Page 17 of The Tomorrows After You
“Cherry doesn’t particularly care for me, Rodger,”I warned.
“Sorry, you’re the only one out in the field and if you’re driving back on 79, you should drive right past the ball field.”
I closed my eyes. It was only a jump. It’d be easy. It’d be quick. I quirked an eyebrow in Nicolette’s direction, asking if she minded.
She rolled those obnoxious gray eyes and shrugged her shoulders before fixing her annoyed gaze out the window.Little pain in the ass.
“Alright, be there in five.”
“Great, thanks, Riot.”He clicked off.
I froze. I held my breath. Nicolette took a sharp breath in. I stared out the front windshield like my life depended on it.
“You…”her voice dripped with venom,“are Riot Asher?”
I didn’t turn my head, but I could tell she gaped at me, glaring daggers at the side of my head. I stayed silent.
“Why did you tell me Riot was away for the week?”she asked but the tone of her voice told me she already knew the answer.
I stayed silent. She scoffed again and threw herself back into her seat, small waves of that blonde hair dancing across her bare shoulders as she shook her head.
“Wow, you are a real piece of work…”she muttered. The anger bubbled up my throat, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.
“Can you blame me?”I asked.“You’re a reporter, no?”
I whipped my head in her direction, and she narrowed her eyes, hesitating as if trying to figure out how to answer that.
Let the lies begin.
She opened her little pink, heart-shaped lips but snapped them shut. She looked nervous. Caught. I clucked my tongue and shook my head, surprised by my disappointment.
“Right.”I moved my focus back to the road.“Just like all the others…”I muttered.
“You don’t even know me—”
“And I don’t care to!”I interrupted whatever she was going to follow up with. The quick, wounded look on her face sent a pang of shame through my chest.
She’s a reporter, don’t get soft now.
Her expression fell to something resolute, and our eyes met, tangling for a minute like two tigers circling, each waiting for the other to attack. She nodded once and frowned, acceptingthe fact that I didn’t want to know her.
I expected her to push. To defend herself. To try to get a rise out of me so I’d say something newsworthy. That’s what all the others did when the soft approach hadn’t worked.
But not Nicolette.
She sat back in her seat and turned her whole body away from me, looking out the window, not saying a word for the rest of the ride. Guilt snaked up my throat. I found my hand drifting halfway across the cab, eager to apologize for the shitty words my mouth had spoken. But before I reached the warm heat of her skin, I pulled my hand back.
When I pulled into the ball field, I spotted Cherry’s bright red hair next to her Chevy Tahoe.
I hopped down from my truck, ignoring Cherry’s abhorred gaze but it was impossible to ignore her reaction. Her audible gasp wasn’t subtle. She turned away, pulling her phone out, angrily tapping the screen with those venomous fake nails.
My eyes wandered to the passenger mirror to see if Nicolette was watching Cherry’s reaction. Not only was she watching, but she had rolled the window down to better examine the exchange. My chest tightened when I met her eyes, squinted in my direction, and my face burned.
Great, theonewoman in the entire town who, not onlyhadn’tbeen afraid of me but hadn’t been afraid topissme off,would now start ostracizing me like the convict I was too.
“Why…him… here… Rodger,”I caught only a few angry words Cherry Mitchell was hissing into the phone.“....kidshere.“I rolled my eyes. It’s not like I’d killed a child… A shiver went down my back, remembering the look in my first cellmate’s eyes. Hehadmurdered a child. And there I was, sharing a room with him, no better or worse.
Equals.
