My legs stiffened, and I didn’t sit down. Crossing my arms, I walked to the rain-splattered window and, out of habit, looked up to Tate’s darkened bedroom windows.

Don’t.

“Jared,” she continued, “I’m using you, too. I’m not even sure if I want Liam back, but I want him to know I’m not sitting at home waiting for him, either. That’s why I took you up on the offer to come here tonight. Tate said she was busy, and I didn’t want to stay home.”

I turned around and cocked my head to the side, peering at her. “You could’ve used any guy to make Liam jealous, K.C. Why me? You knew that it would hurt Tate if she thought you were hooking up with me.”

I could almost see her melt into the couch. Her face fell, and she slowly brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them.

“My mom is…,” she almost whispered, “overbearing.” She shook her head, like the word “overbearing” was too simplistic. “She picks out my clothes, checks my phone, picks my classes, and she even …” But her breath caught, and she choked back a dry sob.

My mouth went dry, and I stilled.

Jesus.

What wasn’t she saying?

Using her thumb, she caught tears as they fell. “Anyway, after Liam, I’m just sick of being me. Sick of being weak and pushed around. I thought Jared Trent would get under Liam’s skin like no other.”

The corners of her lips turned up slightly, and I understood what she was saying.

We both wanted control.

“But you knew it would hurt Tate,” I restated, still searching for a reason why she would hurt her so-called best friend.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Not part of the plan, but I guess I figured it would turn around this game you two play. Move things along, so to speak.”

I pinched my eyebrows together. “Even at the risk of losing your friend?” I asked.

But she shocked me by exhaling a laugh. “You’re not that powerful, Jared.” She looked down, and then continued softly, “Tate and I will be fine. She can’t know about this, though. She knows who she is. She’s not silly or insecure. I don’t want her judging me for playing this game with Liam. I don’t want anyone to know.”

She put her feet back on the carpet and straightened up, meeting my eyes. “Jared, I have no idea what your problem is with her, but I know you’re not a bad guy. I thought when she got back, things would be different. You two would be over this mess.”

“We are over it,” I asserted as I took a seat next to her.

K.C. narrowed her eyes to slits and tipped her chin up. “You love her,” she said, not asked, and my face flushed.

“No,” I said firmly.

“Good.” She slapped her hands onto her lap, and her tone suddenly lightened up, surprising me. “Ben Jamison will be at the race Friday night. It’s likely he’ll bring Tate. Can you keep your claws in?”

My arms rested on the back of the couch, otherwise she would’ve seen my fists ball up.

As much as I was trying to not care, Madoc, K.C., and everyone else for that matter kept reminding me that Tate was moving on with her life.

“I don’t care who does what, K.C,” I stated without any emotion.

She looked at me for a few seconds, while I stared ahead.

“Do me a favor?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her faded jeans. “Play along with this through the race for me? Liam is going up against Madoc, and I just—”

“Yeah,” I cut her off, knowing exactly what she needed. “You got it.”

If she wanted to make Liam jealous, then I could help. It wasn’t a very honorable cause, but it was fun.

“Movie?” I suggested, trying to change the subject.

“Sure. Do you like dance movies?”

And I almost kicked her out of my house right then and there.

Thick rain poured down outside, and the air felt dense with energy. I gave K.C. a sweatshirt to cover her head when she left around midnight, and then I locked up the house and jogged upstairs to my room.

For the first time in years, I wanted in that tree.

Tate and I used to climb in and sit in it during storms—or anytime, really. I hadn’t seen her in the tree for years, though.

Sliding up the window, I poked my head out into the wind and the rain and immediately froze.

Hell.

Tate was in the tree.

My fingers clenched the windowsill.

The first thing that came to mind was an angel. Her hair flowing and shiny. Her legs dangling, long and smooth. She looked perfect where she was, like a painting.

And then I remembered that Satan was also an angel.

You’re a miserable piece of shit, Jared. Her words today had cut me more than I wanted to admit.

“Sitting in a tree during a thunderstorm?” I taunted her. “You’re some kind of genius.” She popped her head up and twisted around to face me.

The look in her eyes—that I could see, anyway—wasn’t angry the way it usually was with me. She wouldn’t look at me completely. No, her eyes were guarded and a little sad.

“I like to think so, yes,” she said, facing away from me again.

Her demeanor had me puzzled. She wasn’t timid, but she wasn’t engaging, either. Did she feel bad about what she said to me today?

Well, I didn’t need her pity. I wanted her f**king anger.

Don’t feel sorry for me.

I wanted her to sit there and own what she did. Don’t apologize and don’t shy away. Get mad at me, Tate.

“Tree? Lightning? Ring any bells?” I continued to antagonize her. I knew there was some danger sitting in a tree during a lightning storm, but it’s nothing we hadn’t done a hundred times when we were kids.

“It never mattered to you before,” she spoke up, emotion gone from her voice as she looked out to our glistening street.

“What? You sitting in a tree during a storm?”

“No, me getting hurt,” she shot back and shut me up.

Damn her.

