9. Prom Night #2
"And why not?" He slides his arm around me, pulling me closer as we pass under another streetlight.
"Because what if something happens to you? I don't want you getting hurt because of me." My tone stays light, but I mean it. "I couldn't handle losing you."
We reach the front of the ice cream shop, and he turns to face me, his grin softening into something more tender.
"And now you know why I walk on the streetside," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Same reason you don't want me there." I never thought a debate about walking positions could make me melt, but apparently, I was wrong.
Laughter from the crowd floats to where we stand and his gaze flicks past me.
"Hey, don't leave my side tonight, okay? "
I glance over and know without words what he's asking.
I have a feeling the jacket is part of his petition.
The day I saw that man watching as I walked into my house, I immediately called him on the phone.
He doesn't want me to stand out and catch unwanted attention.
I lighten the mood and use his words. "Where you are is the only place I want to be. "
He smiles, and no sooner than we turn the corner, Sydney has spotted us from a table right near the front of the shop.
"Lanes!" she squeals, bouncing off the table and all but mowing me down for a hug.
"You came. When you didn't text me back, I assumed you were…
" she trails off, remembering London is holding my hand.
Then, with a wicked smile, she says, "Occupied.
" I can feel the flush in my cheeks, but London keeps a poker face as though he has no idea what she's suggesting.
She rolls her lips and changes the subject. "Noah was crowned prom king and?—"
"Do you want me to get you an ice cream before they close?" London interrupts.
"Yes, please, vanilla with confetti sprinkles." His eyes scan the crowd, and he looks between us and the front window. "Go, I'll stay right here. You'll literally be three feet away."
He kisses my cheek, and then his mouth skates slowly to my ear, sending a shiver throughout my body.
I'm suddenly grateful to be wearing his jacket, because I know my nipples are standing at attention, remembering exactly where that mouth was not long ago.
"You better be right where I've left you, heartbreaker. "
London has barely stepped out of earshot when Syd pulls me close.
"So spill. What happened? Did you guys get vertical or what?
" My face gives away more than words ever could.
"Oh my god, you did!" She slaps my arm. "I'm so freaking jealous.
It's prom, and I have no desire to smash anyone here," she says dispiritedly, and I can't help but feel responsible.
It turns out that the reason Noah caught wind of going down on the deck regarding the bet Fisher, Cooper, and London made was that her then-boyfriend, Justin, blabbed a conversation he had with Cooper to Noah.
Justin and Cooper both played baseball for the Mustangs, and I guess as rumors floated around about what went down that night at the party—my near drowning and London's rescue—the bet came up.
Needless to say, Sydney cut ties right away without question.
The Downs take confidence very seriously, and knowing someone close to her who was supposed to care for her broke it was non-negotiable.
Family comes before all else; you cross one, and you cross them all.
"Syd—"
"Don't. We've been over this. You did me a favor. Besides, we're about to be free of this small town and the dusty, used, entitled, wannabe men that live here."
"Do you have to go to Kentucky? Tell me again why you can't study with me at Stanley. "
"Because the tracks are in Kentucky, and that's where Dad wants me."
When Sydney told me her family's money comes from horse racing, my mouth hit the floor, instantly assuming they must have ownership in Churchill Downs, the most well-known track in the United States, given their surname.
However, she quickly enlightened me that most tracks have the name Downs, as the word refers to the track's terrain.
Her last name is a happenstance, though horse racing has been part of her family for generations.
They own three tracks in Kentucky and one in Florida.
Another detail I found interesting is that in Willow Creek, they don't even own a horse.
Apparently, they used to have horses here, but before she was born, something happened, and her grandfather sold the horses and the land here.
Of course I wanted to ask what happened, but I could see the shadows that crossed her face when it came up, so I left my curiosity at bay.
"One vanilla ice cream with sprinkles," London says, sneaking a cup in front of me from behind.
"Thank you." I take the cup, and he steals the spoon. "Hey." I turn around, and he sticks it in his mouth with a big smile.
"Sorry, it looked too good. I had to try it."
