Seconds later, I have the phone to my ear and him on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

I almost break down as soon I hear his soft voice.

“Dee?”

“Hey, Dad. How are you?”

“Is something wrong?” he asks, his concern for me making me stronger.

“No, I just woke up. I had a dream about you.”

“Oh? What was it?”

“I dreamt I was at home and still had to eat your pork chops and green beans,” I lie.

My dad breaks into big belly laughter that dries my tears and makes me smile. Even though he was the one who raised me, he never mastered the art of cooking, and he never met a pork chop he couldn’t burn. “Keep it up and that’s what we’ll have every holiday you come home,” he teases.

I wipe the last of my tears away with the heel of my palm. “I miss you, Dad.”

“I miss you too. Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I going to have to call Rowan?”

God, so many things are wrong, I wouldn’t even know where to start. But I can’t tell my dad about any of them or he’d want me to quit school and go somewhere closer to home. It was hard enough leaving him on his own as it was. And he’d also want me to press charges against Cody, but Rowan and I already had that argument, and I’m not going to change my mind. I want to put what happened with Cody in the past and leave it there, and I know that’s selfish, but it is what it is. I’m also guessing the only reason Cody didn’t press charges against Joel was because of the leverage I have.

“I think I want to quit my job,” I tell my dad. It’s at least part of the truth, and it’s as much as I can share. I blew off a shift last night that I may or may not get fired for, and I have no desire to deal with annoying customers this week or to potentially run into Aiden after what I did with him a few nights ago. Now, the memory just makes me sick.

“Did something happen?”

“No. I just hate people.”

My dad laughs again, eliciting another smile. “You know you never needed to get that job in the first place. I just want you to concentrate on school. How are your classes going?”

I sit up and crisscross my legs, propping my elbows on my knees and tugging on my tangled hair. “Midterm grades are going to be posted soon . . . and mine aren’t going to be pretty BUT,” I say before he can interrupt me, “I’m going to do better, I swear.”

A pause, and then, “How ‘not pretty’ are they going to be?”

Another pause, and I admit, “I probably shouldn’t even tell you.”

My dad sighs. “But you’re going to make them prettier?”

“Starting today.”

“You swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

“And you’re going to come home some weekend soon to see your dear old dad?”

I chuckle into the phone. “Of course. Easter’s right around the corner. I’ll even cook the whole time I’m home.”

“I think I’d rather take you out to celebrate the good grades you’re going to get.”

Oh, daddy guilt—he sure knows how to lay it on thick. “It’s a deal.”

As soon as I get off the phone, I launch my plan into action. Step one: skip my history class because I didn’t study for the big midterm we have today. Step two: go to the doctor’s with a fake cough so I have an excuse for missing the big midterm we have today.

I go to my first two classes but skip the last. I’m sitting in the waiting room of the student health center when my phone dings and I read a text from Joel.

Come over after school.

Why?

Do I need a reason?

Actually, now you need 10 or I’m not coming over.

I smile wide when the texts start coming through one at a time.

1. I miss your hot body.

2. I miss your hot face.

3. I want to see what you’re wearing.

4. I’m bored and hungry so we should go eat.

5. Adam is busy writing and won’t let me help.

6. Shawn won’t let me borrow his car b/c he’s lame.

7. Have I mentioned you’re hot?

8. You’re smiling right now.

9. I care about you. ;)

When a shadow falls over me, I look up into the scowling face of an angry Mrs. Doubtfire. “Didn’t you see the sign?”

Of course I saw the sign. The stupid one about turning your phone off in the building. The one no one pays attention to. “What sign?”

“You need to turn your phone off,” she orders.

I turn it on silent and shove it back in my purse, killing her with an oversweet smile. My name is called a few minutes later and I’m taken to a patient room where a rookie doctor buys my sob story. He writes me a note—and a prescription, which I toss into the trash on my way out—and then I’m walking to my car and rooting my phone back out of my purse.

10. I have a surprise for you.

Oh, that boy likes to play dirty.

What kind of surprise?

The kind you’ll need to come here to get.

When I find myself glaring and smiling at the same time, I growl at my phone and bury it back in my purse. Twenty minutes later, my car is parked in front of Adam’s apartment building and my heels are clicking down the fourth-floor hall.

I knock on the door to apartment 4E and immediately hear Rowan yell, “NO! You stay in the kitchen!” A few seconds later, she swings the door open, her face twisted with exasperation. I reach forward to wipe a smudge of flour off her nose before following her into the living room.