Black Hill High

Chapter 18

Jake hadn't told anyone about the threatening text. How he'd been marked for death. He feigned nonchalance whenever he's in company, and indulged in solitary panic. He didn't want anyone to have to worry about him. Especially Seth.

He'd always felt as if it were his job to protect Seth. To keep him safe. Seth shouldn't have to worry about him. That's his job. He'd always been the caretaker and a threatening text isn't going to change it. However, he has been taking the role of caretaker to another level as he's been incessantly hovering over his brother.

The text was intended to scare him. Make him fear for his life. It only made him fear for Seth's. If something were to happen to him - who would take care of Seth?

He shakes off the paranoia and returns to repairing his bike.

The abnormally searing sunrays beam against his bare back. He angrily wipes the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand.

The snap of a camera steals his attention. He glances to his right as Abigail has her phone raised in front of her face. Her mischievous grin angers him.

"What do you want Abigail?" He glumly questions as he reaches for the cloth in his back pocket.

"Rude," She scoffs. "I thought we could hang out."

"I'm kind of busy." He gestures to his bike.

She doesn't seem to notice his disinterest in socializing. Or she's blatantly ignoring his stand-offish attitude.

"What are you doing next Friday?"

I'll probably be dead by then. He morbidly thinks.

"Nothing."

"Great!" She exclaims. "You can be my date to the winter ball."

He scoffs.

"No."

The simplistic word is like a knife to the heart as her jaw nearly dislodges. Why would he say no?

"Excuse me?"

"I said no." He shrugs. "I'm not in the mood for high school drama."

She didn't know how to react. In all the time they'd known each other, this is the first time Jake had ever rejected her advances. The ambivalence of emotions washes over her like a tidal wave.

She wanted to scream and cry. Beg him and punch him. She'd sensed their relationship had hit rock bottom months ago, but she didn't want to believe it. It terrified her how much she cared for someone that couldn't give a damn about her.

With a deep intake of breath, she squares her shoulders before glancing at him with a pretentious glare.

"Fine," She scoffs. "Good luck being miserable and alone for the rest of your life."

She states before stomping off. She wishes nothing more in the world than to eliminate Jake Gallagher permanently from her life.

The annual Winter Ball is rapidly approaching and it has been a welcoming distraction from all the misadventures that have taken place over the last few months. Amelia has never been one for these trivial events, but she's craving a moment of normalcy. A moment where she can feel like a teenager again and not an overburdened middle-aged woman. The stress has been getting to her and she wants a moment to let loose and have fun.

"Are you sure you want to go to the ball alone?" Lillian questions from behind the curtain of the changing room.

She'd spent the entire morning trying to find the perfect outfit - claiming that it's a right of passage. She gazes at the stack of dresses that Lillian insists on trying on and collapses on the leather seat with a defeated sigh.

"It's not like I have a choice." She bitterly replies.

The one person she wants to go with has made his feelings clear after claiming he doesn't have a romantic attraction toward her. She can't be upset with him for being honest with her, but it does nothing to diminish the embarrassment. It doesn't help that she accused him of being a murderer. Again. At least it wasn't to his face this time.

Not wanting to talk about the topic any longer she stands and hoists her bag strap over her shoulder.

"I'll be right back." She calls and scatters off before Lillian could object.

She exits the boutique and takes a deep breath as her lungs happily welcome the fresh, earthy air. She spots a café across the street and her mouth salivates at the thought of caffeine. With a pep in her step, she crosses the street. The doorbell dings as she enters. A couple at a nearby table glance at the new arrival before diving back into the conversation.

"Amelia." She freezes at the familiar voice and silently curses for coming to the café.

"Hey." She awkwardly greets as Ethan is standing with his arms behind his back.

He rocks back and forth on his heels.

"How have you been?" He attempts to make conversation.

"Fine." She rebuffs his lame attempt.

Eyes piercing the back of her head make the hairs on the nape of her neck rise and she spins so fast she might have whiplash. She notices a figure hurriedly move away from the window. Without saying anything else to Ethan, she marches out of the café and notices a familiar figure attempting to hide behind a tree. She struts towards it and peers around, catching the person off guard.

"Officer Nichols, what are you doing?" She questions and he jumps at the unexpected company.

"Amelia," He happily greets. "Didn't think I'd bump into you."

She rolls her eyes at his fake innocence and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Then why are you hiding from me?" His eyes glance from left to right as if planning an escape route.

She challengingly raises her eyebrows and he sighs in defeat at her menacing stare.

"Don't be mad, but your dad's asked me to keep an eye out for you." He states. "I'm just doing my job."

"Have you been following me this entire time?" Her voice raises an octave higher.

"A few weeks, actually."

Her eyes widen at the confession and she takes a few steps back. How did she not notice he'd been following her? She hoists her bag strap higher on her squared shoulders.

"Thanks, officer Nichols, but I don't need a babysitter." She angrily states before marching back to the boutique.

She sits down in the same leather seat. Lillian is still preoccupied with her variety of dresses to notice she's back. She opens her bag and digs around for her phone, but her hands grip an envelope instead. With furrowed brows, she opens the seal and admires the craftsmanship of the letter. However, the words produce an opposite feeling inside of her.

Save me a dance, can't wait to see you.