Chapter 28 Lewis
I scribble down the solution to the equation, slip my pen into my pocket, and get to my feet.
I finished the test before anyone else, and I should be feeling damn good about it all.
Classes are going smoothly, the Cardinals are sailing up the rankings, my tryouts went like a dream, and I’ve got two more lined up.
I should be on top of the world, grabbing drinks with my buddies, kicking back on dates with random girls, driving around with the wind in my hair.
Instead, I’m standing in the middle of the parking lot, frowning at my phone.
LEWIS: Still on for our lesson?
I don’t usually check in with her like this, but it’s probably a good idea.
Amy skipped our last two one-on-ones, and I know I went a little quiet on her at the start of the year, but this is bad news.
I haven’t seen her since our gym session last week, and I’m starting to feel edgy.
What’s up with that? Deep down, I know it has nothing to do with the Campus Drivers.
I miss her—it’s as simple as that. It feels like I spent way too long denying my feelings, which makes things even worse.
I’ve been feeling weird since that conversation with Adam when I got back from Atlanta, when he asked me what was going on with us.
I kind of stalled a little. I gave him the usual spiel about not taking it seriously, but the more time goes on, the more I can’t help but wonder. Not seeing her is eating away at me.
I tried to kid myself at the start, but it’s getting harder to play it business as usual.
I’m feeling her absence, and it sucks. The truth is, I miss her—and not just as a way of distracting myself whenever I feel pissy or overwhelmed.
I mean, I miss her. And I suddenly need to know whether she feels the same.
She never even hinted at wanting something serious, and acknowledging that I do is freaking me out.
It’s like I’ve been caught in my own trap.
I thought having a girlfriend was supposed to feel good.
There’s still no sign of Firebird ten minutes later.
LEWIS: I’m in the usual spot.
Six minutes more go by.
LEWIS: In the parking lot.
Another three.
LEWIS: Hello? Where are you?
LEWIS: That’s the second time you’ve stood me up this week, Hitman.
I hit dial and the phone rings out. When I reach her voicemail, I hang up.
I slip behind the wheel and hit up the campus parking lots; my eyes peeled for a glimpse of her Pontiac. Nada. I switch strategies, this time heading for RJ’s shop, and I don’t give a shit if she’s busy—I’ll drag her into this car myself, if that’s what it takes.
Pulling up outside the garage, the first thing I notice is her car is gone. I head up the stairs and hammer on her bedroom door, before circling back to the main entrance.
Nobody home.
I sigh. I was expecting to bump into Raven at least, but it seems like the entire Hitman family has gone underground. Did they go on vacation, or something? I frown. I’m guessing Amy would’ve told me.
Wouldn’t she?
I think back to all the times I forgot to keep her in the loop and wince. I officially suck. A wave of guilt crashes over me.
I traipse back down to the shop, where RJ is busy painting a car door, lifting his mask away when he spots me.
“How’s it going, kid?”
“Looking for Amy—seen her around?”
“Saw her leave for class this morning.”
“She doing okay?”
He tugs his mask off and thinks for a moment. “As well as a Hitman ever can.” He eyes me warily. “Something wrong?”
I shake my head. “Guess I must’ve missed her on campus.”
“You see her, tell her those tires need changing, will you? They’re bugging me.”
“Sure thing.”
I race back to campus, pulling in to find the Campus Drivers hanging with Lois and Carrie.
“All good, Conley?” Don holds out a fist.
I glance around the parking lot. “Anyone seen Amy, lately?”
The guys shake their heads, so I turn to the girls.
“Carrie? Lois?”
Did they just exchange glances? I hate when they do that.
“Nope, haven’t seen her,” Carrie pipes up. “Why?”
“Just looking for her, that’s all.”
“When did you last see her?” Lois asks.
“Last week, before tryouts. We were supposed to hang out when I got back from Atlanta, but my flight was delayed. She was gone by the time I got home.” I frown. “The next day, she didn’t answer her phone, and she’s basically been ghosting me since then.”
“When’s your next session?” Don asks.
“Thirty minutes ago. She canceled yesterday, and now she just stood me up. I tried calling her—voicemail again.”
“Maybe she’s sick,” Adam offers.
Carrie grins. “Or pissed.”
“Why would she be mad at me?” I protest. “I’m perfect!”
“You keep telling yourself that…”
I plaster a grin on my face, but deep down, Amy’s silence is freaking me out.
Something’s bothering me, and I can’t put my finger on it.
She’s complicated—that much I know. But I still can’t figure out what I could’ve done wrong.
