One Eighty (Westover Prep Book 1) by James Marie

Author:James, Marie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bully romance
Publisher: MJB Publishing
Published: 2020-02-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Piper

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake.

The sentence is on repeat in my head, echoing over and over as Dalton makes his way around the front of the car. I’ve decided to call my mom to come pick me up by the time he climbs inside. There’s no way I need to spend another moment alone with this man. I did that last night and look where it got me.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I grumble when he cranks the car.

“Home is only a few miles away,” he says as he latches his seat belt across his chest.

If only he’d worn it that night.

But even as I think it, I can’t regret what happened. Even as horrible as it is and as much as I want to think differently, I know Dalton has changed. He hasn’t shown one hint of being the same guy he was before his car went off the ravine. Knowing this is my main cause for concern because as much as I can admit to tolerating, maybe even liking this new guy, it won’t last. The second he finds out I was driving the car or when his memories come back, it’s only going to make things worse.

“Did you follow me?”

Why else would he happen to show up during the single hour I had to spend with Dillon before he was due at the funeral home for his granddad’s viewing? The coincidence is just too much.

“Oh, shit,” he snaps, putting the car back in park before we even rolled back an inch. “Mom’s pie. Be right back.”

Like a kid hopped up on candy, he throws the door open and runs back into the diner. Instead of texting Mom, who’s at the funeral home anyway, I gawk at the door he just disappeared through. Am I so wrapped up in myself that I thought I was the only reason he’d show up here? What a joke.

He emerges a few minutes later with two pie boxes stacked on top of each other. He climbs back inside after placing them in the back seat.

“I can’t remember if she said apple and blueberry if they didn’t have it or the other way around.” He grins over at me. “So, I got one of each.”

“Is that…” I snap my jaw shut before finishing. I shouldn’t ask him things about the accident, but I’m dying to know if he has short-term memory loss as well.

“Is that, what?” he says as he pulls on his seat belt again.

“I shouldn’t ask you things about the accident. It’s rude, and I know I hate it when people ask me about it.” Mainly, because I don’t want to slip up and confess my role in it.

“What’s rude,” he begins, turning back in my direction with a pointed stare rather than making a move to reverse out of the parking spot, “is kissing me when you have a boyfriend.”

“You stole that kiss,” I remind him.

“You whimpered like you enjoyed it.

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