23
Jessica
“Was it totally freaky?” Crystal bombarded me with questions as she sat in Eric’s chair, taking advantage of the few minutes before class. It was a half-day, caused from teacher-parent meetings, and our schedules were flipped, so our homeroom would be our last hour. Eric wouldn’t walk in until the bell rang.
“No,” I giggled, shaking my head. “It was nice.”
“Nice?” Crystal raised her eyebrows and frowned. “That’s so boring.” She was looking for gossip.
“It was homework,” I reminded her. “How exciting were you expecting it to be?”
“It is the Welborn house,” she said, tapping my desk with her pen. “I was expecting a little bit of blood.”
I cringed at her joke, remembering Eric’s injuries. When he walked me out, his stride was stiff, and I knew he was sore from his so-called accident.
Crystal’s dark eyes flickered over my expression, and she straightened up. “There was blood!”
“A little,” I confessed.
“Oh?” She rocked Eric’s chair back as she gaped at me. “What happened? Some freaky, satanic ritual before you were allowed to enter?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nothing like that,” I said, aggravated by her exaggeration. “He must have gotten into a fight,” I clarified. “His knuckles were all shredded.”
“Ew.”
I nodded, reflecting on last night. Eric opened up to me, and I couldn’t get his expression out of my mind. He was calm, even when he talked about something I thought was too personal for him to share with anyone, let alone me. I wanted to know where that Eric had been all semester. Between the instance at the willow tree and his house, I didn’t know what to believe. Was he nice or mean? I couldn’t decide. After meeting his family, I couldn’t completely blame him. In fact, I sympathized with him. My family still hadn’t relented on our agreement toward my biological family, and I was about to lose it.
I looked past Crystal and stared as Eric walked into the classroom. His face was down, and his brown hair waved in front of his green eyes. He switched off his headphones, meeting my gaze as the bell rang.
Lips curling into a smirk, he hovered away from the table, leaning against the teacher’s desk and allowing Crystal to finish her conversation. As she continuously ranted, I wasn’t even listening to her.
“At least you guys finished your project,” Crystal said, oblivious to Eric’s arrival.
“What?” I forced myself to turn away from Eric. “I thought Robb and you finished early.”
“We did,” she said, touching her short hair. “But Robb isn’t coming to school today. He, apparently, had family business to take care of, so we’re being deducted ten percent from our presentation.”
“That sucks.”
“You’re telling me,” she said, biting her nails. “I sent our teacher an email, and she didn’t even care.” She rolled her eyes but patted my leg. “Who knew Welborn could care more than Robb?”
“Hey.”
We both jumped, our conversation halting as we turned around. Eric stood inches away, and the teacher hovered behind him, crossing her arms. I hadn’t even seen them approach.
“Er—Eric,” I managed, and Crystal stared.
“Hey, Jessica,” he said, turning his gaze to my friend. “Crystal.”
“Welborn.” She returned the acknowledgement with a cold tone. “Hey.”
His smirk faltered, and his lips thinned. “I hate to interrupt,” he said, swinging his hand over his shoulder to point at our teacher. “But I probably need my seat.”
Ms. Hinkel cleared her throat, and Crystal scrambled to gather her things. “Sorry, ma’am,” she said, standing up. “I’ll talk to you after class, Jess.”
Crystal practically ran for her desk, while Eric calmly sat in his seat. He swung his backpack onto the ground, allowing his green eyes to linger on me. “Did you bring your half?” he asked, raising his brow.
I fought a blush as I placed my stack of papers on our desk. He didn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes scanned the first page, and he smirked, laying a finger on the first sentence. “You have a spelling error.”
“What?” I leaned forward, grasping the paperwork. He was right. My stomach sank. “Oh, no.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, chuckling as he laid a thicker stack down. “I retyped the entire thing.”
My jaw dropped. “You rewrote everything?”
“And added some,” he said. “I had a lot of free time after you left.”
That’s it. This boy is crazy.
