Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CADENCE
Next morning, the slam of Drake’s bedroom door wakes me.
I’m groggy from broken sleep and my confused brain thinks he’s just arrived home, then I hear him on the stairs and check the time on my phone.
Seven-thirty. Fifteen minutes until my alarm. He must be going down for his morning swim.
I roll onto my back, rubbing my eyes, feeling more exhausted than when I clambered into bed, ruined by another night of fitful sleep. Each confrontation with Drake leaves me in a worse mental state than the last and it’s not like I’m seeking him out. If anything, he’s deliberately putting himself in my way.
My nerves yearn for something to soothe them and this the most rested I’m going to feel all day.
The idea of sneaking into Drake’s room recurs. I could find my pills and escape without him knowing. Judging from his disturbing conversation yesterday, he still has them.
But I don’t know how long he’ll be gone and the thought of getting caught, of being treated like he treated me yesterday is disturbing. I opt for a long shower instead, washing away the detritus littering my head until I’m relatively calm.
Then I step out of the shower and the first thing I see is Drake’s words on my chest. They’re fading but far too slowly for my liking.
Irritated, I grab covering foundation from the makeup drawer and lay on a thick coating. Out of sight, out of mind.
The easy fix puts me back in control and I’m whistling by the time I get dressed, heading downstairs with a light step. Where I bump straight into Drake heading in the opposite direction.
“Morning,” I say, pretending he doesn’t bother me while my nervous system rattles.
He grunts, moving past without a glance in my direction and I check my phone again. Three minutes past eight. Thirty-three minutes since he left.
It’s plenty of time to get into his room, perform a cursory search, then leave. Tomorrow morning, I could set a reminder alarm for twenty minutes and be out of there with time to spare.
“Good morning,” I say, taking a seat across the kitchen table from Arnold, smiling at the thought we look like a sitcom family.
“Coffee?” Mum asks and I nod, kissing her cheek as she passes me a cup. Arnold hands her the daily dose of pills from the organiser, and she tosses them back with a glass of water. “I can’t believe how easily I fall asleep here. The salt air must be working some magic.”
Something is certainly working magic on her. Five years of worry lines have melted from her face in just a few days.
Then Drake enters, bumping the back of my chair as he walks past. The move raises the hairs on the back of my neck, and I pick up my phone as a distraction. It immediately buzzes with a text.
HUDSON
Leaving in two minutes. You want a lift?
CADENCE
Yes, thanks!
“Gotta go,” I tell Mum, draining the last of my coffee and grabbing a slice of toast.
“At least butter it.” She frowns across the table at Drake. “Aren’t you travelling together?”
“No,” I answer before he can say a word. “I’m getting a lift from a friend.”
Arnold glances up from his screen. “Any reason?”
Drake walks to the window, scowl already in place. “Is that why the douchebag from next door is in our driveway?” His voice tightens. “Didn’t he get enough of you yesterday?”
“You’ve got a boyfriend?” my mother asks, excitement building in her voice.
“A friend,” I correct, shuffling towards the door. “Hudson Carter. You saw him on Saturday when he let me ride behind him on the jet ski.” The last words are tossed over my shoulder as I hurry out the door.
“Trouble?” Hudson asks as I get into the car. “I was about to send in a search party.”
I roll my eyes. “I spent most of my life with no one taking an interest, but this morning, everyone suddenly wants to ask a thousand questions.”
“Bollocks,” he says, reversing out the driveway and heading down the winding hill road.
“What’s bollocks?”
He shoots a charming sideways glance that has me blushing before he says a word. “The idea that no one’s taken an interest because I’ve been plenty interested from the moment I set eyes on you.”
The sickly-sweet phrase is immediately followed by a snort as Hudson rolls his eyes.
“Man, that sounded so much smoother in my head. Just ignore me… or pretend I said something devastatingly seductive.” He reaches across to press lightly on my knee.
I put my hand on top of his, waiting for a frisson of excitement to follow. Warmth spreads from his touch but that’s all. When he pulls away to put both hands on the wheel again, there’s no difference.
An uncomfortable sensation bubbles in my chest, accompanied by a low shiver of fear. Hudson is a real sweetheart. I try to think of anyone else who would have stopped to check if Drake and I were okay and can’t.
With his sunny good looks and gentle manner, he’s lovely. It disturbs me that his touch does nothing, yet the bully across the hallway treats me with disdain, and I get shivers.
My mother has a penchant for mean men.
I hate to think I’ve absorbed the trait by osmosis.
When we reach school, I take Hudson’s hand before he reaches for mine, linking our fingers. If an attraction to Drake’s darkness is a learned behaviour, about time I started rewriting that internal code.
“He really doesn’t like you,” Gretchen says at lunchtime. She appears amused by the observation as Drake saunters past, a grimace his only acknowledgement. “Did you steal his weed stash or something?”
“Maybe he hates blondes,” I say with a shrug, realising my error the second the words escape my mouth. “Not you, of course.”
Ugh. If there was a reward for conversational fumbles, I’d be leading.
Hudson walks through the door and I perk up, waving him over to our table.
“Got a crush on the gingernut, do you?” Rox observes, eyes twinkling at the prospect of gossip. “You gotta be careful with boys from large families. They get awfully needy.”
It’s not my experience.
If anything, Hudson seems far too responsible and independent for his age. But I notice a few sideways glances from the rest of the table as he hauls a chair over to sit next to me.
“Not there,” Gretchen snaps. “I’m saving that seat for Flick.” She waves a hand at the next table over. “You know the rules. Boys aren’t allowed.” When I raise my eyebrows, she elaborates. “Otherwise, we have to constantly watch what we’re saying and who has the time or energy for that?”
It seems to me the problem isn’t him being the wrong gender but being the wrong boy. Her eyes check on Drake every few seconds despite him ignoring her.
To be fair, he ignores everybody in his orbit. If he has friends, they’re not in this school.
We move to the next table over and Hudson gives me a rundown on every pupil in the cafeteria I haven’t yet met. His tone is light, but I can feel his eyes lingering on me when I focus on my plate. His foot finds mine under the table, nudging it gently while his smile broadens.
With the bell fast approaching, I take my tray to the bin, emptying the scraps into the green waste. Someone bumps me as I finish, and the plate tips towards me, spotting tomato sauce and mayo across my chest.
“Watch it,” I snap, spinning around to see Drake’s smirking face an inch away from mine.
“Oh, I fully intend to keep watch,” he says, admiring the stains from his handiwork before his gaze slowly crawls high enough to lock to mine. “Expect my eyes to be on you every minute of the day.”