“Oh my God, I need to get home. I can’t be late.”
She pulls her seat belt on and I start the engine, navigating carefully off the granite mountain, not wanting to drive too fast because it’s dark and I’m not that familiar with the trail.
I can tell my slowness makes Addie anxious, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Once I finally hit the paved road, I increase my speed, concentrating on the road, trying to ignore the uneasiness resonating off of Addie in giant waves.
The tension is off the charts—and not the good kind either. She keeps checking her phone, looking at the time and sighing. To the point that I’m a little irritated.
“I’m driving as fast as I can,” I tell her, my voice tight as I turn onto the highway so fast, my tires squeal.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s just—my mom is really strict when it comes to my curfew.”
“It’s pretty early.” I feel her glance over at me. “Eleven thirty on a Saturday night? You’re almost eighteen.”
“It’s normally midnight, but I had to compromise with her tonight.” She doesn’t explain further, and I don’t ask. “What’s your curfew?”
I shrug. “I don’t have one.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t stay out that late, and if I do, I end up staying the night wherever I’m at. A friend’s house, or up at Bayshore. You know what it’s like,” I explain.
“My mom doesn’t trust me,” Addie admits. “And I never do anything, really. I mean, well…”
Addie’s voice trails off and if she goes into detail about anything she’s done with another guy—Jonah—I’m going to lose it.
Thankfully, she doesn’t.
“We did something tonight,” she finally says. “And I’m going to be late. I’m giving her reasons not to trust me for once in my life.”
“Why doesn’t she trust you?”
“I don’t know,” she says, but I can tell.
She does know.
She just doesn’t want to tell me.
Which is cool. Whatever. Though it kind of hurts, that she doesn’t trust me enough to confess why.
By the time we pull up in front of her house, it’s eleven-thirty-five and I’m feeling pretty good that I got her home only five minutes late. I had to do it driving pretty fucking fast, which probably wasn’t the smartest thing, but hey, I got her home.
“I have to go. Goodnight.” She’s reaching for the door handle, ready to bolt, but I stop her by placing my hand on her shoulder. She turns to look at me, her eyes wide and full of worry. “What?”
I kiss her, because I can. Because she’s mine. “Text me in the morning, okay?”
Addie nods, visibly swallowing. “Okay.”
“Goodnight, Adds.”
Her smile is faint, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They’re still full of worry. “Night.”
She’s out of my car in an instant, and I watch her head up the walkway and enter her house. Only when I know she’s safely inside, do I pull away from the curb and drive home.
With a smile stretched across my face the entire way.
TWENTY-TWO
ADDIE
I sneak into the house as quietly as possible, shutting the door so slowly, it barely makes a sound. I slip off my shoes and head for my room, the house so quiet it’s almost eerie.
Only when I’m in my bedroom, do I feel like I’ve made it free and clear, and I close the door, leaning my head against it for a few seconds before I reach for the lamp on my dresser and flick it on, gasping when I see someone sitting on the end of my bed.
My mother.
“You’re late.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, hating how rapid my heartbeat is. How suspicious she looks. “And I was only five minutes late.”
“According to my phone, you’re ten minutes late.” She thrusts her phone out toward me, showing the screen where it says eleven-forty at the top. “Where were you?”
“We just—hung out.” I shrug one shoulder, purposely vague.
“You didn’t answer my question. Where were you?” she repeats, her voice rising.
“We went up into the mountains with some friends and checked out the view.”
“What friends?”
“Tori and Dom. They’re dating.”
“Dominic Devito?”
I nod. “Yeah. He’s Beck’s best friend.”
“I know his mother. She’s very nice.”
“You know Beck’s mother too. And she’s very nice.” Exhaustion suddenly hits me and I push away from the door. “Are you done with your questioning? Because I want to go to bed.”
“I know you were up on Rattlesnake Mountain,” she says.
I stop in my tracks. “What, you were spying on me?”
Stupid Find My Phone. I shouldn’t complain. At least she doesn’t have one of those tracking apps on me, so she’ll know my every move, including how fast I’m driving when I’m in my car.
“I like to know where you are. That you’re safe.” Her gaze is intense as she watches me. “Are you sure you were with friends? Or was it just you and Beck up there?”
I try to keep my expression impassive. “We were with friends.”
She rises from the bed and walks toward me, stopping directly in front of me. “You weren’t alone with him, doing something you’re not supposed to?”
“Mom.” My cheeks go warm. “This is so freaking embarrassing. Seriously, nothing happened. We just hung out.”
“I just worry about you, sweetie. I know Beck is a nice boy, and it sounds like you like him a lot. But be careful. Don’t move too fast. You have all the time in the world for a serious relationship,” she says.
If she only knew how fast we moved tonight. She’d freak out.
No way can I tell her. She’d put me on lockdown and I’d never be allowed to see Beck Callahan again.
“I understand,” I say softly. “And don’t worry. I do like Beck, but we’re taking it slow.”
That was probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told my mother.
I sleep like the dead, finally waking up around ten, feeling groggy. I grab my phone to check my notifications to see I have a text from Tori and one from Emma in our group text thread.
And a Snapchat from Beck.
I check his first, smiling when I see his photo. He’s shirtless and sleep rumpled and oh my God, he’s so adorable first thing in the morning. I stare at the photo for a while, drinking him in, wishing we were in bed together, so I could snuggle close to him and breathe in his spicy male scent.
His caption says, good morning.
Taking a quick selfie, I caption mine the same and send it to him, then check my other messages.
Emma: Marcus and I worked it out. He came over last night and we had a long talk.
Tori: Yay! I’m so glad! Dom took me to the movies last night, but we didn’t watch it.
I ignore Emma’s text because, let’s be real—they’re going to argue again and split up. I can almost guarantee it.