“But I’d suggest you put it in page protectors,” he said, opening his bag before he pulled out a binder and materials. “Ms. Hinkel would love that.”
“I’d really love it if you two stopped talking,” Ms. Hinkel said, and I froze, feeling the entire classroom focus on my back.
“Sorry for interrupting,” Eric said, barely looking at her as he leaned away from me.
She nodded, turning to the class. “I hope everyone remembered today’s presentations,” she said. “We’ll start off with Annie and Justin.”
The two students went to the front of the classroom and fidgeted with their paperwork. They began to talk, and I ran my hands over the slick page protectors. Slowly, as I listened, I put each paper in one, hoping Ms. Hinkel wouldn’t lecture me on my lack of focus.
For thirty minutes, students flocked to the front, stumbling over themselves as they tried to explain miscellaneous sections from our book. It was painful to watch. Most kids were too embarrassed to be comfortable in front of the class, and I dreaded going myself. Would Eric even talk? I doubted it.
Through my peripherals, I glanced at my science partner as he fell asleep. He leaned his chair back on two prongs, but it didn’t budge. Somehow, even in sleep, he kept the seat balanced. It was almost supernatural.
Ring.
Eric’s green eyes shot open as the lunch bell pierced the air, and he sat forward, placing all four legs of the chair on the ground. He muttered to himself and stretched out his cramped arm. His knuckles cracked, and I cringed, realizing he removed his braces from the night before.
The class shuffled through the door, but the teacher blocked the doorway. “I’ll finish the remaining presentations in private,” she said. “But the rest of the class can go. Just behave. Don’t make me regret it.”
A few students cheered, and she moved aside, smiling as the students rushed to lunch. Eric’s brow lowered, and I stood up and crossed the room to Ms. Hinkel. “Aren’t we the only ones left?” I asked, knowing we were the last presentation.
She nodded. “Did you finish?” she asked, her gaze lingering on Eric.
Eric raised his chin. “The whole thing is right here, teach,” he said, waving his hands in front of him.
Ms. Hinkel raised her brow, turning to me. “Did both of you work on this?”
My eyes slit into a glare, but I fought my anger and relaxed my face. “We finished it together,” I said, and Ms. Hinkel’s lips thinned.
“We could do it now,” she said, and I wanted to scream at her power trip.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I froze as Eric stood by my side. “We can do that,” he said.
Crystal hovered in the doorway. “Want me to wait for you? I thought we could go prom dress shopping.”
I opened my mouth, but Ms. Hinkel shook her head. “This is going to take a while,” she said. “I presume you have your own way of getting home, Ms. Taylor?”
“No—”
“I’ll take her home,” Eric said, and everyone froze. He shrugged, waving a pair of sparkling car keys in the air. “I drove today; it really isn’t a big deal.”
“Very well,” Ms. Hinkel blinked. “Ms. Hutchins, you may go.”
Crystal’s dark eyes widened as she stared at me. “You okay with that, Jess?”
I nodded before the thought occurred to me. “See you later,” I said, and she dipped out of the room without another word
.
Eric pulled the binder from my hands and laid it in front of the teacher. “I expect that you’ll find this adequate,” he said, and she straightened, taking the project from him.
She adjusted her glasses, turning to walk to her desk. Eric winked at me, and I spun away from him to hide my face. Was he flirting? I watched Ms. Hinkel as she hummed, circling a red pen over our paperwork. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, knowing I needed a perfect grade if I had any chance at finding my biological parents. My grade rested solely on Eric’s work, and I was still in disbelief that he’d edited it.
In a matter of minutes, Ms. Hinkel closed the binder and sighed. She twiddled her fingers and removed her glasses, staring at Eric before looking at me. “Very good, you two,” she said. “I’m quite impressed, especially considering how you had nothing done last week.”
Eric ignored her comment. “What’s the grade?”
“Excellent,” she said.
“When will it be available for our parents to see?” he asked, and I stared at him. He remembered?
