Chapter 9
1338 Words
I should’ve known peace wasn’t going to last long.
Because the next morning, I stepped out of my house expecting my dad’s car—
And instead found Landon Baxter’s McLaren parked at the curb like some kind of emotionally devastating jump scare.
I froze on the front porch.
Actually froze.
Like full deer-in-headlights, soul-left-my-body, no-thoughts-just-panic froze.
No.
Absolutely not.
There was no way.
No way he was here.
No way he was outside my house before school.
No way he was doing this to me at seven-thirty in the morning.
My front door creaked open behind me.
And then, because the universe clearly hated me, Nathan stepped out with a protein shake in one hand and a grin on his face.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Looks like Baby Nessa’s got herself a chauffeur.”
“Shut up,” I hissed without turning around.
Nathan leaned around me to get a better look.
“That’s a McLaren.”
“I know what it is.”
“That’s a very expensive way to ruin your life.”
I whipped around and shoved him in the shoulder.
“I am not ruining my life.”
He grinned wider.
“Right. And I’m not incredibly handsome.”
“Debatable.”
He laughed and took another sip of his shake while I turned back toward the street.
Landon was leaning against the driver’s side door like he belonged there.
Black hoodie under his uniform jacket.
Messy black hair.
Hands in his pockets.
Too relaxed.
Too pretty.
Too early.
When he spotted me, the corner of his mouth lifted.
And the worst part?
My stomach actually flipped.
Traitor.
I glanced around the neighborhood like maybe this was some kind of prank and cameras were about to come out.
“Why is he here?” I muttered.
Nathan made a thoughtful sound.
“If I had to guess?”
I looked at him.
“He wants to climb you like a tree.”
“Oh my God.”
I physically recoiled.
“You are disgusting.”
“And I’m right.”
Before I could verbally assault him further, Landon pushed off the car and started walking toward the house.
No.
No, no, no.
He could not walk up to my porch.
That made this too real.
Too visible.
Too dangerous.
I hurried down the steps to meet him halfway.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-yelled.
He looked offended.
“Good morning to you too, Grandma.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Landon.”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
I stared at him flatly.
“You were in San Francisco at seven-thirty in the morning?”
He shrugged like this was completely reasonable.
“My parents have a loft here, remember?”
Oh.
Right.
Unfortunately, he had me there.
Still.
“That does not explain why you’re parked outside my house like a teenage fever dream.”
His mouth twitched.
“That was weirdly specific.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
He leaned in slightly.
“I came to take you to school.”
My heart did something deeply embarrassing.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
His brows lifted.
“No, thank you?” he corrected.
“No, as in absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
Because you showing up at my house in a luxury sports car before school is the kind of thing that gets girls socially dissected before
first period.
Because your life and my life are not built to survive public overlap.
Because if people see this, they’ll talk.
And I already knew exactly what kind of girl they’d make me out to be.
Instead, I said, “Because people will see.”
Landon looked at me for a second.
Then, very quietly, he asked, “And?”
I blinked.
“And?” I repeated.
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “And?”
Like it genuinely didn’t matter to him.
Like gossip was just background noise.
Like being seen with me wasn’t something that needed strategy.
I hated how much that affected me.
“It matters,” I said. “People at your school already think things. I don’t need to hand them more material.”
Landon’s expression softened.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I don’t care what they think.”
I looked away before he could see how much that landed.
“Well, I do.”
A beat passed.
Then he smiled a little.
“Good thing I’m annoyingly persistent.”
Before I could argue, my mom appeared in the doorway.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
“Nessa?” she called. “If that boy is offering to take you to school, then please go. Your father’s running late.”
I turned so fast I nearly pulled a muscle.
“Mom—”
But she was already smiling in that deeply dangerous mother way.
The I know something you don’t know and I’m enjoying this way.
Nathan, of course, was no help.
“Have fun, lovebirds,” he called from the porch.
“I hate every man in this family,” I muttered.
“Noted,” Landon said.
I looked back at him.
He held open the passenger door.
And somehow, once again, I lost the argument with myself.
“Fine,” I said.
His grin was immediate.
“But if people talk, I’m blaming you.”
“Fair.”
The drive to school was quieter than yesterday.
Not awkward.
Just softer.
Sleepier.
The kind of quiet that only exists in the morning before the world fully wakes up.
Landon had music playing low through the speakers—some moody indie song I didn’t recognize but immediately liked—and the
city was still wrapped in that pale gray-blue light that made everything feel cinematic.
I hated how easy it was to sit beside him.
How natural.
How dangerous.
He glanced over at me at a red light.
“You look tired.”
I scoffed.
“Wow. Good morning to you too.”
He smiled.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. You can’t just tell a girl she looks tired before eight a.m.”
“You do.”
I gasped dramatically.
“Unbelievable.”
He laughed.
Then his expression softened.
“Did you stay up doing homework?”
I crossed my arms.
“Maybe.”
“Nessa.”
“It’s day three, Landon. If I slip now, I’m done.”
“You’re not going to be done.”
“You don’t know that.”
He looked at me for a second longer than necessary.
Then said, “You’re the kind of girl who makes things happen.”
And just like that, my entire body forgot how to function.
I looked out the window so he wouldn’t see my face.
“You say weirdly nice things sometimes.”
“I know.”
“Is it intentional?”
“Usually.”
I hated how much I smiled at that.
When we pulled into school, I felt the panic return instantly.
Cars lined the front.
Students everywhere.
Too many eyes.
Too much opportunity for disaster.
Landon parked like this was no different than any other morning.
Like his car wasn’t about to become school-wide gossip by second period.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to him.
“I’m serious,” I said. “If this starts anything, I’m haunting you.”
He leaned back in his seat, completely unbothered.
“Good. Then I’d never have to get rid of you.”
I stared at him.
Why was he like this?
Why was he allowed to talk?
Why did his face look like that while he did it?
I opened the door before I could say something stupid.
And the second my feet hit the pavement, I felt it.
Eyes.
Everywhere.
Wonderful.
Exactly what I wanted.
I shut the door and turned—
Only to come face to face with Kasey.
(Chapter Theme song: Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift)
- Writer