Nothing happened. The last time we saw each other, back at the gym, we had a great time.
So why do I have such a bad feeling about this?
“Seriously, it’s all good between us,” I insist, and I don’t know who I’m trying to convince. “Anyway, if Amy had a problem with me, I would definitely know about it already.”
I’m trying to put on a brave face, but inside, I’m a wreck. Ghosting isn’t her style. She always replies to my messages; she always picks up when I call. Did something happen while I was away? Something to do with New York?
“Why don’t you stop by her place?” Lois suggests, concern edging into her voice.
“I tried already. She’s not home.”
“If she wants space, you should give it,” Carrie says. “It’s not like you guys are close, right?”
“Of course we are!” I blurt, a little too forcefully.
“Really?”
I don’t want to talk about this with them—not until I’ve seen Amy.
“I mean, you know… She’s my trainee. And she saved my Dodge, remember? So…”
“Yeah, that must’ve been a real bonding experience.”
I shoot Carrie a look. She’s acting weirder than usual, which is saying something. And Lois has this strange expression on her face. I take a step back, squinting at them.
“Okay… Spill,” I say sternly. “What aren’t you two telling me?”
“Nothing!” Lois gasps.
Major red flag.
“Lois…” I warn.
“Is it me, or is it super cold today?” She hugs her arms around herself. “I’m heading inside.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I hold up a hand. “If Amy told you g—”
“Relax, dude!” Lane jerks his head to the right. “She’s right there.”
I follow his gaze.
Firebird, walking under the trees.
My heart lurches. I spin on my heel, but a few quick strides later, I stop in my tracks.
I’m picking up on her vibe from here. Her face is hard.
Closed. Intimidating, to be perfectly honest. Just like it was the first time we met.
She had softened lately, her features taking on a sweeter, more relaxed feel.
That’s all gone now, and I was right to worry, I realize—something is very, very wrong here.
“Firebird!” Don calls out, but she ignores him.
Passersby are glancing over at us, and I’m not buying she didn’t hear. Not for a second.
“Hey! Amy!” I try.
“Everything’s good between you guys, huh?” Carrie mutters.
I guess I’m about to find out.
I start to run. When I catch up, I plant myself in front of her, forcing her to slow down. All I want to do is take her in my arms, but instinct holds me back.
“Where you running off to like that?”
She purses her lips and sighs, recoiling like I’m infected with some kind of virus. The space between us is as cold as ice.
“Are you okay? We had a session planned, remember?”
“I was busy.”
She’s still not meeting my eye. She swerves around me, and I step to the side, blocking her way.
“I’m kinda in a hurry, here.”
I know that look—I know all she wants to do right now is kick me in the balls, and I’m beyond confused. In the space of a week, here we are, acting like we barely know each other.
“What is going on with you?” I try. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’ve got a lot going on—I don’t have time for this. You of all people should get that.”
Unease stirs in my gut when I spot a guy running toward us.
“I was looking all over for you, babe!”
Babe?
He clasps her from behind, his tattooed hands flat against her stomach as he kisses her cheek. Babe?
Rage prickles against my skin, threatening to erupt at any minute—but it’s about to get so much worse.
Slowly, she turns to face him, looping her arms around his neck, and when she slips her tongue between his lips it’s a blade through my heart, the air draining from my lungs as I stand there in silence, watching them stroll away hand in hand.
I glance over my shoulder. My friends are hurrying my way.
“Guess that explains the silence.” Don sighs. “I didn’t recognize the dude, though. Did you?”
I recognize him all right. The guy from Brooklyn. Just an old friend.
A switch flips. Before I know it, I’m homing in on Esteban, covering the ground in seconds, my eyes trained on his back as I catch up with them.
“This guy been keeping you ‘busy,’ huh?” I snarl.
Amy stops in her tracks, whipping around to face me. Esteban glances back and forth between us, and when he slings an arm around her shoulders, all I want to do is smash my fist into his dumbass face and wipe that shit-eating grin off it.
My eyes search Amy’s, begging for some kind of explanation.
“What happened to your eye?” I ask. “Another fight?”
She stares at me, her eyes brimming with disdain.
What the hell is up with her? Everything was going great, and now suddenly she’s back to being her old savage self.
“What the fuck is your game?” I hiss.
“Why?” she says flatly. “You wanna play?”
My mind drifts back to the first time I set eyes on her—when I ended up with my face smooshed into her hood. She’s ten times meaner now than she was back then.
“She plays hard.” The guy winks.
Fuck you, buddy.
I turn my attention back to Amy.