complete accident, but I saw a text on your phone.”
    Blake’s hands come down into his lap slowly. For one second, his face looks fractured, like there’s something cold and angry simmering just beneath his puzzled expression. When I blink, it’s gone, and he’s just an ordinary guy trying to calm down his obviously paranoid girlfriend.
    “What text?” he asks. His voice is too low. Too quiet.
    I look down at my hands in my lap, humiliated. “It buzzed while you were in the bathroom.”
    He cocks his head at that. “After you’d been with Adam, right?” His tone says it all.
    Ouch. And he’s totally right. He found me in the men’s bathroom with my hand on another guy’s arm, and I’m getting bent out of shape over a totally vague text message that I had no business looking at in the first place. Hello, Kettle, my name is Pot.
    “Blake, I know what that probably looked like, but that wasn’t what it was.”
    “And neither is this. What did the text say, Chloe?”
    I feel my cheeks growing warm. “It said, ‘Do your job and she won’t figure anything out.’”
    “That’s all you read?” he says.
    I nod, even though it seems like an odd thing to say. Was there something worse I could have read? Ugh, why can’t I just stop?
    “That’s it?” he repeats, obviously waiting for me to say something.
    “Yeah. Yeah, that’s all.”
    He laughs then, like he thinks I’m completely ridiculous. And I have a bad feeling I’m about to agree with him. “Chloe, it’s about Christmas. Dad bought Mom a bracelet for Christmas. He’s keeping it in my room in case she goes snooping in his usual hiding spots.”
    My cheeks go hotter, and I look down again. “Oh. Well, I…”
    There isn’t a thing I can say that will make this better, so I trail into silence. God, what is wrong with me? I finally get the guy of my dreams, and I’m going to lose him because I’m a neurotic whack job. Terrific.
    Blake laughs again, which makes me flinch because I feel like I’m going to cry.
    “Chloe, look at me,” he says.
    I feel his hand on my face, cooler than is exactly comfortable, but it is November I guess. I look at him, holding back my tears.
    “I’m really sorry,” I say. “I guess I was just feeling insecure.”
    “It’s cute that you’re jealous,” he says, looking a little smug.
    “No, it’s not. It’s obnoxious. I really wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.”
    “I know that. We both have enough respect for each other not to do that.”
    I sigh in relief, and this time, when he leans