Page 8

“No, I’m good. I gotta drive.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so

, buddy.” Martinez came up behind him and put his arm around his shoulders. “What do you say I give you a lift home?”

Blake tried to think of a reason why that wouldn’t work, but his brain was too fuzzy. “Fine, it’s not like there’s anything left in my car to steal.”

“We’ll stop by it, just to make sure. Say good night, Blake.”

Their group hollered good night, and Blake wasn’t surprised when Jane slipped him her number. When they reached the top of the stairs, Blake tossed it in the trash.

Martinez gave him a thoughtful look. “I take it you’re not interested?”

“No.”

Martinez didn’t say another word until they reached his car. Blake grabbed his duffle out of the trunk and tossed it into the back of Martinez’s SUV. He climbed into the passenger seat, the cold sobering him up slightly, and grumbled, “It’s colder than a witch’s tit, man. Turn up the heat.”

“Dude, you turn into a caveman when you drink.” Martinez cranked up the heater, and Blake sighed back into the seat.

“I’m sorry, man. I know I’m being a jerk.”

“If you know you’re doing it, then why don’t you stop?” Martinez backed out of the parking space, and the sway of the car made Blake’s stomach turn. He must have groaned aloud, because Martinez glanced his way and warned, “If you puke in my car, you’re cleaning it up.”

“I’m not going to puke.” At least, he hoped not.

He thought about Martinez’s question as they drove down the street toward the freeway. If you know you’re doing it, then why don’t you stop? He wasn’t sure, really. Maybe he was just a jerk who wanted to make everyone as miserable as he was.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he struggled to pull it out, his vision blurry as he stared at the screen.

Hey, it’s Hannah.

He could hardly read the rest of her message, something about book titles, but by the time Martinez dropped him off, his cheeks were aching.

“Dude, why are you grinning like that? It’s fucking creepy.”

Blake climbed out of the car and said, “Because I’m going to go inside and order something called Blitzing Emily.”

“The fu—”

Blake shut the door before Martinez could finish his sentence and climbed the stairs to his apartment. He kept hearing this high-pitched whistling noise as he opened the door and realized that it was him. He wasn’t a whistler.

As he flopped onto his back on the bed, he stared up at the screen of his phone, her number right there.

Don’t do it.

Before his brain could firmly process what he was doing, he had pressed the green phone icon.

Chapter Three

HANNAH WAS CURLED up on the couch in her Scotty dog flannel pajamas watching the newest episode of Pretty Little Liars when her phone rang.

At first, she ignored it, sure it was Nicki wanting to rip into her again for being a bum on the date, but then she realized that wasn’t her friend’s ringtone.

It was “Have a Nice Day” by Mindy McCready. The ringtone she’d assigned to Blake that morning when she’d put his number into her phone.

Diving for the phone with the desperation of a bear after a fish, she slid her thumb over the screen quickly. “Hello?” God, she sounded as if she was panting.

“Did I wake you?”