I obey. His hand inches up my inner thigh as his tongue makes slow strokes against mine.

I tug at his shorts, popping open the button.

He freezes, pulling away as his hands halt mine. “Stop.”

I’m bad at sex. That’s why he’s stopping. Or he doesn’t trust me to follow through. I’m a tease. He’s too smart to let me fool him twice, but I’m not fooling him. I’m ready to throw off my clothes alongside the road in broad daylight and let him fuck me blind.

“Jake …”

Sweat beads along his brow, accompanied by shallow breaths.

“Fuck …” He turns and vomits—over and over.

I cover my mouth in horror and then … in recognition. Oh my god, I poisoned him.

Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!

What if he dies? He can’t die. The one day he’s not awful, I poison him. Me and my stupid need to get revenge.

I don’t know what to say? Do I tell him why he’s vomiting? He’ll hate me. This morning I didn’t care if he hated me, now I kind of don’t want him to hate me—or die.

Easing out of the truck, I pat his back with a gentle hand. “Jake, are you okay?”

He expels one more round of smoothie—and my secret ingredient—before wiping his mouth. “No. I’m not okay.” The pasty white sheen of his skin worries me. It’s like his body has settled into the color it will be in his casket.

“Here.” I grab his water bottle from the truck.

“Thank you.” He takes it.

“No need to thank me.”

Awkward.

Jake rinses and spits, before drinking several long swigs. “Did the spinach feel slimy to you?”

Biting my lips together while cringing, I shake my head.

“It feels like food poisoning. What the hell did I eat that was bad?”

My eyebrows lift. “I-I don’t know.”

I poisoned you. I’m so incredibly sorry.

How do I fail at something as simple as revenge? He blew his disgusting wad onto my expensive T-shirt. He called me a princess, diva, and bitch. The list of reasons why he deserves to come close to dying is so long, I can’t even see the end of it with binoculars, but … when I’m not hating Jake, I kinda like him.

“We have to go. Get Swarley.”

“Go?”

“Just do it!” He walks around the truck, hunchbacked.

I get Swarley in the truck, and Jake fishtails back onto the main road.

“You’re um … going a bit fast.”

Eighty.

Eighty-five.

Ninety.

Holy shit! We’re burning down the road at ninety.

“Jake, I think you should slow down.”