“A few days,” she said, waving us toward the door. “You can leave now. I have to prepare for my meetings.”
“Any way you can show this to Jessica’s parents tonight?” he pressed, and my body tensed.
“They aren’t going to make it,” I said, and Eric’s brow rose. The teacher nodded, and he grabbed his things. After that, he picked up mine and headed for the door.
In an instant, he was by my side, and his hand lingered on my back as he steered me out. “Come on, Jessica,” he murmured, and I followed his touch as if I was hypnotized.
We walked through the emptied hallways, and Eric opened the door to the parking lot. “Where do you live?” he asked, and I gave him my address. He nodded, and I wondered how he knew the streets so well. Right. Because Hayworth was tiny.
He didn’t speak as we neared one of the last cars in the parking lot, and I stopped, staring at his vehicle. It was an old black car, clearly refurbished, but I didn’t know much more than that. It looked brand-new, although I knew it had to be generations old. It only had two doors, and the hood stuck out, but the slick paint was unscathed.
“This is yours?” I asked, and he unlocked the passenger door.
“It’s a 1966 Charger,” he said. “What do you think?” He opened my door before going around to his side to get in.
I stood outside of his car, and he leaned over, staring up at me. “Are you coming or not?” he asked, turning over the engine. Music blared from his speakers.
I nodded, unsure if he would hear me if I did speak, and sat next to him. I buckled my seatbelt and hugged my bag to my chest. Why did I agree to this?
I tensed as he leaned over and turned his music down, driving out of the parking lot. “You can relax, Jessica,” he said, chuckling as his green eyes focused on the road. “I’m not going to crash.”
“I don’t know that,” I said. “I didn’t even know you drove.” Because you get picked up every day by Teresa—whoever she is.
Eric’s smirk dissipated. “You think I can’t drive because I have a chauffeur,” he said, pointing out my thoughts as if he could hear them.
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“I’d think the same thing.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t have this until last night.”
“Present?” I asked.
He nodded, but his jaw locked. He wasn’t going to tell me why.
“Is it your birthday?” I asked, pushing for information, and he turned away, surveying the road.
“No.”
I dug my nails into my backpack. Why’d he have to be upset all the time? “It’s a really nice car,” I said, attempting to change the mood, and he smiled again. He looked better when he was happy, but it was so rare, I questioned if it was a mirage.
“I prefer manual transmissions and speed,” he said. His father hadn’t gotten him everything he wanted. “But don’t worry,” he continued. “I won’t speed with you in the car.”
I sighed. “Thanks,” I said, gazing out the window. It was a nice day. People were outside, walking their dogs and jogging. Spring was arriving faster than I expected. The weather was so strange in the Midwest. One day, it was freezing; the next, it was hot and humid.
“She didn’t look too happy,” Eric spoke suddenly, breaking our silence.
I turned my eyes away from the road. “I think the teacher loved our project.”
“I meant Crystal.”
My brow furrowed, and I fought desperately to remain silent, but I couldn’t. “She’s not sure about you, Eric.”
“I know,” he said, completely unfazed. “I heard.”
My stomach sank. “You eavesdropped?” But how? He wasn’t even in the room when we were talking about him. Yet I believed him. His tone was too serious.
His lips twisted into a grin. “One of my many hobbies.”
“Not many people would consider that a hobby.”
“Fair enough.” He laughed. “It’s one of my many talents.”
I glared at his sarcasm. “What are your other talents?”
His green eyes lit up, but they remained on the road. “That’s not fair, Jessica,” he said. “I’ve told you one of mine; you should tell me one of yours.”
My stomach twisted. He wanted to know more about me. “Fine,” I began hesitantly, wondering what he was thinking. “I’m good at telling if people are lying or not.”
“Lying?”
I nodded. “You don’t believe me?”
His shoulders dropped. “Care to test your talent?” he asked, barely speaking, and I tensed.
“Go for it,” I dared, and he tapped his steering wheel.
“My favorite color is silver, I’m seventeen, and I wish I was still a kid.”
