One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

Maybe the accident will somehow garner goodwill from the second biggest jerk in our class?

“You still there?” I ask after pushing the buds in my ears.

“Still here.”

“I think Kyle is here,” I murmur.

“Kick him between the legs if he says anything to you, or better yet, smack him upside the head with your cast.”

“It’s a soft cast,” I remind her as I open the driver’s side door and step out. “It would probably just hurt me more.”

“Then go for the nuts.”

I chuckle, tucking my phone into my back pocket before heading to the entrance.

“Oh fuck,” I mutter when I first step inside.

“What is it?” Frankie doesn’t chastise me for the slipped cuss word. She sounds nervous for me.

“He’s here,” I hiss.

“Kyle?”

“Dalton,” I correct, and it kills a little part of my soul to see the boy I had let myself imagine had changed just a little sitting across the diner with the same group of jerks he’s always been around. Vaughn is even at a table adjacent to his with a wide smile on his face as he watches Kyle act out some stupid story.

“Looks like things are back to normal,” I grumble as I turn toward the counter.

We frequent the diner so often; the owner has my food waiting for me once I reach the pay counter. The transaction goes smoothly, and I’m certain the guys in the back corner haven’t noticed me as I leave, but my luck never works out like that.

“You looking for me?” Dalton asks just as I step outside on the concrete.

“Hold on, Frankie. Let me get rid of this jerk.”

“Frankie?” Dalton asks, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“Tell him to suck a bag of dicks,” Frankie urges in my ear. “Or kick him in the sac!”

“Yes,” I answer, but I don’t honestly know if I’m answering Dalton or agreeing with Frankie that I should do either of her raunchy suggestions.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“He really has lost his memories, hasn’t he?” Frankie whispers like if she speaks at a regular tone, he’d be able to hear her.

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

The news should make him back up, but it doesn’t. If anything, he inches closer.

“How about you stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours?” I suggest.

“That’s the last thing I want,” Dalton says as he manages to step even closer.

His voice is doing that same husky thing it did last night and earlier in his kitchen. I don’t like it, but I can admit in my own head that I don’t hate it either. After years of him yelling and insulting me, it’s actually a nice change.

“What is he doing?”

“Don’t,” I tell him when he leans in closer, his mouth parted like he’s going to kiss me.

His eyes are laser-focused on my mouth, and the attention makes them tingle.

“I don’t know where your lips have been,” I add.

“Is he trying to kiss you?” Frankie screeches in my ear. The hysteria is almost loud enough to make me rip the buds from my ears. “I bet he’s an amazing kisser.”

Jesus, whose side is she on? And how in the heck does she go from hating him to opinions about his kissing skills?

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Frankie snorts in my ear before I can manage the sound myself.

“Well, I don’t remember kissing anyone before.” His green eyes dart from my lips back up to my own eyes twice. “You’d be my first.”

“Dang,” Frankie moans. “Even from five hundred miles away, he’s turning me on.”

“Now isn’t the time,” I snap at Frankie.

“Some other time then?” Dalton asks, that same damn casted hand gripping my hip.

“More like never,” I answer before turning around and getting the hell out of there.Chapter 11Dalton“Never?” I mumble as Piper drives away. I huff a humorless laugh. “That’s never going to happen.”

“What was that?”

I look over to find Kyle standing right beside me. He was so engrossed in his telling of a party he went to last week that I was hoping he’d stay in the damn diner. I guess I’m not that lucky.

“Nothing,” I mutter, taking a step away from the curb.

I need distance, distance from thoughts of her and distance from the guy who claims to be my best friend. Since he picked me up from my house, he’s been kind of an asshole. All he wants to talk about are the parties we attended together and the girls he’s slept with. There’s no real substance to him, and I’m honestly shocked that we’re friends. He’s nothing like I picture myself being.

I wonder for the third time if losing my memories are more a godsend than an actual tragedy. The first time I got a glimpse at who I used to be was when Peyton intercepted me at home outside of Preston’s room.

The second time came the following day when she told me how awful I’d been to Piper.