Saved By A Bad Boy

[10]. So This Is Awkward...

Okay so here's a tip: If, by chance, your best friend since preschool ignores you for over ten months because you failed to tell him that his mother was dying from cancer, you should not yell at him in the parking lot of a county clerk's office, you should not break into the library of his mansion, and you definitely should never--under any circumstances--reach out and try to grab his junk.

Trust me, it'll only end in disaster.

I have never endured something as painfully humiliating as this. And you should know that I've endured a lot of painfully humiliating things in the past. Let's just say that I am not built for any social interaction whatsoever. It'd probably be better for me to find a nice cave somewhere and stay there forever.

Or, you know, just die.

I couldn't die, though, because my mother wouldn't know what to do with herself, and I couldn't risk her falling back into the type of depression where she needs a man to fill the void. Because we all know how that worked out last time. And I would not let my mother run back into the arms of anyone like Troy, or--even worse--Troy himself. I shuddered just thinking about it.

At the moment, I was standing on the balcony of one of the Maxwell's guest bedrooms, the same one I used to break in last time. Because today, I'd be breaking in again. This might just be another stupid thing to add to the long list of stupid things I've done, including dating Ryan Thompson in eighth grade and almost clinging to my ex-best friend's joystick, but I had to know why Chloe left me a blank photo album...and there was no way I would ever ask Jax to help now. You know why? Because I almost grabbed his bratwurst, that's why.

So, as I stood here with the empty photo album in one hand and a bobby pin in the other, I prayed and hoped that Jax wasn't here again. I didn't see his car, but...

That didn't mean I was safe.

Still, this appeared to be my only option, so I took a deep breath and twisted the bobby pin in the lock until I heard the audible click. I then turned the doorknob and walked briskly inside, making a sprint for the library.

I quickly marched up the stairs and once again was met with the elegant double-door entrance that stood as a passageway into a million worlds. The library.

My library.

Well, almost my library.

I stepped inside, still clutching the blank photo album in my hands. My body was instantly drawn to the far back, where I would have to begin my journey. If Jax's mom was trying to give me a thrill by sending me on a mystery that involved looking through the thousands of books she stored in her library, I am afraid to tell her that there was not many things thrilling about it. But I was determined to do this, no matter how many hours or days or weeks it took.

Book by book.

I would do this.

So, with a plan in mind, I went to the end of the large room and began scanning every book I picked up. I won't describe the details in fear of putting you to sleep, but I will say that the most exciting thing had been looking back and realizing that I had gotten through an entire ten-foot section of the back shelf. Brilliant.

While I searched endlessly for anything--a slip of paper, a photo, a note--my gaze finally slid to one of Mrs. Maxwell's absolute favorite books: To Kill a Mockingbird. Even though it was almost ancient, Jax's mother could read it cover to cover in less than a day. I thought that--for sure--she'd have had to left something in there.

My fingers graced over the worn and well-loved book as I pulled it carefully off the shelves, my eyes wandering over the cover. Dang, I missed her.