Chapter 18 Amy
Lewis left five minutes ago—so why am I still standing here in front of my door?
I just spent what felt like an eternity wrestling with my feelings, and I’m exhausted.
He was right there next to me, lounging on my bed, talking me through the app, explaining how to become a better version of myself, and when our worlds brush up against each other like that, I start spiraling.
I can’t do this. Whenever he’s around, all I can think about are his arms wrapping around me, and I don’t like it one bit.
It’s like I just survived some kind of mental earthquake.
Like Lewis and I are tectonic plates that should never have rubbed against each other in the first place.
I wish things were different, but the truth is that spending time with him throws my inner compass out of whack, grinding my self-control down into a fine dust, until the only thing I know for sure is that I definitely cannot do this.
Stars blossom before my eyes. I’ve been here before.
I need air. I need to speak to RJ. I know this goes against everything I said I’d do, but this is the only way I know how to make things right in my head again.
That run before Lewis came over was supposed to chill me out—pull me back from the brink. It hasn’t worked.
I shrug on a sweater and race down the stairwell, praying I don’t bump into Raven on the way. Nobody can read me like her, and I don’t want her knowing what I’m about to do. I sprint around the garage, dragging open the doors and bellowing into the half dark.
“Ronny! Where you at?”
“Over here!”
He’s frowning as he steps out of the tire room. Guess my voice says it all.
“What’s going on? I saw Conley’s car out there—you guys okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” I sound strident. “He just left. I need to take my mind off things. Give me something to do. Anything,” I add.
He arches an eyebrow. “Something? Or someone?”
“You get me.”
He sighs. “I thought you were stopping all that.”
“And I thought you liked getting what you’re owed. Guess Emil was right—you’re going soft, old man.”
“Say that name one more time, and you’re barred.” He thinks for a moment. “Wait here.”
He disappears into his office, slams a few drawers, and reemerges with a sheet of paper. I smooth it out, skim-reading through the sums and notes scribbled in the margins, memorizing the guy’s profile before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the burn barrel. Nice to meet you, Casey.
“Consider it done.”
“Careful out there, kid.”
I step back, smirking. “Scared I’ll get caught?”
He shakes his head. “I know that look in your eyes—I’m scared you’ll go too far, this time.”
I back my car out, the wheels crunching against the gravel as I rev the engine. This Casey guy I’m looking for lives on the other side of town, and I hope he puts up a good fight. I already know I’ll regret this in a few hours, but right now, it’s exactly what I need.
The buildings fly by in a blur, adrenaline coursing through my veins, pressure mounting behind my eyes.
I’m buzzing, electric—but when I track him down behind a warehouse, spinning him around and yanking his collar between my hands, the energy drains out of me.
I was hoping to slay a dragon tonight, but it turns out Casey is one limp-dicked letdown.
What a buzzkill.
“I was planning on making it right by Thursday!” he bleats.
“Man the fuck up!”
I’m giving him a pointer for his general vibe, here. Look at the guy—he tried to screw RJ for a couple of spare parts, and then when I show up, he just gives in like a little bitch? It’s pathetic. I sigh inwardly. Sycamore Heights life is so indescribably lame.
I’m running through my options, trying to figure out how else I could work off all my nervous energy, when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Dexter Drake? You there, buddy?”
I frown. I recognize the voice, but… That can’t be him. Can it?
“Anyone seen Dexter Drake?”
Yeah. That’s definitely him.
My shoulders stiffen, my fingers tightening on Casey’s collar, and he looks at me strangely, his eyes darting back and forth between me and the intruder, his brain whirring as he tries to figure out who the bigger threat is.
“Tall guy. Hollywood.”
Casey wriggles in my hands, sweat beading across his forehead.
“I’ll get it to you on Tuesday, Hitman! Keep the West Coast out of it—I’m serious!”
I stand there, stunned.
Somewhere behind me, Lewis bursts out laughing, and I turn to look, knowing I should just let go of Casey, but incapable of moving an inch. My mentor’s beaming face swings into view, and he might be smiling at me, but I know he doesn’t mean it—not really.
“Amy! What a coincidence.” His smile widens.
“Lewis!” I squeal back, doing my best to match his fakeness.
What the hell is he doing here? Did he follow me? I take a couple of deep breaths, stretching my neck from side to side.
Think fast, Hitman. You need to get yourself out of this.
“How’s your day been?”
“Amazing.”