"You messed up," I say, swiftly snatching the spoon. Then, with deliberate slowness, I dip for a fresh scoop and bring it to my mouth. "I bet it would have tasted better on my lips."
"Eww, oh my god, you guys need to get a room...seriously," Syd taunts.
"I like how you think, Syd," London says with a smirk. "In fact, if you could convince my girl, we'll leave right now."
Sydney rolls her eyes. "I was getting ready to leave when I saw your truck pull in. The better after-party is starting up at the lake house, so I'm heading over there."
London pulls out his phone. "Is Fish going? I texted him when I got in this evening, but I haven't heard back."
"Yeah, the dipshit jumped in the pool with his phone in his pocket when he got home from the airport. His new one arrives in the morning."
She hops off the bench and chucks her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm parked that way. You guys going to come?"
"Umm." I drop her gaze and try to find words. She's my best friend. I don't want to lie, but I also don't want to ditch her invite for a guy. That's equally as shitty.
"God, just go," she groans, rolling her eyes dramatically as she backpedals. "But for God's sake, wrap it up. I'm not ready to be an aunt."
London drapes his arm over my shoulder. "You heard the lady. Let's go," he says quickly, stealing another bite of my ice cream.
"Yeah, let's go," I say, taking one last look at everyone before we head out.
Besides Noah, there isn't anyone else I care to catch up with, and even that will have to wait.
Even though London and I are exclusive, there's still bad blood between them, and the last thing I want is to ruin his night or ours with futile drama.
London opens the door of the truck for me to slide in, but before I manage a step, I'm yanked back against a hard chest, and a gloved hand is covering my mouth to stifle my scream. It takes London mere heartbeats to recognize the nightmare unfolding.
"LET HER GO!" he roars, eyes blazing with terror and rage, as his fists clench at his sides, ready to fight.
That's when I feel something press into my side.
"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," a male voice scrapes against my ears—gritty, deep, and hoarse, sounding like a man who sucked down a pack a day his whole life.
If the menacing gravel in his tone wasn't enough of a giveaway, the sickening stench of tobacco seeping from the leather glove pressed against my lips would betray his identity.
Recognition hits me like a physical blow—it's him, the drifter, the shadowy figure whose eyes I felt boring into my back just days ago as he stood motionless at the end of my street, watching, waiting, memorizing, before I disappeared behind the door .
"Do you want money?" London pulls his wallet from his back pocket and tosses it at our feet. "Take it. Just let her go."
"If I wanted money, there's a slew of unlocked cars and unattended purses around the corner," he answers with a snicker.
"Then what do you want?" London pats the front of his jeans. Finding his keys, he reaches into his pocket. "Take my truck. You can have anything you want…" he says vehemently, chest heaving, tossing the keys with his wallet. "But you can't have her."
"I have what I want," he snarls, yanking me backward against him as ice-cold terror floods my veins, while hot tears begin to stream down my face as my heart hammers in my chest.
This is all my fault. I put myself on his radar.
I challenged him when I should have just ignored him.
I should have walked into my house like I didn't see him.
He takes another step, and I lose my footing.
A muffled cry escapes as his arm tightens around me, and the barrel of his gun presses harder into my side.
"Don't." London lunges forward with desperate courage, ready for battle, only to freeze mid-stride as cold reality strikes him. His fists remain clenched, but he knows they are useless against a gun. "Don't take the girl," he pleads.
"What are you going to do, boy?" The question slithers from his lips as his pocketed hand swivels toward London with unmistakable intent.
London raises his hands in defense, his defiance taking a hit, but he doesn't relent.
"And what about you?" He licks his lips, his panicked gaze flicking between mine and my abductor.
He's stalling. "We saw you on the way in.
You don't have a car, and I'm not going to let you walk away with my chief. "
London's gaze locks with mine as I battle the violent tremors consuming my body.
Through the fog of terror and adrenaline, a crucial realization breaks through: he didn't say "my girl," he said "my chief.
" My eyes widen with sudden understanding.
He gives me an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation.
I have his chief. I'm wearing his jacket, which means I have a weapon too.