10000 Things I Hate About You

But when I reach the place where our circle of lawn chairs was gathered, there’s nothing there but tire tracks in the soft ground and a Fro-Yo loyalty card that must have fallen out of someone’s purse.

Leslie is gone, as are Chelsea and Theresa.

Biting my lip and twisting the sweatshirt anxiously in my hands, I wrack my brain, wondering who I can ask for a ride who will be willing to leave right now. I’m friends with several of the horseshoe guys—including Pete, the senior boys’ DD—but they always stay out until the crack of dawn and most of the other people here are older.

I’ve just decided to head over to the bank teller crew and tell them I got my period unexpectedly and need emergency girl help getting home, when a slightly nasal voice behind me asks, “Your friends ditch you?”

I turn to see Edgar Smithfield-Watson III emerging from the shadows beneath the oak tree growing between this part of the field and the bonfire. His gait is slow, graceful, but predatory all the same.

Looks like I attracted his attention, after all.

Now, to decide what to do with it…

I hear Derrick asking someone by the bonfire if they’ve seen me and realize the time for thinking is over. It’s time to act and act fast.

Trusting my gut, I cross to Edgar, and whisper, “Do you have a car here?”

He nods to his right. “My truck’s parked right over there.”

“Could you give me a ride?” I ask, clenching my jaw and willing myself to stand still as he brushes my ponytail over my shoulder, his fingers lingering on my neck in a way that makes me want to gag. “I need to get out of here.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” he says. “You want to come back to my place?”

I absolutely don’t, but I know Edgar’s reputation well enough to realize that the chances he’ll give me a ride with nothing in it for him are slim to none. So, I nod, forcing a smile as I say, “Sure. But can we go now? There’s someone following me I’d rather not talk to.”

“Totally. Olsen’s a stuck-up prick,” he says, making it clear he saw me walk into the woods with Derrick, which is…worrisome for reasons I’m having trouble pinpointing with all the fight or flight chemicals flooding my brain. Edgar wraps his fingers around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “And you look like you know how to party. What’s your name?”

My lips are parting in reply, when Derrick practically growls from behind Edgar, “Her name is Harlow. And if you don’t get your hands off of her in five seconds, we’re going to have a problem.”

Chapter Three

Harlow

My heart is ricocheting off my ribs like a toddler hyped up on ice cream and set loose in a bouncy house, and I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or pissed that Derrick’s trying to take control.

Yes, Edgar is a little creepy and getting way too handsy, way too fast.

But Derrick is the harbinger of doom. I will literally die of shame if I have to spend one more second with him.

So, when Edgar pulls his hand from my neck and turns to face Derrick, I quickly snatch his fingers in mine. “I’m going with Edgar. He’s giving me a ride,” I say, my voice only trembling the slightest bit. “Your assistance is no longer needed here, but thanks.”

Edgar’s clammy hand curls lightly around my palm. “Yeah, it’s all cool, buddy.” He exhales a soft, derisive laugh. “You can take the superhero act somewhere else, Harlow’s all good.” He glances my way with a cheesily seductive grin. “That’s a hot name, by the way. Suits you.”

“She’s out of your league,” Derrick says, surprising me. “And I have Carrie Cox’s number in my phone. I’m sure her dad would love to know you’re out here getting fucked up and trying to score with teenage girls while Carrie’s about to go into labor.”

Edgar’s grip tightens on mine until it almost hurts. “Fuck you, Olsen. That kid ain’t mine. If you stuck around town instead of running off to the city, you’d know that.”

Derrick steps closer, until I can smell his woodsy, spicy cologne, a much preferable scent to the stale marijuana smoke and wet puppy smell clinging to Edgar’s clothes. He smiles, sending a chill straight to the center of my bones. I’ve always known that Derrick could be bossy and overbearing, but I didn’t realize he could also be terrifying until right now. “Let her go. This is the last time I’ll ask. Then, we’re going to have a problem.”

Edgar’s grip spasms on my already crushed fingers, making me flinch and a whimper involuntarily leap from my throat.

Before I can say a word or attempt to squirm my aching bones free, Derrick’s hand whips out, executing what feels like a light karate chop on Edgar’s wrist, but which sends the other man to his knees with a wail of pain.