Jessie Kensington thought she had escaped her troubled past when she faked her death and started a new life as Violet Arrowood. But three years later, she finds herself at Vanguard University on a scholarship, trying to build the future she always d...
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The past few days have dragged on painfully slowly. I managed to convince the headmaster to give me a makeup essay and if I don't ace it, then I'll be forced to get a tutor. Ever since my date—if you can call it that—with Ty, I've consumed myself with school, and reading and "helping" Clara with her final fashion project for the term— anything to distract myself from the gnawing fact that I haven't heard from him. Not once. No texts, no calls. I even sent him a text that has gone unanswered.
I know I'm not the exactly experienced in the dating/boy department—especially not in the kissing department—but was I really that bad? Was I so awful that he would kick me out and never speak to me again? Am I not enough? There's this hollow ache in my chest and stomach, like my insides have rearranged and my heart isn't where it should be... and it hurts, it hurts a lot.
I haven't asked Clara if she's heard from him; I don't want to be that desperate girl. But I hate feeling stupid. Stupid for thinking he cared, stupid for believing he actually liked me—for me.
My fingers trace the memory on my kips, still feeling the lingering warmth... but the tension of our goodbye and sting of his words is just as fresh as his lips on mine. Maybe I should send another text, just to check if he's okay. I reach for my phone on the bedside table, my fingers hovering over the keypad when there's a knock at the door. I quickly smooth my hair and try to look presentable before opening it. I take a deep breath as my hand hovers over the door handle and when I swing the door open. My breath catches in my throat.
It's not Tyler.
"Tate?" I manage to say as he steps into my room, holding a large bouquet of flowers.
"Look, I'm really bus—"
"I won't take up too much of your time. I just got back from my trip and was bringing Clara these flowers." He pushes them toward me. "Do you think she'll like them?"
I look at the sea of white petals."Yeah, sure." I say, my stomach churning at something.
"It's funny," he continues, his voice casual and conversational, "I've never actually bought flowers for anyone before. Well, that's not entirely true. I bought flowers for a friend once, it was when his dad died. He wanted something for the grave. So, I guess what I mean is, I've never bought flowers for a girl before." Tate walks over to the window, resting his arm on it and gazing outside like he's looking for someone. "I bought these flowers from a sweet old lady in my hometown. It's actually where my friend lives, the one whose dad I bought flowers for."
His rambling makes me nervous. It's not that he seems anxious— more like he seems to be prolonging something, playing with his words like a cat with a mouse. I just don't understand why.
"If you want my advice on the flowers, I think—"
"It's not too far from here!" He cuts me off. "I know you're new to the area, but maybe you've heard of it?" He lifts the flowers to his face and inhales deeply, a grin spreading across his face. "Have you ever been to Lysbourne?"
