ANYTHING BUT ENEMIES

37. lost and found

APPARENTLY HOPING TO not see Dane Anderson later was a futile wish.

"Cleo, why is your boyfriend knocking on our door?"

I groan from my spot on the bed, comfortable between two big pillows in a dark red rendition of my mom's silk pj set.

"If by boyfriend, you mean the guy that is 100% not and will never be such a thing, then I have no idea."

"Sweetheart, that could apply to a lot of guys."

I chuck one of my pillows across the room, nailing her in the back of the head as she looks through the peephole. Immediately she's spinning around to hurtle it back toward me. "The kid looks distressed."

"Don't let him in. He's probably coming to make my life a living hell."

"I'm letting him in."

My mouth drops open as I hear the click of the door opening, and I rush to pull the covers all the way up to my chin as I hear his voice.

"Is Cleodora here?"

"Yeah, she's over there."

Damn you to hell and back, Ruby.

Immediately, I try to play dead—or asleep. One of the two. Either way, I let my head fall into one of the pillows, arm cradling my face away from the door.

That doesn't stop Dane from trying to shake me awake.

"Ow, fuck."

His knee is pressed against my back in an instant, hand firm around the arm cradling my face. "What the—? You're not even asleep. Come on, get up."

"Don't tell me what to do, freak. And get off."

He lets go, sighing loudly but not making any move to stop leaning over me on the bed. My face burns.

Why the hell does he always see me in my most vulnerable states?

"Do you have my notebook?"

"What?"

"My notebook. Do you have it?"

"I heard you, that's not what I—Anyway, why are you asking me that?"

"Look, can you just answer the question? Or is this some kind of prank?"

I turn over onto my back to look up at him, squinting in annoyance. "I should be asking you that. What the hell is this? No, I don't have your notebook."

He stares at me. I stare back at him. From the corner of the room I can hear Ruby clear her throat.

"I don't think she has it, man."

"Yeah, well, I think she's a liar, notorious for not knowing how to use her words."

"You're an asshole, you know that?" I snap back.

"Oh? No, you've only said it about fifty million times." He stands up from my bed now, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "This is bad."

"Oh, boo hoo. Your diary's bound to turn up eventually." I sit up, shaking my head at him. "Someone will take a look inside and think they have the scribbles of a convict."

His eyes snap back over to me, lingering on the strap of my tank top, the way it slips off my shoulder. I quickly slide it back on, pulling the covers back up.

"You do realize all my shit's in that notebook, right? All my writing, notes—"

"Stalkerish observations," I interject, smirk twisting across my lips as he shoots me a look. "Hey, you'll find it. It'll all be okay."