Page 46 of Shane

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I wanted you to come. If you’re ready, just let me say my goodbyes to my friends, and we can go.”

I stare contemplatively at him for a moment.

My heart wavering between the desire to trust him and run from him.

“What are you doing here, Shane?”

“Just trying to get to know my friend Kennedy a little better.”

“No, seriously, why are you being so nice to me?”

“This is nice? You must not have many friends,” he jokes, but I don't laugh.

“Actually, I don't have a lot of friends, at least not anymore.”

“Because you scare everyone shitless?” he jibes.

“Because I got someone hurt back in high school.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I tell him, realizing this isn’t a conversation to have at a party.

“You said it because you needed someone to hear it, so tell me what happened.”

“Excuse me,” a mammoth-sized guy says to us. He definitely needs more room to pass by us than we’re giving him. “Can you two move over or something?”

Without a word of warning, Shane lifts me by the waist and sits me on his lap, giving the guy a wider berth.

“Thanks.”

Once the guy passes, I attempt to move back into my place on the staircase, but Shane stops me. “Stay here for a minute.”

“Shane–”

“Just in case some other people need to pass.”

I know that’s a lie, but I’m fine pretending if it means I can sit in his arms for just a moment longer and forget that our worlds aren’t colliding in the most unfair way imaginable.

“Continue your story,” he encourages.

“I went to a graduation party for someone from another high school. I went alone because most of my friends had other plans. It was a busy time of the year.”

“Sure, I get it.”

“That was my first mistake. I knew some of the people there but not a lot. I drank, I danced, and totally let my guard down, drawing the attention of a guy who was notoriously not a very nice person.”

I take a beat, reliving those early moments at the party.

“Can you keep going, or do you want to stop?” Shane asks.

“I tried avoiding him,” I continue. “But I couldn’t get rid of him. He was handsy and intimidating.”

“Did he hurt you?” Shane asks through gritted teeth as if he wants to reach back in time and wring the guy’s neck.

“No, nothing like that, but someone at the party must have called John to come help me.”

“John?”