Sweet: (Intermix) (True Believers) Read Free Page A

because I was a little stressed, I had to admit.
    The kid looked at me like I was a complete moron. “If you want to get off, you have to pull.” He reached over and yanked on a laundry line–type cord above the windows and I immediately heard a ding.
    “Oh.” Duh. Guess the driver wasn’t psychic. “Thanks.” The bus started to slow down, so I started to tug my bags into the aisle, regretting the “Stop following me. Follow Jesus.” sticker Kylie had bought for me as a joke and slapped on the front of my suitcase.
    For some reason, I expected the kid to offer to help, since he was so clearly interested in flirting with me. But he actually slipped around my bag like it was a nothing more than an obstacle, even as it fell sideways into the opposite seat. His friend followed him. The bus stopped, and I stumbled forward as I managed to haul both bags down the aisle, yelling, “I’m getting off at this stop!” to the bus driver in case he didn’t glance back.
    He glared at me in his large rearview mirror, obviously impatient with how long it was taking for me to exit.
    “Thanks,” I said, breathless, basically falling down the stairs in an avalanche of hair and luggage. Once on the curb, I readjusted so I could pull each bag with one hand and tried to ignore the fact that the two teenagers were just standing there on the corner, looking in no particular hurry to go anywhere, belts barely holding up their pants, arms already sporting a couple of tattoos. It was hot on the sidewalk, the air a humid mix of gas fumes from the bus and a chicken restaurant. The back of my neck got damp as I started walking.
    Immediately, I knew the boys were following me. So I paused and pulled out my phone, confirming the direction I was going in. Then I took a gamble and called Riley, propping the phone on my shoulder so I could keep walking. I didn’t think he would answer, because I didn’t know any guy who answered his phone, but I was starting to get weirded out. The neighborhood was what I had expected, and while it didn’t seem anything other than a little tired and lower income, I felt very obvious as an outsider. There were empty shops, a dingy restaurant, a tattoo parlor, a Check ’n Go kiosk, and potholes the size of a Volkswagen Beetle in the road. On the side street I turned down, the houses were close together, small, some of them run down. If anyone had grass, it was burned out, brown and dusty, or it was a breeding ground for pricker weeds. Some were as high as my knees as I trudged down the sidewalk, my purse bumping my breast with each step.
    Riley actually answered. “Hello.”
    “Hey! It’s Jessica. Um, I’m almost at your house. I, uh, took the bus, and I’m on your street and well . . .”
    I could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “You took the bus?”
    “Yeah. And I think these dudes are following me,” I murmured in as low of a voice as possible.
    “What? Shit.” There was rustling. “Keep walking. I’ll come get you.”
    “’K.” I dropped the phone on the sidewalk when I tried to end the call with my finger still hooked around the suitcase handle. Bending down to retrieve it, I looked back at the guys.
    One had a baseball hat on sideways, and now that they were off the bus they had both stripped off their T-shirts in the heat. One was tanned, the other glowing so starkly white, utterly hairless, and blinking against the sun, he looked like a baby mole. Now that I knew Riley was just a minute or two away, I felt more irritated than scared.
    “Why didn’t your man pick you up?” the one with the hat asked.
    I stood up, spotting a car coming up the street. “He is.” Relieved, I saw it was Riley as he pulled up and put the car in park.
    Leaving it running, he opened the door and got out. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, and I shook my head to try to get my sweaty hair out of my eyes, wishing I could fully appreciate his chest. But I was more concerned with