Page 62 of Fight for Me
“But what if it does?” she insisted, turning until she could see his face.
“Well, then I guess we’ll stink.”
Lexie reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging just enough to show her annoyance with his blatant disregard for the danger they seemed to be in. The gesture only made Jake laugh harder. He kissed her forehead and then her cheeks, and Lexie could feel him smiling.
“If a skunk climbs up here with us,” he started again, his voice more serious, “I will sacrifice myself and give you time to get in the cab.”
Lexie smiled, warmth replacing the fear that had filled her.
“What if it’s a bear?” she murmured.
“Then you’re on your own.”
Lexie laughed and tilted her head back against his shoulder until she was looking up at the black sky. She blinked, and the heavens seemed to open up as countless stars arced across the void. The fiery streams crisscrossed each other, creating a web of light where there had only been darkness. In that moment, everything felt right. There was nothing but the two of them, suspended in space, existing all alone beneath a sky full of wishes.
Jake shifted, his arms coming around her from behind as he tucked his face against her neck.
“Lexie?” he asked, breathing her name against her skin.
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
I love you.
Lexie stared blankly at her printer as page after page of an advertising case study dropped into the paper tray, but she saw none of it. Instead, she was lost in thought, still picking those simple words apart in every conceivable way, trying to find the hidden meaning. But even after four days, she’d only succeeded in driving herself crazy.
Jake had said, “I love you,” and she had said... nothing.
Nothing important, anyway. Nothing he’d wanted to hear. Which had been painfully clear by the stilted way they’d watched the sky for another fifteen minutes before loading themselves awkwardly into the truck and heading home. They’d talked about owls, skunks, planets and the phases of the moon—anything she could think of except what was hanging heavy between them.
Jake hadn’t mentioned it since.
Lexie, on the other hand, was wracked with guilt. She’d said those words before, and while she’d believed them to be true at the time, they’d turned out to be nothing but wishful thinking. Was it a crime to want to be sure? She was allowed to think about it, wasn’t she? And how could he even say it, anyway? They’d only been together for a little over four weeks.
An obnoxious screeching noise sent her thoughts flying in all directions, and she groaned as she stared down at the printer.
“Come on,” Lexie muttered, pressing the restart button. She could usually ignore the “refill ink” notice for at least ten more pages, but this time it seemed to be legitimate. She picked up her smoothie and slurped noisily as she watched the printer turn off and back on without change.
Six pages. She only needed to printsix more pages, and now she’d have to go out and buy ink. She checked her watch. It was ten thirty on a Tuesday night. She only had half an hour before the local office supply store would lock up, but, thankfully, Cypress Valley was a small town with minimal traffic.
Lexie grabbed her keys and headed for the door, not bothering to change out of Jake’s hoodie and her soft flannel sweatpants. The hoodie was easily her favorite piece of clothing, anyway. It still smelled like Jake, despite the weeks she’d had it, and she dreaded the day it would finally need to be washed. Maybe she could ask him to wear it for a while afterward, or maybe she could swap it out for another one. That was, if he even wanted her to keep it after Friday’s debacle.
She was still obsessing when she pulled into the parking lot of the office supply store. It was the only building still open on this stretch of the highway, and the giant neon letters flickered ominously as she approached. The solitary figure behind the cash register looked up in surprise when the front doors slid open with a whoosh. Lexie gave a quick, apologetic wave.
“I’m sorry! I’ll be out in a second!” she called, hating to bethatperson who came in just before closing.
“Don’t worry. You’re not the last one,” the clerk replied, but Lexie was already moving quickly toward the printer ink. She scanned the shelves for the box she needed, finally finding it on the last aisle. But just as her fingers touched the cardboard packaging, a strange sensation ghosted over her—a cold prickle down the back of her neck, familiar yet foreign, all at once. She hugged the ink to her chest and looked cautiously around, but there was no one in sight.
Still, something felt off.
She made her way toward the checkout counter, glancing down every aisle as she passed and checking over her shoulder several times. But she saw nothing and no one out of place.
“Hello,” the clerk said as she approached. “Just this, then?”
“Yeah, late study session,” Lexie explained, distractedly pulling out her wallet. When the transaction was done, she stood at the counter for a moment longer, trying to figure out why she felt so strange. Looking around one last time, she decided she must simply be imagining things—the stress of her upcoming exam taking its toll.
A rush of night air greeted her as she made her way past the automatic doors. Her Infiniti sat quietly a few spaces away, and the interior lights glowed warmly when she pushed a button on her key fob. There was only one other car in the lot, a dark two-door at the very back, likely belonging to the sweet cashier she’d just met. Lexie shook her head, silently laughing at herself and her runaway imagination. But a moment later, there was a crunch of gravel, and Lexie spun sharply as a strong hand closed over her upper arm, squeezing hard in a too-familiar pattern.
