I’m not going to be a breath apart from her for the next twenty-four hours. God, I’m addicted.

But someone wraps their arms around me and lifts me up, swinging me around. I startle.

“That fight made YouTube, babe,” Callum exclaims, kissing me. “That’s my girl!”

I struggle in his arms, trying to pry free. What? Fight?

Why is he here? I glance around, seeing my team head to cars and parents picking them up. I don’t see Liv.

I press my hands to his shoulders. “Let me go, Callum.”

Where is Liv?

“Don’t worry,” he says. “She came at you in the cafeteria. She deserved that.”

He’s talking about the fight on the field last night. That seems like ages ago now.

He takes me hand. “Come on. Let’s grab some food, and I’ll take you home.” My head spins with what I have to say to send him away, but he looks over his shoulder. “Amy! Call Kris and Milo to meet us at Coco’s.”

No. I pull my hand out of his, digging in my heels. “I have my car.”

“Good,” He takes my keys. “Because I don’t. I’m driving.”

Drops of rain start spilling down, and I look around as he heads for my truck. Liv stands at the open gate, watching me, the rain coming down harder as she blurs beyond the downpour.

“Clay!” Callum yells. “Come on!”

“We’re riding with you!” Amy skips past me, bringing a guy I don’t know, and I stand there, seeing Liv shift on her feet, the rain spilling down her legs. She looks at me, I look at her, and in a moment, she inches away, taking a left down the sidewalk. She disappears around the side of the school, hidden under a canopy of trees like I told her to.

So, I can pick her up.

Goddammit. I jog for my car, ready to tell them all to take a hike. I have shit to do. I have to meet my mom for a fitting, or visit Mimi, or I’m grounded for the fight, or something, but…

Callum will still want a fucking ride home.

“Let’s go!” all of my friends call from the back seat.

“Just…” I grit my teeth, ready to scream.

They’ll know. They’ll know something is up. They’ll come over to my house. They’ll talk. Maybe Amy or Krisjen knows something already. We weren’t careful this morning.

“I’m not going to breakfast,” I tell them. “You didn’t even ask. I have things to do.”

“Like what?” Amy pries.

Bitch. “I’m going into Miami shopping with my mother. What business is it of yours?”

“Does your mother know that?” Amy spits out. “Because she’s already with my mom today, meeting with the caterers for Easter brunch. In Miami.”

Fuck. I forgot.

Callum chuckles and gives me a condescending grin. “You got another guy on the side, Clay?”

I sneer back, but the walls close in, and… I can’t think. I don’t want them to know.

I snatch my keys, pushing Callum out of the way. “No one drives my car.”

And I climb in the driver’s side as he runs around to the passenger side.

I’ll text Liv. I’ll get away and meet her later. We have all day. All weekend.

I’ll get out of this.

But as I pull out of the lot, take a left, and see her form walking in the downpour, I know I’ve fucked up. I lighten my foot on the pedal, seeing her drenched already, and wanting to stop so badly. I told her I would be there.

But I don’t stop. I pass, leaving her behind in my rearview mirror, closing my eyes and wanting to cry.

I can’t, Liv. I’m sorry.

This isn’t a relationship. In the fall, she’ll go to one school and I’ll go to another. She’ll get over it.

SHE DOESN’T GET over it.

I called. I texted. I even DM’d her Twitter. I almost crossed the tracks yesterday, but I didn’t care to have her slam the door in my face in front of her whole family.

I walk through school Monday morning, keeping my eyes peeled but already knowing she’s not here. She didn’t show up to work out, she wasn’t in the locker room, and if she didn’t want to talk to me all weekend, she definitely won’t come back to school like I want her to.

My mom had asked about the dress yesterday, finally realizing she hadn’t seen it in the house yet, but I’d forgotten about what Liv did to it. I told her they had to take it in a little more. I lost weight, I lied.

I slide my school jacket off, my arms heavy and my head detached. The past two days passed in a fog, and I’m going a little crazy. Even spending all afternoon with Mrs. Gates yesterday hadn’t helped.

And holding off Callum is starting to become a problem. I know he’s getting it somewhere else, and I couldn’t care less. I don’t love him, but what if that’s not the reason I don’t care. What if I don’t care, because he’s not my type.

What if no guy is my type?

I drift my eyes around me, stealing quick glances at the girls and boys loitering in the hall. Seeing his smile. Her eyes. The way he wears his clothes. Her legs. The way he fills out his shirt. What she looks like underneath hers.

And I stop, my gaze lingering on Ava Young. What she looks like when she moves.

Her hair down her back. The softness of her lips. The way she fits her clothes.

My stomach roils, and I feel the tears burn the backs of my eyes. I look away.

I shake my head, clearing my throat and stuffing my shit in my locker. No. It’s just something about Liv. I’m obsessed with her. I’m unhappy and latching on. That’s all she is. Someone to get off on who will keep her mouth shut in an arrangement where I call the shots.

I pull out my forensics book for class, my requirements for science fulfilled last year, but the elective sounded fun, and I knew Liv was taking it. Or had been.

But actually, I kind of like it. Maybe I want to study forensics in college.

Or maybe I thought it would be useful when helping Mrs. Gates. Some of the bodies that come in are pretty interesting.

I walk to class, entering the lab, but as soon as I enter, I see Liv immediately. I stop, my heart leaping.

She reaches up to the blinds on her tiptoes, her black Polo and skirt creeping up, and her shiny, black hair spills down her back in waves. I ache.

She closes the blinds, blocking out the sun, and turns around, red lipstick beautiful and lips looking like they were never swollen from my kisses. Her skin perfect, like it was never hot underneath me.

There’s no evidence of me on her at all anymore.

I stand there, waiting for her to look up, but she doesn’t.

Strolling up to her, I drop my book on the lab table next to hers and reach around her still body, taking one of the tests McCreedy put on our tables.

“This isn’t over,” I say in her ear.

She doesn’t turn around or respond. Her head bowed, she puts her name on the packet and slides a stool across the floor, sitting down.

Students mill around us, entering and finding their seats.

“You came back to school,” I point out, labeling my packet too.

She must want more if she came back. And looking her best today, too.

I look over my shoulder, her back still to me as she begins.

“Say something,” I growl in a low voice.