Sweet Dandelion

“You’re not bothering me, Dani.”

I look at him from beneath my lashes. There’s a part of me that’s confident, who doesn’t care to speak her mind, but then there’s this other part of me that hesitates.

“I should be.”

His brows furrow in confusion at my words. I don’t elaborate, though. Lachlan isn’t stupid and he’ll figure out my meaning on his own.

“Thanks, again.” I brush past him, ignoring the shiver that courses up my spine when my arm brushes his.

I return to Sage’s with the books clasped in my arms.

“Where did you go?” he demands. “You can’t walk out like that with half-answers, Dandelion.”

“I went to go borrow more books from my friend.” I lock the door and turn around, holding them up so he can see them.

He looks suspicious. “Your friend lives nearby?”

“In the building.”

“Who is this friend? It’s not Ansel is it?” He looks murderous at the very idea.

“No.” I shake my head.

“Who, then? I only hear you talk about Ansel and someone named Sasha. Is it Sasha, then?”

I rack my brain for a name and end up blurting, “Taylor.” It’s not a total lie. “My friend Taylor lives in the building.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slack. “A girl. Okay, then.”

Yeah. A girl.

Taylor could easily be a boy’s name, but I’ll let him believe what he wants, it’s not like I’m going to tell him it’s Mr. Taylor.

“I’m going to bed now.”

He waves me on.

Closing my bedroom door behind me I set the books beside my bed before climbing under the covers. My phone vibrates and I dig around beneath all the blankets until I finally locate it.

My heart leaps when I see the text on the screen.

Unknown number: It’s Lachlan. Goodnight, Dani.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Ansel pulls out the chair across from me, sitting down. Sasha and Seth haven’t arrived yet.

“It’s almost Halloween?” I blurt, looking up from my sketchpad. The rough drawing of an old oak tree looks like something a kindergartener would do.

Ansel frowns, tilting his head. “Um, yeah, Meadows. It’s this Friday.”

Time has been passing in a blur. I suppose that’s a good thing. It means my mind hasn’t been on things it shouldn’t be.

“Clearly, you don’t have plans then. There’s a party, you’re going.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Meadows,” he says in a low voice, “all you’ve been doing lately is reading and drawing. It’s time for you to get out. I’ll drive you home today. We’ll pick up some costumes before I drop you off.”