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With a lot of pleading, begging, and bribing, I convince Enzo to help me move one last time

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With a lot of pleading, begging, and bribing, I convince Enzo to help me move one last time. That run in with Owen and Hannah made the decision for me. I'm just going to have to suck it up and learn to co-exist with Jamie. 

My parents aren’t thrilled about this development, but even they can’t argue with my horrible track record. I promise them I just need a little more time to figure things out, and find somewhere to live that won’t threaten my life or bank account. I tell them I’ve even got a new job, although I leave out the part where it doesn’t pay anything. I also agree to help with the selling process by going through the horde of stuff that’s been collecting dust in the attic for ten years. That seals the deal.

It’s a nice day for moving, and I take that as a good omen. Early June in St. Martin’s is when you get those sixty-five degrees and sunny days that I live for. As Enzo, Amanda and I pull into the driveway, we’re greeted by a bright blue sky full of puffy clouds and a fresh lake breeze that plays with my curls and flutters under my jacket collar. I’m so glad to be back on the island again.

“You know Enzo,” I say as I shut the truck door, “I really just needed your truck. Amanda and I can move these boxes ourselves, so if you want, you can head back now.”

Aunt Meryem’s old furniture never got moved, so I left my old bedframe, dresser, and mirror in storage at my parents’ house. I figured I’d do everyone a favor and not make us carry them up a flight of stairs for the seventh time. 

“Using me for my vehicle?” Enzo clasps his chest like he’s hurt. “Nah, I’ll stick around a while.”

Is it my imagination, or does he glance at Amanda when he says that? Interesting.

The garage door opens, and Jamie comes out with a ladder in tow. My instinct is to turn away and ignore him, but the girls said that hiding is a sign of weakness. Instead, I try out that look Ciara was teaching me. Icy. Terrifying.

Jamie doesn’t even glance my way.

“Hey Enzo,” he says, on his way towards the back of the house.

It doesn’t feel like a sign of weakness when he ignores me. It feels very cool and uncaring and annoying. 

Enzo left his keys in the center console, so while he and Amanda open up the tailgate, I hop into the driver’s seat and start the truck up again. It’s an old enough model that it doesn’t have Bluetooth, but I don’t mind. I hit Preset 5 on the radio. Once, it played Enzo’s favorite local rap station. Now it’s tuned to Fly 105.5: Hits of the 90’s and Aughts! 

An old Sugar Ray song blasts over the speakers, which Enzo and I both like to turn up as loud as our ears can stand. I leave the door open when I get out and the music projects all through the yard.

“Lissa!” Jamie shouts, from somewhere I can’t see. “Turn that trash off!”

Ha ha. Score one for me.

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