The Merciless Black List Of Highland High #1 | OUT MAY 30

3 | brad is waiting

"Rose.." My voice can barely come out past the lump that had formed in my throat. "It's okay to say it." I try to say as softly as possible, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of my own eyes. "You're such a beautiful girl, no one should ever treat you this way."

She's practically a stranger, I know nothing about her, but I know how important it is for her to hear those soothing words. I don't want to push her, so I try to remain as strong as possible for her but I can't ignore the fact that my hands are shaking on the steering-wheel now. Her gaze falls right there and I clutch the wheel with a bigger desperation in order to keep it cool. I'm not sure whether I'm having this reaction because I hurt for her, or hurt for myself.

Her mouth parts just as another tear runs down her cheek. "You really think that?"

The pain in my chest increases even more at the sight of the broken girl in front of me. She is beautiful. And strong. And even though I don't know her, I know she doesn't deserve to go through whatever Roger Simms is most likely putting her through.

Shakily, I reach one of my hands out and touch her hand, gently squeezing it. I know she needs reassurance and someone to be here for her now and that's exactly what I intend to do. "Of course I do. No one deserves to be treated this way, okay? You can do so much better."

I wish I could say more to her, but I'm afraid if I tell her too much, the message I am trying to deliver here will be the exact opposite. I have to choose my words carefully. More than anything.

"I. . . You don't even know me, Aspen."

I wonder how she knows my name since I've never officially introduced myself to her, but the answer isn't that difficult, I guess. After all, I'm the only girl currently playing for the Highland hockey team. I'm sure that's something most people that had been attending our games have noticed. Still, Rose doesn't strike me as a hockey-fanatic type of girl. I could be wrong though, and right now, even though my curiosity is getting the best of me, I know it's not the time to ask something as silly as that particular question.

"I know," I say, drawing my hand back to the steering-wheel. "But that doesn't mean that telling you how wrong is what Roger does to you is not true."

Honestly, I don't expect her to answer, so I'm not surprised when she remains silent. I drive past the street sign and light up the blinker, rounding the corner to Pine Street. I know she told me it's enough to drop her off anywhere here but I'm not about to do that. I need to know she comes home safe. "Can you tell me the number of your house or something please?"

She doesn't, but raises her hand instead. "It's that one," her tiny finger points to a small house crouched just a few houses away from us. All of the lights are switched on, soaking through the windows as if they were trying to make up for the shitty street lamp positioned in front of the building.

"Okay."

I switch off the engine once I pull over the curb in front of her house. She looks back and forth between the house and me, pursing her lips tightly together, before flicking her gaze to the fidgeting hands positioned in her lap. "Listen . . . what happened . . . never happened, okay?"

She's pleading. Her voice isn't giving anything away, but her big chocolate eyes say enough. This girl is asking me for a favor that's so, so wrong of me to keep, but I know it's not my business to go around telling her secrets. It's not my business, and as much as it pains me, maybe she has an actual reason why she refuses to do something to get out of this whole Roger Simms situation. A sick, twisted reason that I can't possibly comprehend, but a reason nonetheless. I mean, that could be a possibility, right?

Telling myself that, I inhale a deep breath before nodding my head. I know how wrong agreeing to something like this is, but if she's anything like me, then she won't listen to me, no matter how hard I press.