My Secret Deal 12

Jake’s POV

Jake: That middle finger was hot.

Jake: 10/10 execution. Travis looked like he was gonna cry.

Jake: You’re officially my favorite badass.

I stared at my screen, waiting for the read receipt. Nothing. It had been twenty minutes.

She saw it, I thought. She had to.

She’d been flawless out there — fearless, cocky, and cool. Like flipping off her ex in front of half the school was just another Tuesday.

And she looked damn good doing it.

Jake: Another bucket list item crossed off, huh? You’re on a roll, Waters.

Still nothing.

Mike glanced over from his locker. “Who you texting?”

I locked my phone fast. “No one.”

His brows lifted. “Right.”

I didn’t answer. Because it wasn’t anyone’s business.

Because no one could know. Not yet. Not when it could get her dragged through hell.

***

Hours has passed, but still no news from her. No text, no call and no response from her. Nothing.

I tried calling. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again—

I cursed under my breath and slammed the phone onto the dash.

At 7:45, I parked a block away from her house, headlights off, hood up. Stupid? Yeah. But I couldn’t sit still. Something felt off. Something tight in my chest that wouldn’t go away. I didn’t care about Travis. Or the win. Or whatever girl kissed me on the cheek.

I cared about her. And she was going silent. That wasn’t like Lily.

At 8:07, her parents’ car pulled into the driveway. She got out. Her shoulders were slumped. Her arms crossed. She looked… wrecked. Not physically. Not visibly. But I knew her well enough now to see it.

She was upset, and I wasn’t the one she came to.

I watched her walk inside. Then I sent one more text.

Jake: Are you okay?

She pulled out her phone. Looked at it. And walked inside. No reply.

***

I didn’t think. I just moved. Climbed the tree like I’d done it a hundred times. Slipped open the window. Stepped into her room like I had every right to be there.

I waited.

The door creaked open. She walked in, then froze.

I lunged forward, one hand over her mouth, the other steadying her.

“Shh,” I whispered. “It’s just me.”

Her eyes widened. Then I heard it — footsteps.

“Lily?” her mom called from down the hall.

Lily stared at me. I dropped my hand. She turned to the door.

“I’m fine!” she called. “Just a spider! I killed it!”

Her mom paused. Then walked away.

The second the hallway was silent, Lily spun around.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.

“You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

She crossed her arms. “So?”

“So I’ve been worried sick. I waited outside your damn house like a psycho!”

“You should leave.”

“Lily.”

“I mean it, Jake.”

“No,” I growled. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I told you—”

“You told me nothing.”

She turned away. And something in me broke.

I grabbed her wrist and pushed her gently — but firmly — against the wall.

She gasped, eyes wide. “Talk to me,” I said, voice low and sharp. “Why are you shutting me out?”

“I’m not—”

“Bullshit.”

Her chest rose and fell, breath catching. I leaned closer. Our bodies were almost touching. My hands braced beside her head.

“You don’t get to disappear on me,” I whispered. “Not after that night.”

Her lips parted. She looked up at me. And I lost it. I kissed her. Hard.