FROM THE AWARD-WINNING AUTHORS OF THE CHEATER.FAKER.TROUBLEMAKER SERIES (WATTY'S 2016, FICTION AWARDS 2016, HACHETTE AUDIO 2017), JENNY ROSEN & KRISTEN MAGLONZO.
After bullies, braces, and brutal heartbreak shatters his faith in love, soon-to-be fre...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Note: Check out another dramatic audiobook recording by kaelking12!
CHAPTER 10
Elias
Josh never lets the doorbell ring twice.
The guy's a born runner and for as long as I've known him, he's always sprinted to the door to let me in. His dad says that if he wants to make varsity in freshman year that he better answer the door as fast as he does fifty-yard suicides.
But sometime after the sixteenth ring, I start wondering if I'm at the right address.
Tanner's halfway to swim practice by now, so calling him to come back and get me is out of the question. Even if I did, I wouldn't want him to see me like this. It was hard enough to make it through the car ride here without losing it.
And, now, I'm so wired from Trish's text I'm about to kick down the door or jump the fence just to get a blunt between my lips.
Another five.
Ten.
Fifteen minutes go by without any sign of Josh or Marcus anywhere.
J's phone's ringing to voicemail. Marcus's car is gone.
And I'm about thirty seconds away from accepting the reality that I might have genuinely gone crazy.
Is this how it happens?
Is this how people end up slipping into bad habits just to stay sane?
'Cause I'm losing my grip on things.
I'm aching for a high to make things seem okay when I used to not needing anything to be okay.
But right now I need something to save me so I don't have to keep trying to pick apart what parts of the last twenty-four hours were real.
The fight with Dad.
The night with Nikki.
Seeing that girl.
I shut my eyes and rewind back to the sound of her laugh, and the same warmth that exploded across my chest then makes a second appearance.
That happened.
So did Josh's phone call. So why the hell isn't he answering now?
I lean back against his wide mahogany door, grip the sides of my jeans, and try to squeeze the tension out of my muscles, but nothing helps.
I need to move.
Standing still's starting to feel like sinking, so I step off the concrete stairs, slide into the bushes, and stare into the front window to see if there's anybody alive inside the house.
