1642734778_punk-57-pdf

what’s going on in my head a lot. It’s hard for me.” I pause, feeling a little
more resolute. I want him to know. “But yeah, I like you.”
I know it’s not much, but it’s a lot for me, and I hope he knows that.
Admitting I like him makes me vulnerable, and that’s not usually a card I
ever give up. Not anymore.
Because, to be honest, I don’t just like him. It’s more than that. I think
about him.
I miss him when he’s not around.
It’ll hurt if he has to leave as suddenly as he appeared.
He’s quiet, and the heat of embarrassment blankets my skin. Awesome.
Good going, Ryen. Maybe all he liked about you was that you weren’t
clingy, and now you’re acting like you’re in love with him.
“When are we going to be there?” I ask, my tone curt as I try to change
the subject.
I watch as he slowly pulls over to the side of the road and parks next to
a wall of trees.
“We’re here now,” he answers.
I peer around the hedge, taking a better look, and then dart my eyes
around, taking in the quiet, spacious neighborhood.
“This is Trey’s house,” I point out, my guard definitely up now.
He nods, taking off his seatbelt. “There’s something of mine in there. A
family heirloom.” He gestures to Trey’s house on the right. “And I need it
back.”
“What are you talking about? Why would Trey have something of
yours?”
He shakes his head. “Not Trey.”
“What?”