AMY
I stood there, my arms crossed tight over my chest, my breath uneven as I stared at Pete. He shouldn’t be here. I knew it. He knew it. But, as always, Pete Stones did whatever the hell he wanted.
The cool night air brushed against my skin, but it wasn’t enough to calm the heat rising in my body.
I hated this. I hated him.
I hated the way he looked so damn calm, like showing up outside a college party was normal. Like texting me and knowing exactly what I was doing wasn’t insane.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “You don’t get to do this.”
Pete tilted his head slightly. “Do what?”
I scoffed, throwing my hands up. “This! Whatever the hell this is! You don’t get to follow me around and act like you—” I stopped myself, my throat tightening.
Like he owns me.
Pete’s lips
