My throat tightened.

She reached up and unhooked the necklace from my rearview mirror and slipped it around her slender neck. Her face was thoughtful but comfortable.

The air turned warm, and it was just us. Tate and Jared.

I combed my hand through my hair, shaking off the déjà vu feeling and opened my door to the cheering crowd.

I stopped and looked down to the floor. “Waking the demon…” I murmured. I don’t know why I picked that song to race to, but it just occurred to me how it fit.

“Thank you, Tate,” I whispered, looking over at her. “Tatum” didn’t fit. It never did, really.

She was Tate and always would be.

“So are you two friends yet?” A very drunk Madoc hooked his arm around my neck at the bonfire after the race.

I knew who he was talking about.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I took a sip of my warm beer and kept my eyes forward.

Tate and I had exchanged pleasantries when I arrived, but I knew I’d have to talk to her again tonight. I was bound and determined to get that necklace back. I had to see my father tomorrow.

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” he sighed nonchalantly. “Now that she’s got a boyfriend, I think you’ll both move on to more interesting pastimes than hating each other.”

The cup cracked in my hand. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“She will,” he spat back, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “He’s going to try to put his hands on her tonight.”

No.

Tate and Ben weren’t together tonight as friends. I knew that. But Madoc saying it out loud made my stomach burn with rage.

“You see all those guys?” He jerked his chin and waved his hand to the group that Tate and Ben were chatting with. “They all want to put their hands up her skirt. You know that, right?”

Just breathe.

“And sooner or later,” Madoc continued, “she’s going to let one of them.”

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 608