I watched his face, but his expression never changed. His eyes never flickered, his throat never tensed, his hands hardly moved. He was impossible to read. His solid expression suggested one thing, all truth or all lies. And he couldn’t be telling the truth. “They’re all lies,” I said.
He shook his head, and his brown hair shifted along his brow. “None of them are.”
I swallowed. Hadn’t his childhood been horrible? I didn’t understand.
“It’s not much of a talent if you’re not good at it,” he said, returning to his cynical self.
“I’m good at it,” I argued, tightening my hold on my bag. “You’re just intimidating.” The words left me before I knew them.
He smiled. “Intimidating?” he asked. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
My jaw dropped. “You must be joking.”
“Lying actually,” he said, barely glancing over. He illuminated. “Another one of my talents—which, by the way, you didn’t catch. Again.”
I grinded my teeth. “I can do it.”
“I’m sure,” he chuckled as he turned the steering wheel, missing the shortest route to my house. Did he do that on purpose? “I believe this means you owe me two of your talents.”
I dug my nails into my palm, positive he was two steps ahead of me. Arguing with him was not only impossible, it was a trap. I turned away and glared out the window, wishing he hadn’t missed the side street.
“You look mad,” he said, quieter this time.
I wouldn’t look at him. “I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t get you,” I admitted. “I have no idea why you’re acting this way, and it makes me feel like I don’t know you.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted to know me,” he said, and I turned around, momentarily meeting his eyes. They were dark, shadowed by an expression I hadn’t seen before.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, feeling heat crawl over my neck. “We’ve already spent a lot of time together.”
“For a project that’s completed, Jessica,” he said, and he shook his head, driving silently through my neighborhood. I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. Soon, we were at t
he end of my driveway. Eric shoved the gears into park, and I reached for the door, but he locked it.
“Why are you so interested in my life?” he asked, and my heart pounded. I didn’t say anything. His eyes met mine, filled with an intensity that made me shudder. “It’s not that great.”
“I know,” I managed. My voice was shaking.
His face reddened. “But you ask questions.”
“And you answer them.”
His mouth opened, but then it snapped shut. He sighed, turned away, and grabbed the steering wheel as if he were driving again. We remained parked. “I’m Eric James Welborn,” he stated, his voice wavering into an awkwardness I’d never heard with his normally confident and cocky attitude.
James? His middle name felt personal—like he had opened up a side of himself he’d forgotten about. But I didn’t feel intrusive. I felt comforted, like I already knew the answer before he’d spoken it. But I hadn’t.
“Your name doesn’t tell me who you are,” I said, surprised by my fluidity.
He barely smiled. “Maybe I like it that way.”
“I don’t.”
His head dropped. “You don’t always get what you want, Jessica.”
“Most of the time, you do,” I debated stubbornly, knowing my desperation was evident. I didn’t even believe my words.
His face scrunched, and he peered at me through his hair. “I don’t know what world you come from, but I can’t relate.”
“What do you mean?” What did he want that he couldn’t have? I wanted to know.
His lips thinned. “That’s a different story for another time.”
“A different story or a different lie?”
“I don’t know.” He smirked. “Use your talent and tell me.” His eyes darted behind me, and he straightened up. “I think your mother wants you inside,” he said, and I spun my torso.
My mother was leaning out an upstairs window, waving her hands wildly. “Jessie!” Her shout broke the barriers of the car, and my entire body tensed.
Eric chuckled beneath his breath. “Jessie?” he asked.
“Don’t,” I said, raising my hand to him as I grabbed the handle with my free one. He unlocked it before I even remembered to check, and I opened it, stepping out. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for the conversation,” he said. “See you later, Jessica.”
“Bye,” I said, shutting the door to our conversation and my embarrassment. He drove away, and I watched his black car zip through the street. What had gotten into me? I didn’t know, but I hated to admit the truth. I liked it, and I hoped he meant his words.
I wanted to see him again.
Minutes Before Sunset Page 27