Every f**king muscle in my body tightened, and I wanted to shake her and yell, “Yeah, I don’t f**king care if anything bad ever happens to you!”

But I couldn’t.

I did care—goddammit—and I wanted to punch a wall because of it. Why the hell did I care about anything she did? Who she dated? Who she screwed?

But then, I guess I’d be miserable, too, if my parents hated me.

Her words spread like tentacles through my brain, sucking the life out of everything good I’d ever thought about her. Every memory.

I had to cut her out of my heart and my head.

“Tatum?” I almost hesitated but forced out the rest. “I wouldn’t care if you were alive or dead.”

And I turned my back on her and finally just walked away.

Chapter 18

K.C. came huffing over to my table again for lunch the next day. She wouldn’t talk about it, and I wouldn’t ask, but I assumed it was about either Tate or Liam.

Liam, I couldn’t care less about. Tate, I tried to care less about.

“So I just got a text from Zack.” Madoc came up and swung a chair around to straddle it backwards. “Derek Roman will be back in town for the weekend. He wants to race you on Friday night.”

I groaned inwardly, not because I thought I would lose, but because Roman was a huge bucket of dick.

Yeah, what I did to Tate the last few years, this guy did times ten to half of the school when he went here. I might win, or I might lose, but getting my car to finish without a scratch would be a miracle.

I shrugged. “Fine. It’ll be a close race, so the odds will pay off big.”

And I needed the money. My father was pinching me for cash every week, and it wasn’t pocket change. He was smart, though. He wanted money but never got too greedy. Enough to make it hurt me but not enough that I wouldn’t be able to deliver.

“You’re racing Liam, right?” K.C. asked Madoc.

He looked at her across the table and smirked. “I don’t know if we’d call it racing. More like a castration.”

“Just be careful, okay?” She looked concerned.

Really?

Madoc leaned his chest forward into the back of his chair. “K.C.?” His voice was low and husky. “I’m picturing you na**d right now.”

And I couldn’t help it. The snort came out, and my chest exploded with laughter, as I buried my forehead into my hand.

“Ugh!” K.C. grumbled in disgust. Standing up, she straightened her cut off jean skirt and stalked off towards the cafeteria doors, but Madoc and I still couldn’t control ourselves.

God, he’s the best.

“K.C., wait!” I shouted after her, not really trying to bring her back.

Madoc stood up, still chuckling. “K.C., come on. It was a joke.”

But she didn’t turn around.

And we kept laughing.

Tate and I had made eye contact a few times throughout the day. The storm in her eyes had turned to a drizzle, but I didn’t spend time thinking about it.

I couldn’t. The shit between us was over. It had been over for her a long time ago, but for me, it needed to end pronto.

Themes class passed peacefully, but Penley had us arrange our desks in circles, so I had a perfect view of Tate sitting across from me. Every once in a while, I would catch her glancing at me, the thoughts behind her eyes unclear.

We’d just moved our desks back into the regular position, and Mrs. Penley was talking about monologues that we were supposed to perform in the next two weeks. I was ready to just get the hell out of here and take Madman to the lake. Poor dog had been ignored lately with my work, school, and being gone on the weekends. Sometimes I took him with me when I spent time with Jax, but sleeping in my bed was usually the only time I got to hang out with him.

It briefly crossed my mind to see if Tate wanted to take him sometimes—give the guy some extra attention—but I pushed that thought out of my head right away.

We weren’t friends, and I wasn’t asking her for shit.

As if reading my thoughts, I noticed her shift in her seat, and I looked up to see her turned around, staring at me.

She blinked, looked down, and back up again like she was sad, lost, and something else. Something like regret or despair. Why was she sad? I narrowed my eyes, and tried to look away. I didn’t need to know what was going on with her.

“Now, class,” Penley spoke, her attention still focused on the piece of paper she wrote on. “Don’t forget that the anti-bullying assembly is on the twenty-ninth. Instead of going to first period, go to—”

Tate’s hand shot up. “Mrs. Penley,” she interrupted.

The teacher looked up. “Yes, Tate?”

“We have five minutes left of class.” Her voice was polite. “May I perform my monologue now?”

What the hell?

This project wasn’t due for a while, and everyone’s eyes, including Penley’s, bugged out.

What the hell was Tate doing?

“Um, well, I wasn’t expecting to grade anything yet. Do you have your essay ready?” Penley asked.

“No, I’ll have that by the due date, but I would really love to perform it now. Please.”

My teeth ground together.

“Okay.” Penley let out a reluctant sigh. “If you’re sure you’re ready…”

Great.

The last thing I wanted to do right now was look at Tate or hear her voice. Mostly because I knew it would be a struggle to not watch her.

Noise. Space. Distraction.

Slouching in my seat, I stretched out my legs and crossed my ankles. Picking up my pen, I pressed my pen onto my notebook paper and started drawing three dimensional cubes.

“I like storms,” I heard her start, but I kept my eyes trained on the lines I drew. “Thunder, torrential rain, puddles, wet shoes. When the clouds roll in, I get filled with this giddy expectation.”