Page 5

NYLAH

I turn to say goodbye and spot Carson running down the path like he’s just found out I have Ebola or rabies or something.

What the fuck?

Frowning, I watch him disappear behind a group of students and try to shake off the nasty weight that’s suddenly lodged in my chest.

I thought we were having a good time together, but I must have misread that one.

Shaking my head with what has now become a sad smile, I try not to think about the fact that he likes old movies the same way I do.

I’ve been an odd duck (Mom’s term, not mine) when it comes to my taste in movies and music. Grandma always used to tease me that I was born in the wrong decade. “You’re a child of the ’90s whether you want to be or not.”

She was always happy to accommodate me. The number of DVDs she brought around when she moved in with us for a few months after my accident was ridiculous.

The fact that we didn’t even own a DVD player made it even funnier.

So, what did she do? Gramma Harris went out and bought one.

And we sat for hours on the couch, watching old movies while my body slowly recovered.

She was a lifesaver.

Heading up the last few steps, I limp my way to class, pulling out my phone and texting my favorite female in the whole wide world.

Me: ’Sup, old lady? Miss your face.

By the time I’m taking a seat, I’m getting back a string of LOLs, emojis, and a GIF of Joey Tribbiani asking me, “How you doin’?”

I smile and type back.

Me: About to start my anthropology class. What are you doing today?

G-Dawg: The Big G and I are playing golf today. Gonna kick his ass on the fairways. Can’t let the ol’ boy think he’s better than me at something.

I bite my lips together to stifle my laughter.

Me: I miss you! When are you coming to visit again?

G-Dawg: When are you coming to visit me, girl? I can’t be expected to do all the traveling. You better get your butt down here sometime soon. It’s a real pretty drive.

I balk and shake my head.

Me: It’s nearly a 7-hour drive. Are you crazy? And I can’t afford to fly right now.

G-Dawg: The drive would do you good.

She follows it up with a GIF of Queen Latifah telling me to go out there and slay.

I roll my eyes and wrap up the conversation. She’s always telling me to get behind the wheel again, but…

Squealing brakes, shattering glass, and the crunch of metal whip through my mind—stinging, haunting memories that turn my insides to granite. My muscles tense as I try to ward off that harrowing chill of what it felt like to open my eyes and realize I was trapped in a metal coffin.

I should have died that night.

I spent hours thinking I would.

And then I woke up in a hospital, surrounded by weeping family members and in so much pain that I wished I was dead.

But Gramma wouldn’t have it.

She took my bruised face in her hands and told it to me straight. “You take your next breath, girl. You hear me? And then you take another, because it ain’t over. You’re not allowed to die before me.”

And so I took my next breath.

I lived through the pain of recovery… and somehow, I survived the pain of losing my life yet still being alive.

I’d had it all planned.

Stanford with Nick.

Going away to college, living my best life and being stupidly happy. We’d talked about how it would all play out. He even mentioned kids one day. He always thought ahead, living five years down the road. He had a ten-year plan for us, and I was there for it. Every step of the way.

But then Nick turned out to be the world’s biggest dick.

Because he took one look at me in that hospital bed and couldn’t handle the change of plans.

So, while I lay in traction, he boarded a flight to Stanford and sent me an email—a fucking email —telling me how he didn’t think things would work out after all. He made it sound like he was doing me this huge favor by ending things.

Prick.

My insides simmer and boil the way they always do when I let myself think about him. He was so perfect—good-looking, intelligent; everybody loved him. A true gentleman… until we all realized he was nothing but a selfish coward.

Slipping my phone back into my bag, I pull out my laptop and try to chase away memories of his strong arms and the way his hands roamed my body, his full lips kissing my neck, his Old Spice scent wrapping around me.

I shudder, opening my notebook and getting myself organized.

I don’t want to think about Nick the Dick right now.

And I definitely don’t want to think about driving to Albuquerque to visit my grandparents. I haven’t been behind the wheel since I crashed Nick’s car, and I’m not about to start my big debut back behind the wheel with a seven-hour drive. Besides, my parents would never let me.

You’re almost twenty! You don’t need their permission.

I cringe and rub my forehead, checking the clock and worrying my lip as I desperately wait for the professor to show up and start teaching. I need the distraction.

Tapping my thumb on the edge of my laptop, I let my mind wander back to Carson for a minute…

and my lips instantly tug into a smile as I think about his grumpy ass.

Oh man, that cute frown of his, the way his hair sticks up like he only ever brushes it with his fingers.

I kinda like his scrappy look. There’s a hard edge to him that I should seriously not find appealing, but he’s just so different from…

Nick the Dick.

Carson doesn’t seem to give a shit what people think of him, and there’s something very refreshing about that.

Which you shouldn’t actually care about, because that boy obviously isn’t interested in you. He didn’t even say goodbye this morning.

Shaking my head, I let out a relieved sigh when our professor walks in and starts the lecture without even greeting us.

I shuffle in my seat, homing in on her enthusiastic voice and drowning out the rest of the world. I don’t need to waste my time on guys who like to play disappearing acts on me. I’m worth more than that.

All I care about right now is how humanity has evolved. And today, I can travel back in time and hang out with some cool-looking Australopithecus and find out how they were wired to survive in a world that seemed determined to take them out at every turn.