“That’s great to hear,” he says, before falling silent.
I know what he’s waiting for—he wants to see just how far I’m prepared to go. I rack my brains for some kind of excuse. How do I explain what I’m doing here?
Think, Amy. Think.
I glance at Casey. He doesn’t even bat an eye, like this whole situation is the most natural thing in the world. Like Lewis hasn’t just walked in on a score. Fuck!
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, as calmly as I can.
“Looking for Dexter Drake. Adam’s cousin from LA.”
“I think I saw some guy back that way.”
“Really? I just came from there and didn’t see anyone.” He jerks his head at my quarry. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
My gaze drifts back to Casey. He’s annoying me even more now—but this definitely isn’t the time to be getting physical.
“Lewis, this is Richard. Richard, meet Lewis.”
“Uh, my name’s Casey.”
Is he fucking kidding me?
“Just shut the hell up.”
Lewis purses his lips. “Nice to meet you, dude.”
Any second now and I’ll wake up from this nightmare… It’s so surreal, I could laugh.
“What’re you guys up to?” Lewis says, narrowing his eyes.
I follow his gaze—I’m still gripping Casey’s shirt, I realize.
“We go way back,” I try. “Just catching up—reminiscing about the good old days.”
“Looks cozy…”
“I was just helping him with his buttons. He did them up wrong. Right, Richard?”
I give the collar a hard tug. Just an inch tighter, and I could probably strangle him.
“There!” I give Casey’s chest a friendly pat. “Much better. Great seeing you, buddy—catch up soon, okay?”
As in, Tuesday soon.
“No problem, Hitman.”
He casts me one last wary look before he scampers away, and though I’m in total prey-drive mode, I keep my feet planted and offer Lewis a relaxed smile.
“Dexter, huh?”
“Richard, huh?”
“He’s a great guy.” I nod eagerly. “A real heart-on-his-sleeve type, you know?”
“Cut the crap, Amy.” Lewis frowns. “I told you to stick to the rules… What’re you doing acting all shady down some creepy back alley?”
“Shady? Dude, relax. I was just talking—that’s all. Are you stalking me, or something?”
“Dude, relax.” He smirks at me. “I come down this way all the time. Just to catch up with old friends, and stuff. Some coincidence, huh?”
I bristle at that. “So, you did follow me…”
“I forgot to give you something, so I turned around and went back to your place. That’s when I saw you get in your car and race off like there was some kind of emergency.”
A bunch of different feelings come crashing over me. I’m embarrassed I was so obvious. I’m mad at myself for not spotting him earlier. And the combination is lethal—seeing how he’s backed me into a corner, I have no choice but to play dirty.
“See you next semester,” I snap, taking a step back to my Pontiac.
“That’s not happening, Firebird.”
I can feel him on my heels, trying to get me to crack, and I fight the urge to whip around and kick him in the balls.
Don’t make things worse than they already are.
I’m so pissed that he rolled up here, and I’m even more pissed that he’s back here in my space, when I’m trying so hard to keep it together.
“I want to talk about this,” he says, just as I’m fastening my seat belt.
I rev my engine. He’s smart enough not to stand in my way, at least, and I hit the road, bombing down the street as fast as I can, the radio turned up high.
Fuck, this is the shittiest day! Am I trying to get myself fired from the Campus Drivers before I even get hired? This is classic Amy Hitman bullshit.
I drive the entire length and breadth of Sycamore Heights, flinching every time I catch sight of Lewis in my rearview mirror.
He’s been on my tail since I pulled out of the warehouse, and though I’ve tried to shake him off three times now, he’s holding strong.
Who am I kidding? I knew that if I really wanted to lose him, I’d have done so by now.
I like having him nearby—that’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m basically fucked.
Two hours and a whole lot of energy and fuel later, and it’s time to call it quits. Night is falling, and I know I need to face the music. That’s what Lewis wants? That’s what he’s going to get.
I pull up outside my block and dart into the garage. My safe space. My sanctuary. The one place I feel like I could take him on—or that’s how I should feel, anyway. When he slides the door shut behind him, though, and his footsteps echo through the space, the knot in my throat tightens.
“Lewis!” I turn around to flash him my fakest smile.
He shoots me a dirty look. “Why am I getting the weirdest déjà vu?”
He’s thinking back to that Friday night, when we had a fight after the Worthington race. He has this uncanny ability to always be exactly in the wrong place at precisely the wrong time.