swollen and red, but he doesn't look about to cry anymore. “How did you get in here anyway?”
“I, uh, there was a hole in the wall and…” I point behind me, vaguely in the direction of the crumbled wall.
"Ah." He doesn't even look for the hole in the wall as he absently reaches over and plucks the Jeopardy theme absently on his guitar. "And you're still sticking to your guns that you didn't tip him off?"
"I wouldn't be here if I did," I offer lamely, because the moment I could've told him my heart has disappeared. And what would he do if I did admit it? Tell me to join the club with millions of other teenage girls? Or tell me very gently that there's someone else, but thanks for the admission? But what would it hurt, in the end? I'll never see him again. Balls to the wall, as Maggie put it. "And, Roman?"
"Mmh?"
"I—"
"Fuck." His eyes go wide, staring off in the direction of the entrance to the cemetery, and he jumps to his feet, pulling the guitar over his head. Then he looks at me, and suddenly I know that there is no way in hell he could ever love me back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It's not John this time, but the fine men of the Horry County Police Department. And they are heading straight toward us. Roman scowls, whirling back to me. "You told them! You—"
"Stop blaming me!" I snap, grabbing him by the forearm and tugging him toward the crack in the wall. I'm having flashbacks to the night we broke into the put-put course, but somehow I think the repercussions of this will be worse. Breaking in to hit balls off a fake pirate ship is one thing, but breaking into a cemetery during a vigil? Well.
"You there! Stop!" One of the policeman calls after us, but his voice only propels my feet to go faster. Under my fingers, Roman's practically vibrates with anger.
"Front page not enough, huh?" he hisses as we dash over a hill of gravestones. We cut around the statue of a weeping angel. "Fuck. A whole fucking year in Super 8 Motels and fuck good that did me. You come along and wham! Oh, look, I'm a household name again!"
"Oh please," I snap, because his temper's getting old—fast. "You love the attention."
"Not as much as you, apparently. You think that hair's bright enough?"
"And yours isn't?" I almost get sideswiped by a knee-high headstone, and I stumble. "And just so you know, I didn't give him that memory card. Those photos were on the local memory, asshole! Totally not my fault! If anything, it's yours for taking me with you!"
He shoots me a glare as we duck under a curtain of weeping willow vines. "You could've said no!"
"I did, back when you wanted to buy me ice cream."
We hit the back end of the cemetery, and the hole isn't here anymore. Did I get turned around? I scan the walls, but it must be hidden behind a willow? Stupid me—did I even come to this side of the cemetery? Roman curses and kicks the cement wall.
"I hope you and John are happy," he grumbles. "Tell him your life story. Go on. I'm sure it'll be a best-seller."
"Why the fuck would I tell him anything?"
"Because you hate me!" he roars.
I purse my lips. Nothing could be further from the truth.
"You know, this? This here?" He jabs a finger between us, so close I can smell the cinnamon and wet grass on his clothes. "There's a reason I don't make friends."
"Because you just wanted someone you could pull along for a while, right? You saw me and I tickled your fancy. I don't know why. I'm not pretty. I'm mundane. I'm going nowhere—even my boyfriend kept me a secret. Thanks for solidifying what I already knew."
"Well, you know what they say," he sneers. "Secrets don't make friends."
I fist my hands. The police appear over the last crest. Two of them have tasers out. Neither of us wants to be tased. Where the hell is that hole in the wall? If looks could kill, I'd be in the lowest circle of hell right now.
But then a flash of magenta catches my eyes, past the policeman. My heart leaps into my throat. Maggie. She jumps up on one of the thicker headstones and whips her shirt over her like a lasso. A lumpy policeman passes her, huffing, and his eyes grow as wide as saucer plates.
This is it. Plan