Page 29 of Someone Like Me
“Mmm hmm. Great food,” I mutter, opening the door.
Drake opens his as well. “I’ll walk you in.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do th—”
“It’s no trouble.” And he’s out of the car and by my side before I can even clear the door.
I’m not afraid of him. Drake, I know, may be a cheese ball, but he’s not a sex offender.
At least, I don’t think he is.
Besides,I tell myself,Tori’s home.
My sister may not have spoken to me since Tuesday night, but she wouldn’t turn a deaf ear on me if I started screaming on our front porch.
Drake takes my hand as we walk up the steps, and while I don’t return the grip, I can’t bring myself to pull away. It would be rude, and it might hurt his feelings. We reach my front door, and I’m pretty certain he’s going to try to kiss me.
Would one kiss really be so bad? I mean, there won’t be any chemistry. I’m sure I’d feel like a mannequin to him. That might take care of this whole crush thing without me actually having to tell him—
“Do you think I could come in?”
Coming in means more than a kiss goodnight. I force myself to look up and meet his gaze. Drake looks confident. And eager. I bite my lip.
“It’s… really late.”
Leering, Drake gives a slow shake of his head. “It’s only ten-thirty.”
“Yeah, but I have a ten o’clock class in the morning.”
He raises his hand and grazes a thumb down my cheek. My heart thumps higher in my chest than it technically should.
“I’ll make sure you sleep soundly afterwards.”
My too-high heart drops somewhere around my liver. “Drake, I don’t… I don’t think—”
“Jesus Christ.”
The curse cuts through the night air. I jerk my head toward the street where the sound issued, but the glow of my front porch light has thrown everything beyond the steps into darkness. Still, I see a shadow, broad and swift, move across my lawn.
“The word isno,Evie,” the shadow growls. “Two letters. One syllable.”
I fast blink. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, yet nothing else makes sense.
“Drew?”
He mounts the steps and is towering over Drake, his eyes like a viper’s, slitted and unblinking. I watch Drake swallow and take a measured step backward, but then he squares his shoulders.
“Who are you?” Drake asks, irritation ringing in his voice.
“Andrew Moroux, Evie’s neighbor. I just got out of Angola on Monday.”
Drake splutters a laugh. “Bullshit.” Then he turns to me. “Evie, let’s go inside.”
“No.”
Again, the word is Drew’s, not mine.
I glance back and forth between the two men. Drake looks confused and harassed, but Drew looks ice cold. Glacial. Like nothing in the world could move him off my front porch. Did I say there was nothing scary about him? I need to revise that. Because standing beside me, casting a shadow over Drake, he looks pretty scary.
