Betwixt, Before, Beyond by Melissa Pearl Read Free Book Online Page B

pisses me off.
    "Look this is all your fault!"
    "My fault?" He points to himself.
    "Yeah! If you hadn't been swimming around in the back of my brain with your you should know better look, I would have just done it and then he wouldn't have driven off without me."
    Anger courses over Dale's face. I can sense his struggle to stay calm.
    "Okay, so you're saying, that if you'd had sex with that jackass, everything would have been better?"
    "At least I'd be alive."
    "You're not dead yet." Dale slams the door, pockets my phone and starts marching back towards the change rooms. I run to catch up with him. Anger is still pulsing out of him, but his voice is calm when he asks me, "Do you remember where you were?"
    "No." I shake my head. "It was really dark and there were a ton of trees. I'm not sure if I fell there or if I was walking home and maybe I slipped?
    Breaths snort out of Dale's nose.
    "I can't believe you date that jerk. He left you in the middle of nowhere!"
    I have nothing to say. Dale's right. Trent is a jerk and I had been dating him for nearly five months. Shame washes over me as Dale continues his little rant.
    "When I think about his hands all over you it makes me want to puke."
    "Thank you, Mr. Pious, but I didn't ask for your opinion."
    "It's not about being pious." Dale suddenly spins around. He's looking straight at me, not that he knows it. "The only person who should be touching you like that is someone who loves you and that dickhead doesn't."
    His words hurt like hell and I can't help muttering, "If that's the criteria, no one would ever touch me."
    I watch his gaze fill with sadness as he steps towards me.
    "You know it's scum like Trent," he points back to the parking lot, "that make you believe that crap."
    I'm left speechless as he turns and walks away.
    It takes a few moments for my legs to get moving. I feel like someone is squeezing my heart to putty. What does he know anyway?

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    I decide to wait outside the change room this time. When Dale reappears he's scrolling through my phone and looking a little worried.
    "What did you find?" I peer over his shoulder.
    He flinches then let's out his breath. "Are you okay?"
    "Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't feel like watching a bunch of sweaty guys get showered and dressed."
    His face brightens with his little half smile.
    I walk beside him as he weaves his way through the corridors.
    "Looks like your mom's tried calling a few times this morning."
    I want to say, "That'd be a first," but swallow the words back down. I had to give Mom some credit. She did look worried this morning... until she turned her car around and headed for a meeting. My insides simmer.
    "Do you think I should call her back?"
    "And say what? Yeah, hi, I'm the guy that lives just round the corner, you wave to me occasionally, but we never really talk. I happen to have your daughter's phone ... which I stole from Trent's car. Oh! And did I mention I can hear her voice in my head. She's a ghost by the way."
    "Okay, okay, I get it." He slips the phone into his back pocket. "And for your information, reclaiming property is not stealing."
    "It is when the property's not yours."
    "Fine." Dale pulls out my phone and holds it in the air. "You hold it then."
    I throw him a dark look and mutter, "Touché."
    His smirk jumps into place as we bypass the cafeteria and head towards the opposite end of the school.
    "Where are you going? Do you not eat?"
    He stops outside one of the ICT suites and turns the latch.
    "I have more important things to do today." He pushes the door with his shoulder and holds it open for me.
    "I'm through."
    He lets the door go and walks to a computer at the back of the room.
    "Are you allowed in here?"
    Pulling out a chair, he plops onto it.
    "Mr. Attley doesn't mind seniors in here at lunchtime. We're fine, Nicky. Don't worry about it."
    I shuffle up beside him.
    "It's Nicole."
    "What?"
    "My name's Nicole," I repeat with a sigh.
    "I know." He brings the screen