She didn’t. I mean, why would she? Except maybe she’s waiting for me to text her. But it’s two in the morning and what am I going to say? What’s up? That’s dumb.

So whatever. I’ll wait.

I don’t even have to close my eyes to picture the way her hair sort of lit up in the sun.

I don’t even know why she’d text me, anyway.

God, I’d kill for a teriyaki stick right now.

My phone buzzes and my gut reaction is, Maybe it’s Kayla, which basically feels like my guts have been electrocuted, but then I look and it’s just Nick and I’m weirdly bummed—weird only because I didn’t explicitly ask her to text me (did I?)—and I have to remind myself to stop being an idiot.

Nick’s text: “Nothing tmrw, right?”

I text back: “Nada. You’re off the hook from here on out.” No more family parties, family photos, family commitments for a family that’s not his. We get a few days to chill before he has to peace out.

He sends a thumbs-up.

I plug my phone into its charger and roll onto my stomach to get some sleep. I’m not going to obsess about this girl tonight. I’m not even going to think about her, I promise myself, which basically guarantees she’s all I’ll think about. It’s so stupid. I hardly know her. I’d never even talked to her until—what was it? Four days ago? Five? It was the day Nick got here, which was Tuesday, so I guess five days ago now? Practically nothing.

I mean, I knew about her, obviously. Everyone knows what happened between Kayla Scott and J.R. Voss. Plus, we went to high school together and everything, but she was a sophomore when I was a senior—not that age matters to her, considering what happened with Mr. Voss.

On the day Nick got here, when we pulled into the parking lot by the beach and saw those guys shit-talking Kayla, I was shocked but not surprised to hear them calling her a cocktease and jailbait and a slut, but the really disturbing part was how Kayla was with her little sister. I mean, come on. That’s a little off-sides. The two of them were holding hands and had their heads down, just trying to cross the road, but those douche bags were blocking the exit and making stupid-ass porn sounds like a bunch of crazy cavemen. Nick doesn’t know anyone here, so he had nothing to lose by shouting at them, “Yo, what’s your problem?”