Pitched by Ella Goode

Chapter Eight

Georgia

My heart racesas my mystery man pulls into a parking lot and finally answers his phone. I’m not sure if it’s in fear or a thrill of excitement. I think it’s the thrill. He’s only trying to take me home, not do something terrible to me. At least I hope that’s what’s happening here.

I stare at him, thinking he’s really hot. Which is the last thing that should be on my mind. He’s a jerk, and Grams told me the hot ones typically are. And yet I jumped in the car with one. Well, technically I didn’t jump in. Colt put me in and shut the door.

“I’m taking her home. You never should have brought her there,” he says into the phone, sounding super pissed off at whoever is on the other end. I drop my gaze to my lap as his words cut deep. Is it that obvious that I don’t belong? I just want to be normal like everyone else. To be able to have the freedom to dance and laugh. Is that too much to ask?

“She wants to talk to you.” He doesn't hand me the phone. Instead he puts it on speaker.

“GG, you okay?” Tricia's voice comes through. I nod my head but quickly realize she can’t see me.

“I’m fine. I think he’s taking me home.” I look to him for confirmation, but he doesn’t give it to me. This guy is really wound tight. I wonder what his story is. And why the hell is he so angry?

“Jeez. I don’t know what got into Colt. He’s a good guy, so we’re all a little taken aback.” That makes two of us. As the rest of what she said sinks in, I start to relax, but I connect more of the dots.

“As in your Colt?” Oh crap. This isn’t good. I was just thinking how hot he is.

“I’m not hers,” Colt says before Tricia can respond to my question. His eyes never leave me. He’s watching my every breath.

“When did you turn into such a dick, Colt?” Tricia snaps back at him.

“They were all staring at her. They were about to eat her alive.”

“Colt, I know you’re not a ladies’ man, but I think I need to inform you most girls enjoy being eaten alive.”

H sucks in a deep breath. “Is there anything else you need?” he asks, ignoring her comment.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to bring my friend back so no.”

“Later,” he says the second Tricia answers him and ends the call. We sit there in silence for a long moment. “Let me see your phone.”

I search around trying to find it. It takes me a minute because he makes me nervous. Not in the scared kind of way but in the butterflies in my stomach way. I manage to find it, and I’m about to hand it over when I realize I don’t have to. Why the heck am I allowing this guy to tell me what to do? I’m not about that life anymore.

“No.” I pull it back. I showed him. “Are you always this bossy and mean?”

“No,” he responds, his hand still out, waiting for my phone. A stare-off ensues. I huff a breath and drop my phone into his hand. Only because I want to give it to him and not because he demanded it. I want to see why he needs it when he has his own. “Code.”

I ramble it off for him. I watch as he pulls up my texts and sends one. His phone beeps a second later. Then he goes to a page with a map on it clicking share location. It tells him where we are. He must be lost or something. When he’s done he finally hands me back my phone.

He puts his car into drive and pulls out of the parking lot. Neither one of us talk as the minutes tick by.

“You’re new. Where are you from?” he asks, breaking the silence. I swallow, not really wanting to answer. He already thinks I don’t belong here.

“A small town down south. You wouldn’t know it.” The silence grows yet again. I don’t recall it taking this long to get to the party when Tricia drove us there earlier.

“Why were you about to cry earlier?” he asks, his tone softening some.

“Where are we going?” I ask my own question this time.

“You never gave me your address. I’m just driving.”

“I’m on Madison and Vine,” I tell him.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Why would I? You’re a mean bully. I was starting to think they were fake ‘cause everyone has been so nice.” I fold my arms over my chest, annoyed at the weird attraction I have for him. Once again, my emotions start to overwhelm me. I try and push them down.

“Probably best if you think that about me,” he mutters.

I stare out the window, not daring to look his way. My nose starts to burn. Finally we pull onto my street.

“Here is fine,” I get out through my tight throat. He comes to a rolling stop. The sound of the locks disengaging is loud in the car.

“Stay away from the parties, GG,” he orders. I sniffle, grabbing the door to get out. “Wait. Shit. Are you crying?” He grabs my wrist, stopping me from getting out.

“Just leave me alone. I get it, okay?”

“GG, I—”

“Let her arm go, boy.” I realize Grandpa is standing right next to the car.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t care what you meant.” Grandpa cuts him off again. I’ve never seen him look so threatening before.

“Sorry.” He lets go of my wrist. I’m out of the car a second later. I bolt toward the house, going straight to my bedroom. I close and lock the door behind me. It's the first time I’ve ever actually used the lock Grandpa put on the door for me.

A few moments later, a knock sounds at the door. “Georgia. Are you okay, sweetie?” Grams says through the door, not even trying to come in. I push myself off the bed, pulling the door open to talk to her. She somehow always makes me feel better.

“Why can’t I be like everyone else?” I ask her.

“Oh honey.” She wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight. It only makes me cry harder. “You’re different, sweetheart. One day you’ll realize that’s a good thing.”

I want to believe her, but all I know is today.