BEING JAMIE BAKER

Chapter 4

Ryan actually had the nerve to laugh at me as I stormed into my room and slammed the door in his face. I wasn't surprised when he let himself in behind me. Somehow I knew my overly dramatic tantrum wasn't going to work with him.

I flopped down on my bed with a book, preparing to ignore him as best as I could. I'd agreed to let him spend time with me, but I hadn't promised to entertain him. And I wasn't about to do anything that could give him the impression that I enjoyed his company, even if part of me did. The guy had a big enough ego as it was. He didn't need to add me to his list of victories.

He stayed quiet for a minute as he looked around my room, and then decided to just make himself right at home. He climbed up next to me on my bed, leaving a whole three inches of space between us.

"Do you mind?" I snapped.

"Yeah, a little"—Ryan chuckled—"but I'm dealing with it, so you can too."

"Well, if it bothers you so much—"

"I didn't say it bothered me. I'd just rather be closer, is all."

"Closer? Can you even get closer than you already are?"

I knew I'd put my foot in my mouth the instant the words escaped it, and Ryan didn't miss a beat in putting his arm around me and pulling me tightly against him. "Never ask a guy if he can get closer," he said, refusing to let me go. "The answer is always yes."

The way he clamped his hands together so that I couldn't push him away was playful, but I didn't think he was teasing when he shuddered. That's probably because I haven't been held by anyone in a really, really long time, and I reacted the same way I did when I kissed him. I guess it's not so much a superkissing ability as it is a case of superhormones.

Ever since I got juiced up by some knocked-over power lines, I'm more amped than a power generator. The fact that there was friction when Ryan touched me meant that it doesn't just seep to the surface when I get angry. I guess it's every time I lose control of myself in any way.

Obviously, that's not good, so when he shivered, I panicked, elbowed him hard enough to leave a bruise, and made my way across the room to the much safer single-person chair that sat at my desk. "You should have stuck with the compromise," I grumbled. "I probably wouldn't have moved if you'd kept your hands to yourself."

"It was worth it." He was laughing at me again.

"Why are you so annoying?"

"Why are you so compelling?"

It was useless. I was never going to win. He was much better at the witty comebacks than I was and a lot less easy to get flustered, so I gave up the argument. I was pretty sure getting on my nerves was what he was aiming for at the moment, so I figured not fighting with him would be a better tactic. I dropped the attitude and probably sounded a little bit desperate as I asked, "Why are you doing this? What exactly do you want from me?"

"Is it really so bad to have to talk to someone other than your parents?" he asked in all seriousness. "I don't want anything from you. Okay, no, that's a lie. I would love to make out with you again, but that's not why I'm here tonight."

"Then why are you here?"

"I just wanted to understand you. I couldn't imagine why anybody would exile themselves the way you do."

"Yeah, well, now you know. I killed my boyfriend, and my friends hated me for it. The whole town did, actually. People can turn on you and hurt you, even the ones who say they love you. I don't want to go through that again. It's that simple."

Ryan didn't say anything after I stopped talking. He just watched me, and I haven't felt that insecure in a long time. The silence made my heart race like a million miles an hour, and if I couldn't calm myself down I was likely to trip a circuit breaker in the house.

It wasn't exactly mature, but I chose hostility to cover up how vulnerable I felt. "Mystery solved," I said coldly. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't put any of that in your paper. Mr. Edwards likes to read things out loud, and I'd rather the student body kept calling me the ice queen instead of boyfriend killer."

"Of course not."

I was surprised by the amount of sincerity Ryan displayed, but then he smirked again. "I won't say anything," he teased. "But it wouldn't really matter even if I did, because everyone will be in so much shock over the beauty pageant thing that they won't even hear the end of my paper."

I couldn't stop myself from cracking a smile at that, and the way Ryan's face lit up when I did actually made me blush. "I don't suppose you'll consider leaving that part out too?"

"Not a chance." Ryan laughed. "I am going to have to figure out something to tell Mr. Edwards, though, because he's never going to believe I didn't just make it all up. I saw the pictures, and I can hardly believe it."

"Just tell him I wouldn't tell you what happened. He'll have no trouble believing that. It's the truth anyway. I didn't tell you. And I wouldn't have. My parents are the ones with the big fat mouths."

"Well, I'm really glad you stood me up then because it's a relief to have the real story."

"The real story?"

Ryan shrugged with a bit of a guilty smile. "I've been making my own up for weeks. I had myself convinced that you were in witness protection, and that you were hiding until you could testify against the inner workings of some vicious mob."

"The witness protection program?" I was smiling again. I couldn't help myself. "I guess that could explain the hair dye, but why was I connected to the mob?"

"A girl as hot as you? You were dating the boss's nephew, of course. You witnessed a violent crime, and when you got scared they threatened you. But you're tough, and your boyfriend was a big, murderous jerk, so you went to the cops anyway. And now here you are with your jet-black hair, hostile attitude, and distrust of basical