okay.
But my mind won’t stop focusing on the ones I wouldn’t have wanted him to see. My heart starts pounding and my brain is whirling with the worst possible scenarios. Unable to stop them, my eyes fill with tears. In horror I watch, close up, him see me like this.
Closing my eyes, I pretend this isn’t happening, that he isn’t here, and that I’m not a gigantic dork. Reilly is filming inside so that escape route is a big fat hell no.
“Killer.”
I need to get out of here. I can’t think around him. Jumping up, his hand slips from my knee as I make my way down the steps to the back pathway that leads to their side gate.
“Kacey, stop!”
Shit. He followed me. Why on earth would he follow me? Rule number one in the what-to-do-when-witnessing-a-dork-freak-out is to not impede the escape of said dork.
Shaking my head, I try to ignore him. Once the gate is in sight I quicken my pace, breathing a sigh of relief when my hand grips the latch. Giving it a pull, my heart stops when it does not budge. What the? My eyes slide over the latch and then freeze. Since when did this gate have a lock on it?
Craning my neck, I gasp when I see Jake coming toward me.
Undaunted, I turn back to the gate and scramble over it, lifting my head to look at Jake once I’m halfway over. He’s rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging open as he stares at me.
That didn’t happen.
That didn’t happen.
That didn’t happen.
No matter how many times I say this to myself, I do not believe it. What the hell was I thinking? It was just my friggin luck to completely screw up an escape.
Real mature, Kacey. Exactly the type of behavior a balanced twenty-eight-year-old woman would show. God, I climbed over their gate, scratching the crap out of my arm and probably flashing Jake my ass as I did it.
Moving far, far, away is an option at this point. Along with dying my hair and maybe undergoing some serious plastic surgery.
When I get home, I head straight for my bathroom to wash the angry scratch on the inside of my arm and smooth some antibiotic cream on it.
Once all threat of death via scary flesh eating virus is abated, I steel my nerves and check my phone. Not long after my getaway, it started dinging in my purse.
Unlocking my screen, I’m not surprised to see a handful of texts and missed calls from Reilly. What did surprise me was the text and missed called from Heath.
Shit.
Quickly, my eyes scan Reilly’s texts first. The first one asked me what happened, the second why I left, the third told me to come back, the forth said she didn’t know I’d be upset over Jake seeing the clips, and the fifth said she was sorry.
Apparently, Jake filled her in between the first and fifth texts as to why I freaked out.
Why did I freak out? Is it really so bad Jake saw those videos?
Now, standing in my bathroom with a gunked up arm, I realize I may have overreacted a bit.
There were only a few videos I’d die of embarrassment over Jake seeing and there’s no way Reilly would have sent him any of those. Inhaling a long, calming breath, I hoped that she wouldn’t anyways.
It would be later, not over a text message or a phone call that I would ask her exactly which ones she sent. Her voicemail was a string of apologies saying that she only wanted Jake to see her and didn’t think it would piss me off. Tapping out a reply, I told her I was home and needed an hour or so to cool off.
Heath’s text message was next; all it said was hey are you okay?
One thing I like about Heath is he doesn’t abbreviate words over text, typing out okay instead of ok. His voicemail let me know he was heading over to Reilly’s grandparent’s house to pick up both Reilly and Jake since I had been their ride and ditched them. He also told me that he was dropping Reilly off and taking Jake back to his place, but they would both be back over later to hang out. He wanted to know if I wanted to cancel the get-together we planned at the pizza place and lastly,
But my mind won’t stop focusing on the ones I wouldn’t have wanted him to see. My heart starts pounding and my brain is whirling with the worst possible scenarios. Unable to stop them, my eyes fill with tears. In horror I watch, close up, him see me like this.
Closing my eyes, I pretend this isn’t happening, that he isn’t here, and that I’m not a gigantic dork. Reilly is filming inside so that escape route is a big fat hell no.
“Killer.”
I need to get out of here. I can’t think around him. Jumping up, his hand slips from my knee as I make my way down the steps to the back pathway that leads to their side gate.
“Kacey, stop!”
Shit. He followed me. Why on earth would he follow me? Rule number one in the what-to-do-when-witnessing-a-dork-freak-out is to not impede the escape of said dork.
Shaking my head, I try to ignore him. Once the gate is in sight I quicken my pace, breathing a sigh of relief when my hand grips the latch. Giving it a pull, my heart stops when it does not budge. What the? My eyes slide over the latch and then freeze. Since when did this gate have a lock on it?
Craning my neck, I gasp when I see Jake coming toward me.
Undaunted, I turn back to the gate and scramble over it, lifting my head to look at Jake once I’m halfway over. He’s rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging open as he stares at me.
That didn’t happen.
That didn’t happen.
That didn’t happen.
No matter how many times I say this to myself, I do not believe it. What the hell was I thinking? It was just my friggin luck to completely screw up an escape.
Real mature, Kacey. Exactly the type of behavior a balanced twenty-eight-year-old woman would show. God, I climbed over their gate, scratching the crap out of my arm and probably flashing Jake my ass as I did it.
Moving far, far, away is an option at this point. Along with dying my hair and maybe undergoing some serious plastic surgery.
When I get home, I head straight for my bathroom to wash the angry scratch on the inside of my arm and smooth some antibiotic cream on it.
Once all threat of death via scary flesh eating virus is abated, I steel my nerves and check my phone. Not long after my getaway, it started dinging in my purse.
Unlocking my screen, I’m not surprised to see a handful of texts and missed calls from Reilly. What did surprise me was the text and missed called from Heath.
Shit.
Quickly, my eyes scan Reilly’s texts first. The first one asked me what happened, the second why I left, the third told me to come back, the forth said she didn’t know I’d be upset over Jake seeing the clips, and the fifth said she was sorry.
Apparently, Jake filled her in between the first and fifth texts as to why I freaked out.
Why did I freak out? Is it really so bad Jake saw those videos?
Now, standing in my bathroom with a gunked up arm, I realize I may have overreacted a bit.
There were only a few videos I’d die of embarrassment over Jake seeing and there’s no way Reilly would have sent him any of those. Inhaling a long, calming breath, I hoped that she wouldn’t anyways.
It would be later, not over a text message or a phone call that I would ask her exactly which ones she sent. Her voicemail was a string of apologies saying that she only wanted Jake to see her and didn’t think it would piss me off. Tapping out a reply, I told her I was home and needed an hour or so to cool off.
Heath’s text message was next; all it said was hey are you okay?
One thing I like about Heath is he doesn’t abbreviate words over text, typing out okay instead of ok. His voicemail let me know he was heading over to Reilly’s grandparent’s house to pick up both Reilly and Jake since I had been their ride and ditched them. He also told me that he was dropping Reilly off and taking Jake back to his place, but they would both be back over later to hang out. He wanted to know if I wanted to cancel the get-together we planned at the pizza place and lastly,
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