Page 10

"Good night."

I close my eyes and drape my arm across Tate's chest, and he rubs small circles in that place right behind my ear with his thumb until I fall asleep.

two

Particularly Cruel

Noah

Warm sunlight against my cheek wakes me. I force my eyes open as I lace my fingers with Silas's, oblivious in my exhaustion that there's anything wrong with this picture.

Until I'm not.

My heart stops as I look toward the clock on the wall: 8:45 AM.

I'm supposed to leave in fifteen minutes.

"Shit! Shit—get off me. I have to go!"

"What?" Tate groans, stretching his arms overhead before propping himself onto his elbows. "Why are you yelling?"

"Youwere supposed to set an alarm. You were supposed to wake me up; Mia's going to kill me."

He grabs his phone from the side table. "Ah, fuck. Sorry—my phone died."

Sensing my panic, he runs a hand through his tousled hair before resting it on my shoulder and giving me a reassuring look. "Hey, it's okay. She's probably still asleep; she's barely gotten out of bed the last couple of weeks as it is."

He's right—he's probably right. If she were awake, she'd be looking for me. And most days, shehasbeen too depressed to get out of bed.

"Will you check?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'll go check."

I lie back against Silas just before the bedroom door flings open hard enough that it bounces off the wall and hits Mia's body as she steps into the room.

"What…the fuck?!" she shouts. "What the fuck is this? What iswrongwith you?"

Too shocked to answer, I can only stare back at her.

I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me.

"Mia…get out," Tate says.

"You'redisgusting.Here," she directs at me before throwing my phone at my face. My nose crunches when it hits, and I cover it with my hands as blood pours over my mouth and down my chin. "Your alarm went off."

"Oh, shit. Are you okay?" Silas asks as Mia storms off. "Let me see it."

"No!" I shrug him off, tears stinging my eyes. "Don't touch me!"

As the only one fully dressed, I jump out of bed and race after her.

"Mia, stop! I'm sorry!" I shout, chasing her down the hall and into the living room.

"You're fuckingsick. I mean…I knew you liked Tate; I suspected, but this is just pathetic."

"Mia, please don't be like this!" I cry. I grab her arm with one of my bloody hands, and she quickly shoves me off and into a bookshelf, knocking a few of them loose. I cover my head with my arms as they rain down on me.

I don't know if she meant to do it, but she looks satisfied with the result—enough so that she pulls her fist back and drives it into my left eye.