Page 45 of Almost Rotten

I blink back tears. I don’t want to cry today. Not here. Not now.

Plastering on the best fake smile I can manage, I lift my gaze and offer her a quizzical look.

“Yeah?”

She presses her lips together, concern clear in her perfectly arched eyebrows. Her pretty brown eyes dart back and forth.

I hold her gaze—hold my ground—and lean into the stoicism and iron shields I’ve used to protect my secrets for years.

“Are you okay?” she asks, point-blank.

“Couldn’t be better,” I quip, dropping into a squat and rifling through the bin of hockey tape under the counter. “I’ll let you know if I need anything,” I add, not bothering to peek up to see if she buys my pretense.

The only reply that reaches me is Cam’s audible sigh.

I blow out a breath, wipe away the tears from my eyes, and sniffle.

Then I tell myself to get it together and get on with it.

I’m not okay, but I’m here.

Everything is awful, but it’s no one’s problem but my own.

Chapter eighteen

Sawyer

The short drive to the orchard is painfully awkward. Ty and I are silent in the front seat, and the two students in the back are engaged in quiet conversation.

The groups assigned to setting up parameters and planning and executing the logistics of the game design are meeting for a few hours to get the final details squared away.

The event is happening less than two weeks from now. I would be nervous if I wasn’t utterly distracted by the turmoil that’s taken over my personal life.

Mercer won’t be here tonight.

At least I don’t think he will be. I was too anxious to reach out and confirm.

Noah, undoubtedly, will be around. The only time he’s ever not here is when he’s out with Mercer.

Then there’s Tytus.

Tytus, who has insisted I stick by his side while we’re here.

Tytus, who has no reason to suspect there’s anything going on with Noah and me. I fully intend to keep it that way.

But between his paranoia and hypervigilance, I wouldn’t be surprised if he figures it out, and that terrifies me.

I can’t let Noah get me alone tonight.

To make matters worse, Ty’s ire has yet to dampen like I thought it would.

If anything, he’s growing more agitated every day.

Rather than cooling off, our predicament only seems to be heating up.

And I don’t know how to pivot. I don’t know what to say to Mercer or how to even begin to untangle the mess I’ve made.

“We’re here,” I declare with false bravado as I pull into the parking lot. “Let’s plan to meet back at the car in two hours. Text the class chat if you get held up or need more time.”