“Thank you so very much for stealing my notebook and having the decency to give it back,” I say. “Now, if you would please continue to leave me the hell alone for the rest of the day—No, the rest of the year, I’d really appreciate it.” I don’t give him a chance to respond. I rush to the bus stop and lean against one of the posts.

A slight drizzle begins to fall and I look down the street, hoping that the headlights of a yellow bus will soon appear.

I take out my earbuds and turn up my music. It’s going to take me a minute to return to my original happy mood.

Just as I’m starting to calm down, I see a black Camaro pull in front of me. It’s Dean.  Again.

I turn around and give him a great view of my back. I turn my music up louder, just in case he tries to talk to me, but my headphones are the cheap, flimsy kind and they don’t have outside sound block.

“Let me take you home to make up for stealing your notebook, Mia,” Dean says, actually sounding sincere.

I ignore him and start nodding along to my music, hoping he’ll just go away.

I knew I was right for hating him...

“Mia...” He speaks again. “Mia, have you noticed that you’re the only one at the bus stop? The last one left ten minutes ago.”

I glance at my watch and groan. I’ve forgotten that the new after-school bus schedule starts today.

Shaking my head, I turn around and start walking. There’s a city bus stop six blocks down.

I expect Dean to go away, but he doesn't. He stays on pace with me in his car, driving alongside me as I stride up the sidewalk.

Whenever I speed up, he speeds up. Whenever I cross streets, he makes a U-turn and does the same. And when I reach a crosswalk with a pedestrian stoplight, he tries his luck again.

“Look, Mia,” he says, leaning over the passenger seat. “Let me take you home.”

“Not interested.”

“Well, at least let me take you to the next bus stop.”

“A four block ride? No thanks.”

“So, you’re really going to walk all the way home in the rain?”

I hesitate, now realizing that the slight drizzle has turned into actual rain, and from the look of the skies above, it’s about to get even worse.

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I guess I really am going to walk all the way home in the rain. Thank you for your concern. Goodbye.”

He parks his car and gets out, walking over to me. Without saying a single word, he puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me to his car, opening the passenger door.

“Get in, Mia.”

The pedestrian light turns green and I want to back away, but hatred of Dean or not, I know I’m not going to last four more blocks in the rain.

I slip inside, and he shuts the door behind me. He returns to his place behind the wheel and drives through the light.

“Where do you live?” he asks, looking over at me.

“The corner of Seventh and Broadway.”

“Okay.” He turns on the radio, and I’m surprised to hear my favorite band blasting through the speakers. I almost compliment him on his good taste, but then I remember he’s a thief.

Thieves do not have good taste.

Neither of us speaks as he drives through the suburbs and onto the backstreets, obviously taking the scenic route. I can feel the tension building between us; I can even feel butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. Every so often, I catch myself staring at him, admiring his profile. I can’t help but turn away every time he glances back in my direction; him being so close to me has my body at full attention.

As we approach Seventh and Broadway, he slows the car’s speed. “Mia, you do not live here. This is just the entrance to your subdivision.”

“So? Did you really think I would give you my real address? I’ll walk the rest of the way. The rain isn’t that bad now.”

Smiling, he immediately speeds up—driving past the entrance, far down the street, and parks the car in an abandoned lot.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Go back. Go back right now.”

“I need your help with AP English.”

“I need your help with learning directions. My neighborhood is back there.”

He ignores my comment. “AP English is the only class I don’t have an A in.”

“What? You make A’s?”

“Yes.” He smirks. “I make A’s, except for English. I have a C plus and I need at least an A minus if I’m going to look appealing to colleges.”

“Wait a minute, what?” I temporarily put my annoyance aside. “You’re the star quarterback. You don’t need to make good grades to get an athletic scholarship. You just need to keep playing football. Isn’t that what you want?”

He doesn’t answer that. Instead he sighs. “I need you to help me with the literature components and help me strengthen some of my essays.”

“But why do you want me to help you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You have the best grade in the class and I’m pretty sure that being a smart ass, which you clearly are, requires quite a few brain cells, so I figure there’s no one better to ask.”

“Maybe, but I’m not interested.”

“I’ll pay you.”

I look at him for a second to see if he’s being serious. “Is that how you normally get what you want?”

“No, that’s not my normal method, but I figured you wouldn’t go for that, so I’m not going to go down that road with you.” That stupid grin is on his face again.

“My services don’t come cheap,” I say. “They’re very expensive.”

“Honestly, I’d be disappointed if they weren’t.”

“Then in that case, I’m sure you can’t afford me.”

“Try me.” He cranks the engine and drives, heading toward my subdivision again.

I contemplate for a moment, unsure of what tutors usually charge. Then I come up with a number I know he won’t agree to pay. “Twenty dollars an hour.”

“Deal,” he says smoothly.

“Deal? Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s a lot of money.”

“I’m sure you’ll be worth every penny.”

“Fine. We’ll start in two weeks.” I wait for him to drop me off at the corner, where I told him I lived, but he drives into the neighborhood instead.

Looking over at me, he warns, “I’m not letting you out of the car until you tell me which of these houses is yours. I need to make sure you get home safely.”

“So, now you’re a gentleman?”

“Only for some girls.” He smiles and I roll my eyes, deciding to give in so I can get this ride over with.

“5632...Down a few more houses and on your left.”

He nods and speeds up a bit, eventually pulling right in front of my mailbox.

“Thanks for the ride.” I immediately unbuckle my seatbelt and collect my bag from the floor.

“Wait a minute,” he says. “I need your phone number...For tutoring purposes, of course,” he adds with a sly smile.

He hands me his phone and I reluctantly type in my number. I save it under “For Tutoring Purposes of Course” and give it back to him before rushing inside my house.

As soon as I make it upstairs to my room, my cell phone buzzes with a text message notification. It’s an unknown number.

This is Dean. Here’s my number, you can save it under “For ANY Purposes Of Course...”

I should’ve known to stay away from him that very day...

PART I. 

The Past

(Don't worry...This won't take too long. It never takes a guy that long to fuck things up.)

Chapter 1

MIA

A couple weeks later...

I glance at the clock above the library’s door and groan for the umpteenth time.

I told Dean to meet me here at four o’clock, told him exactly where I would be and how important it was for him to be on time. Yet, unsurprisingly, he’s late. And it’s not even a nice “It’s only five minutes” type of late.