Chapter Twenty-Five Tigerlily
My phone buzzes with another message in the Eng Lit group chat.
Did anyone finish the Barthes reading?
I stare at the text, dread growing in my stomach. I didn’t.
Someone else chimes in.
Wait, we needed the second edition?
There are no extensions.
My stomach drops.
I’ve been putting this off for weeks. Ever since I found that box in the garage with Mom’s old things—photos and letters and a necklace I’d never seen her wear. It sent me spiraling for days. I couldn’t focus in class, couldn’t take notes, couldn’t do anything but replay every memory I had of her.
Now I’m three weeks behind on a project worth thirty percent of my grade, and I don’t even have the book.
I walk across the house to my dad’s bedroom and knock twice.
He opens the door. “What?”
“I need to go to Barnes.”
“Why?”
“The library doesn’t have the book. It’s checked out, and I need a specific book for a project. I kept putting off this really big project, and it accounts for a lot of my grade. I need to grab the book tonight, so I have enough time to read it and turn it in. Can I go to Barnes right now?”
Zinnia appears behind him in the hallway. “Can I come?”
“No, Zinni. I need to make this fast.” I turn back to my dad. “Dad, I’ll make it fast. I can even pick up dinner on the way home.”
He studies my face for a long moment. Then he pulls out his wallet and hands me two twenties.
“Make it fast. Zinni, do your homework.”
“Aww, come on. But I want to go,” she whines.
I grab my purse and keys before he can change his mind. I get into the car, open the garage door, and back out as fast as I can without looking suspicious.
My heart’s already racing before I even reach the end of the driveway.
I tell myself my dad won’t notice if I accidentally go the wrong way. Barnes & Noble is to the left, but I go right. I just need to test a theory.
I scan the cars on the side of the road. Silver sedan. Black truck. White Honda.
Then I see him.
His car.
And there Jax is inside it. Zephyr too.
Not smiling. Not waving. Just watching.
Our eyes meet through the windshield.
My stomach flips and heat floods my chest.
I shouldn’t feel relief.
I do anyway.
They’re still watching me every night. Butterflies crawl around my stomach when I see Jax pull onto the road behind me.
He doesn’t tailgate, doesn’t ride up on my bumper or flash his lights or do anything aggressive. He just stays close enough that I know he’s there. Far enough that I could lose him if I wanted to.
He’s not chasing me.
“Shit,” I whisper to the empty car.
He’s three car lengths behind me.
By the time I reach Barnes & Noble, my hands are shaking.
I park near the back of the lot and cut the engine. I sit for a second trying to pull myself together. Then my door opens.
“You shouldn’t be out,” Jax says.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say back.
We stare at each other. The air between us feels electric. I step out of my car and lock it, glaring up at him.
I hate that everywhere I turn, he’s always there. I hate it. I also hate that I like it, that it makes me feel better.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper.
He doesn’t ask what I mean, just steps out of my way.
I glance across a few parked cars and see Zephyr. I glance at the car. There’s no Callum.
My chest tightens.
Jax follows me into the bookstore but keeps his distance. He stays a few aisles over and pretends to be browsing.
But I feel his eyes on me.
Every time I look up, he’s already looking.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my messages until I find the group chat. I find the book title.
Death of the Author by Roland Barthes.
I walk to the literary theory section, find the book, and hold it in my hands without really seeing it.
Then I start wandering, moving deeper into the store. I walk past bestsellers, past young adult, and past self-help.
I keep scanning the room, looking for anyone who I might recognize.
But my eyes keep landing on Jax.
And every time they do, my heart plummets.
I make my way to the back corner. The furthest row from the entrance. Poetry and classics.
I lose sight of Jax for a minute.
Then he finds me again.
We casually browse the books, slowly gravitating to each other. I look at the books on the right, he’s looking at the left.
I take another step to the side, and my shoulder bumps into his.
He glances down at me.
I don’t meet his eyes. Instead, I watch his chest rise and fall. Once. Twice. Then I look up at him.
He’s staring at my lips.
The tension between us is so thick I can barely breathe.
I look at his lips. His nose. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his hair falls across his forehead.
I can feel his body heat radiating through the small space between us.
He isn’t looking at anything else but me.
I’m vibrating. Every nerve ending on fire.
I lean against him. Just slightly. I rest my head on his shoulder.
Like he means something to me.
Like I’m not breaking every rule my father set.
Jax doesn’t move.
One breath.
Two.
Then his hands pull me into his chest.
I melt under his touch immediately. My cheek presses against his shirt, and I hear his heartbeat racing just as fast as mine.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
This doesn’t fix anything.
But I don’t want him to let go.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if I’m okay or what happened.
He just holds me.
His hand stays firm against my back. Like he’s decided I’m not moving anywhere without him. Like he’s claiming me in the only way he can right now.
I close my eyes, breathing him in. I let myself have this moment even though I know I’ll pay for it later.
His hand stays firm against my back—like he’s decided I’m not moving anywhere without him—I know I’ve already crossed the line I was told not to.
My phone buzzes in my hand. When I glance down, I see that my dad texted me.
Dad: Did you find the book you needed?
My blood runs cold. I inhale, feeling my fingertips tingle. I turn to Jax, who’s reading my face like a book. I storm out of the aisle, glancing around the store. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. And then I walk to the checkout.
“Find everything okay?” the cashier asks.
I nod, handing over the twenty-dollar bill. Jax walks out, and my heart keeps racing. I watch him for a moment.
“Having a good day so far?” the cashier asks.
I nod, reaching for the change. “Thank you.”
I grab the book and leave the store. Jax and Zephyr are talking to each other, ignoring me. I get into my car and drive away, checking my mirrors for them. I hope they don’t follow me home.
Taco Bell is along the way, so I sit in the drive-through, waiting for my turn to order. I can still smell Jax, feel his strong arms around me. An ache starts low in my belly.
“Welcome to Taco Bell. How can I help you?”
“Can I get a Mexican Pizza, Crunch wrap Supreme, and Nachos, please?”
“Yeah… Does the screen look correct?”
“Yes.”
“Pull forward.”
I drive to the window and hand over the other twenty-dollar bill. She hands me the food along with my change.
On the drive home, I’m looking in my mirrors constantly to look for Jax and Zephyr. Luckily, they’re not following me.
When I get home, I close the garage door and walk into the living room. I place the Taco Bell bag on the table and call out, “I’m home.”
Zinnia comes out of her room after I set up the table.
I walk over to my dad’s bedroom door and knock. No response.
“Where’s dad?” I ask Zinnia as she starts to eat her nachos.
She shrugs as I look around the house, confused.
Then my dad walks in the front door. I notice he’s a little breathless, but he corrects himself immediately.
“Where were you?” I ask, looking back at the door.
“The hose needed to be fixed.” He walks to the kitchen to wash his hands and then he sits at the table, opening up his Crunch wrap supreme.
It’s quiet as we eat, except for the crunch from Zinnia’s nachos.
“Did you get the book?” my dad asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
He chews the food in his mouth, leaning back. After he swallows it, he says, “Next time…” He eats more food. “Turn left. It’s faster.”
I blink up at him as he takes another bite of his food.
Suddenly, my appetite is lost. He breaks eye contact for a moment, but he doesn’t need to stare at me to prove his point.
My gut twists.
What does he know?