Page 19 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

Grayson: Please. Let’s not act like people weren’t calling Amanda names. I didn’t see Danny boy doing anything about it

Kainoa: Oop??!?!! Explain yourself, Danny!

I glance out the window to see if Josie has arrived, but she hasn’t yet.

I did check up on Amanda after I heard what people were saying about her.

Despite what she did, I wasn’t a dick, but things changed when I found out she willingly recorded herself having sex with Bryson.

And it wasn’t just a one-time thing. She’d been hooking up with him for a while, sending him pictures, sexting him while we were in the same room.

Me: I have nothing to explain. She didn’t care so why should I? And I just don’t want anyone fucking with Josie. Are we clear?

Grayson: Yes sir

Kainoa: Aye aye captain

Angel: Anything for you papi

Noah: So how much are we betting? I give it three months.

My jaw falls slack, but I don’t have time to read the rest of the messages as Josie parks next to me. When she climbs out, I follow suit, grabbing my camera, the envelope, and my hiking bag.

I slip the strap over my head, letting my camera dangle from my neck as I stand next to her. “Hi, Jos.”

“Hey, Garcia,” she says as we all gather in front of Professor Carleson.

I try to focus on what he’s saying but her being this close to me numbs all my senses, even dulls the ache in my middle knuckle.

Something about that makes me smile wider because standing next to her, as I inhale her lavender and vanilla perfume, I feel better about punching Bryson.

Now my only regret is not having punched him a second time.

Once Carleson stops talking and gets a head count, he makes way into the trail, with everyone following behind him. Like last time, Josie and I are all the way in the back.

“So guess who was very pissed off this morning?”

She peers up at me, a twitch in her cheek, and like all the times she’s done that or remotely smiles, I document it and store it in a filing cabinet dedicated to her in my head.

“Did he accuse you?” She winces.

“Yeah but no worries, my roommates backed me up so he doesn’t suspect it was me.”

“That’s good because you didn’t do anything. It was all m?—”

I shake my head, shushing her up. “No, we don’t know who did it. I was home black-out drunk and you stayed with Pen that night.” I give her this look and she slowly nods, pressing her lips together.

“Right, right. I was with Pen and you were black-out drunk. Right.” She gives me an okay sign, her eyes shining with mirth.

Dios, no tengo suficientes palabras para explicar qué tan hermosa es. “How’s your finger?”

“It’s all right.” She lifts it and twists it, showing me the small cut.

“You’re not cutting limes or lemons, are you?”

She huffs a laugh, dropping her finger. “I’m not a cook. So no.”

I meant to cook breakfast for her, a thank you for letting me stay the night but Grayson called me freaking out because he lost his Audemars Piguet watch. I had to go help him find it.

I’m about to bring it up but then I notice her gaze drop to the envelope in my hand.

“This is for you.” I hand it to her.

She stares quizzically at the black envelope with my sloppy handwriting. I practiced writing her name on something else before I wrote it, but it still looks like shit. I’ll definitely do better next time. “What’s the special occasion?”

You being alive. You being here. You letting me in. You.

I want to say all of this, but I don’t know how without making her feel uncomfortable.

“The new year,” I supply instead, tucking my hands in my pockets because what they really want to do is reach out and hold her.

The confusion deepens on her face, but when she opens the envelope and pulls out the card, her lips faintly quirk up and I feel fireworks go off.

I did that.

I want to capture it with my camera, but I don’t want to make it weird.

I made her a card. On the front of it, there’s a yellow duck with a black top hat, black shades, gold leis around its neck, and a gold fringed noisemaker hanging from its beak.

Next to it, it says, Have a Quacking New Year!

On the inside, the duck looks like it’s passed out drunk, feet up in the air, and on the other side it reads, Here’s to making more bad quacking decisions!

Happy New Year! Underneath that I wrote, And to making new friends. You can call me Danny now.

She softly chuckles. Holy shit, I made her chuckle.

Breathe. Calm down. She just chuckled. No big deal. No. Big. De—fuck, she chuckled.

I did that.

“You drew and colored this?” Her voice is in awe, fingers tracing over the duck’s webbed feet.

“Yeah, sorry about the handwriting. I know it’s shit.”

“You think this is sloppy? This is probably the prettiest handwriting I’ve ever seen.”

My face heats.

“Why a duck?” Her gaze casts down, fingers now tracing over the letters.

“You said you like yellow and the duck is yellow and well…you know the card is a given.” I’m speaking too fast. I need to calm down.

“I do like yellow, and the card is something else. Thank you, Garcia.” She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t have to because I feel the warmth in her eyes. They’re not hardened or vacant. They’re just brown, the prettiest brown I’ve ever seen.

I click my tongue, sighing in feigned disappointment. “So, we’re still not on a nickname basis?”

“It’s not a bad thing, it’s…” Her words are cut short when she spots the little Post-it note I stuck in the envelope.

Her breathing hikes and she falters in her step before she resumes walking after she’s done reading the little note.

She folds it in half before she tucks it in her black belt bag instead of the envelope.

“We should talk about what day or days will work best for you.”

I don’t hold it against her for not saying anything about the note. I know how hard it is for her to open up, to feel safe, to surrender her will to not doing it all alone. I know and I understand but I don’t voice that, I just smile at her and nod.

I’ll be here whenever she’s ready.

But if she’s not, at least she knows I’m here because that’s what I wrote.

I’m here for you. I see you. You’re not alone. I’m so happy you’re here, Jos!