Page 20 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

I’m going to puke.

“It’s why my mom moved us out here.” He runs a hand through his brown hair, shoving it out of his face. “That’s what I get for thinking I could take on a dude built like a tank.”

My entire being aches at the thought of him throwing himself at a grown man to protect Evie.

“To make shit worse, we don’t have insurance. My mom’s so deep into debt from my hospital stay, there was no way we could have kept the apartment. If it weren’t for your mom, we’d be on the street right now.”

I scoot closer to him, needing to comfort him in any way that I can. I barely realize what I’m doing when I rest my fingers on top of his, and he glances down at our hands.

Embarrassment slams into me, and I withdraw.

“Back to ponytails, huh?” he asks.

The topic change surprises me. “Oh, um, yeah.”

I didn’t put my hair in a ponytail once in the last week. I just thought I’d try something different before school started.

“What happened to letting your hair down?”

Truth be told, I couldn’t stand it. My hair kept getting in my face, and I’d end up putting it back up, anyway.

“It just didn’t look good on me.”

I catch his smile as he reaches for one of the strands of red hair framing my face and twirls it around his finger.

Holy crap on a cracker.

“Bullshit,” he disagrees. “Everything looks good on you.”

I must look like an idiot, with my lips parted and widened eyes, but I’m not in control right now. My lifelong crush just told me everything looks good on me. It’s not like I’m about to die swooning or anything.

Then, like he just realized what he was saying, he pushes off the couch. “Anyway, thanks for helping me finish my song.”

A part of me is desperate to keep him here, but the other doesn’t want to seem clingy. He’s at the door now, seconds away from walking out of the shed.

He stops and shoulder-checks me a few seconds later.

“I’ll text you so we can pick a date for our next meeting.”

I barely manage an answer. “O-Okay.”

HADLEY

“Did you guys see what Aveena Harper was wearing in gym? Girl looked like she raided a hobo’s closet.” Brie’s mocking comment is nothing but background noise as we drop onto Lacey’s bed an hour after school ended.

Brielle Randall, everyone.

This girl is the definition of a snake.

She’s the girl who smiles to your face and talks about you behind your back. Lacey and I have known Brie our entire lives—small town and all—but we didn’t hang out much growing up.

Until Lacey had to go and get all chummy with her on our first day of high school two weeks ago.

I hate her.

But I like Lacey.

Therefore, I’ve learned to tolerate Brie.