Page 106 of Trailer Park Princess

Those green eyes lock onto mine across the quad, and I see the exact moment recognition hits. Her expression shifts from confusion to surprise to something I don't even fucking know.

She rises slowly to her feet, staring at me, and I know I should leave. Should disappear back into the shadows where I belong.

But my feet won't move.

She walks toward me with purpose, and every instinct I have screams to run. But I'm grounded to the spot, watching her approach. A giant wolf frozen in the presence of a doe.

"Tank?" she says softly. Apprehensively. She stops a few feet away, close enough that I can smell her perfume. It smells like cotton candy, pink and sweet and soft, just like her. "What are you doing here?"

I don't sign.Can'tfucking sign.

My hands feel like lead weights at my sides.

"If you're going to stalk me," she continues, and there's the slightest quirk of amusement on her lips now despite the sadness there, "you might as well do it out in the open."

Not stalking,I finally manage to sign.Watching.

"There's a difference?" She tilts her head.

I give a stiff nod.Yes.

She crosses her arms, one hip popped out in that tight plaid skirt that barely covers enough to be legal, let alone follow whatever dress code this university has in place, studying me with those X-ray eyes.

As a kid, I used to be terrified she really could see through my mask, but she never ran away screaming, so that theory went out the window.

"Kade sent you."

I nod again. Easier than explaining that I would've been here anyway. That I've been here every day since she started, keeping watch from a distance because the thought of her being unprotected makes my skin crawl.

"Right." She glances around the quad, and I see her doing the math. See her realize what I already know. "You can't be seen with me. Not here."

I sigh and nod again.

The gears are turning behind those summer green eyes. "Wait here," she says suddenly, already turning away. "Don't move."

She disappears into the student union building before I can protest. I stand there like an idiot, drawing more stares from passing students. A girl with purple hair whispers something to her friend, and they both giggle nervously while looking at me.

I'm used to it. The stares. The whispers. The way people react to someone who looks like me. But it still stings. Still makes me want to retreat to the garage and lose myself in engines and metal.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. I'm starting to consider if she's ever coming back when she emerges, two ice cream cones balanced in her hands.

What the fuck?

She gives me a pointed look over her shoulder like she wants me to follow and disappears into the wooded path that leads away from campus.

And I follow her. Of course I fucking do. I've been following her for four years. What's a few more minutes?

She leads me down a path that winds through trees toward the river. The sounds of students fade behind us, replaced by birds singing and leaves rustling. It's quieter here. Private.

Dangerous, because this is the polar fucking opposite of staying away from her.

We reach a small clearing by the water, and she sits on a fallen log like she's done this before. I'm sure she has. This feels like the kind of spot you find when you need to escape from the entire world.

"Sit," she says, patting the space beside her.

I hesitate. The log looks plenty sturdy enough for her slight weight, but I'm not exactly built for delicate seating arrangements. Still, I lower myself down carefully, leaving space between us so I don't accidentally touch her.

She holds out one of the cones. They're both pink. "Strawberry. It's still your favorite, right?"