Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Hollie
Nineteen years old
“Hollie, this is sketchy as hell.”
I laughed and shoved Garrett’s shoulder as if that was ridiculous, but my insides tingled with apprehension. I had debated showing him this place at all. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t really want to, but I’d sneaked here so many times that he was starting to ask questions.
Where were you? Who were you with? Why were you gone so long?
When I tried to explain that I liked dancing behind the bowling alley, he thought I was lying.
He even went as far as accusing me for sneaking around with Lee.
Lee Pope—the kid from my troupe I hadn’t seen since I graduated high school.
When he said that, I made the mistake of laughing, which blew the conversation out of proportion.
It was so ridiculous that I had no choice but to bring him here and prove myself.
But the frown on his face as we pulled around to the back made my stomach pitch. He shook his head as he followed the side of the building. “I really hope this is some kind of joke. You can’t seriously dance back here.”
“Why not? It’s just as good a spot as any.”
“Because there’s drug addicts right in that neighborhood.” He pointed through the windshield to the line of houses beyond. “You’re going to get raped back here.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Come on, Garrett. I’ve been here dozens of times and I’ve never seen anyone else. It’s perfectly safe.”
He huffed as he threw the car into park. He shoved open his door then slammed it closed. The last shreds of hope I had vanished. Was he already upset with me?
I stood halfway out of the car. “You didn’t point the headlights in the right direction.”
Garrett whipped around, his hair shimmering like gold in the yellow streetlight. “What?”
“The headlights.” I pointed to the back of the alley. “You’re supposed to point them at the wall, remember?”
He narrowed his eyes, his tone cold and even. “I’m sorry, Hollie. I’m only human. Sometimes I forget things.” He stalked back toward the car and slammed down into the driver’s seat to correct it.
I just smiled, fiddling with the elaborate wedding ring on my finger. And even though I walked toward the wall like I didn’t have a care in the world, every muscle in my body vibrated with tension.
Why did he have such an attitude? He got in these moods sometimes.
He pocketed his hands, strolling after me. “So, this is your special place.” The judgment lacing his tone didn’t escape my notice.
Not answering him yet, I scanned the bottom half of the wall until I found my tally marks. Brushing my hand over the furrows in the cinderblock, I followed them to the end, where I stashed my rock on the ground. Leaning down, I plucked it up and scraped one more new mark into the line-up.
Garrett’s shadow, thrown by the headlights behind him, loomed large on the wall.
“Seventy-five.”
His shadow grew smaller as he walked closer. “You’ve been here seventy-five times?”
“Yep.” I waved at the proof.
“Just to dance?”
I nodded, dropping my rock back in its place. “I came here after I had a big fight with my parents, and for some reason dancing here helped me process a lot of stuff.” I huffed a laugh, relieved he was being quiet and listening. “I’ve been coming ever since.”
His eyes scanned the walls briefly before turning around to peer at the trees behind us. “Let me guess. You come here after we fight?”
I fought to appear nonchalant with a half-hearted shrug. “I have before.”
His snort sounded dangerously close to a laugh. “Okay.”
“What?”
He swiped a hand over his smile. “Nothing.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
He dropped his hand, fully chuckling then. “It just seems…I don’t know. Maybe a little melodramatic. Like something girls do when they PMS. But that tracks for a teenager, I guess.”
I stiffened. He knew I hated it when he threw my age around. “This place is special to me. It’s quiet and I can just put on songs that make me feel. Sometimes I feel like I’ve had to be strong and carry more than I should have to, but I don’t have to do that here.”
“So, what’s your jam back here? Jar of Hearts by that emo girl?
” His full smile broke free at his own joke.
“Or that”—he snapped his fingers—“that girl who does the crazy vocals. Dammit, I can’t remember her name.
Or how about Taylor Swift?” He broke out on the lyrics of Teardrops On My Guitar, his shaky voice sliding into a mocking falsetto for the iconic chorus.
He clapped his hands, his laugh lifting in the quiet night.
“So what’s it going to be tonight, sweetheart? Battlefield by Jordan Sparks?”
Tears drummed into my eyes. My fists clenched at my side.
Why did I suddenly feel so stupid?
I swallowed the lump in my throat, mentally filing through my options.
Even though every part of me wanted to storm back to that car, I had to play this smart.
If he knew my feelings were hurt, he’d force us to have a long conversation I didn’t want.
So I smirked. “You’re right, I guess it is a little melodramatic. ”
His smile twitched on one side, happy I agreed. “But yet you still come.”
I spread my hands wide. “The important thing is that I was telling the truth. You should’ve believed me in the first place.” My throat grew thick and talking became difficult. “I’m ready to go home now though. Come on.”
“Wait a sec. I thought you were going to dance.”
I lifted my sandaled foot. “Nope. I only dance in tennis shoes.”
“Then why did we drive all the way out here?”
“Because I had to prove I wasn’t cheating on you with Lee Pope.”
“I’m not leaving till you dance.” He leaned against the hood, crossing his arms across his broad chest.
“Garrett, I didn’t come prepared to dance.
These jeans are too stiff and these sandals have a strap between my toes.
” Panic clawed up my throat. I didn’t want to dance in front of Garrett.
I already felt stupid, like I might burst into tears at any second.
He’d reduced this special place to a hormonal cry fest. Bringing him here was vulnerable enough on its own.
“You could always take your jeans off.” He rose his eyebrows once, smirking.
“No thanks.”
“You can’t dance for your husband? I’ll even pick the song.”
“I said I don’t want to.”
He scoffed, his playful demeanor draining away. “Then this was a waste of time.”
“No, it wasn’t—”
“Are you crying right now? Seriously?”
My voice shook. “I feel kind of uncomfortable. Can we please just leave?”
“No. You said you like dancing here, so go. Hurry up so the car battery doesn’t drain”
The headlights started to burn my eyes. “I’m leaving.” I rounded my side of the car, and as soon as my fingers touched the handles, the door locks snapped.
“As soon as you dance, we’ll leave.”