Six months ago, Julia's life was perfect. Then her dad died. Now she lives with her grieving mother and sick grandmother in a puny apartment above their bookstore. After a dark bout of depression, Julia is fragile, and mourns both her father and her old life. But she has one thing to be happy about: Jeremy, the most popular boy at school, has chosen her. Jeremy's love for Julia is passionate, even obsessive. As she grows closer to Jeremy, Julia pushes her disapproving friends and family away. But Jeremy only becomes more controlling and Julia has to decide what lines cannot be crossed.
Excerpt
From Chapter 19
“Julia,” he says. His knuckles
whiten as he grips the steering wheel. He stares out the front windshield. “You
know I love you, right?”
“Yes and I love you.”
“Which means you’re mine,” he says.
“Uhm, That’s sort of archaic,
Jeremy. You sound like a Neanderthal.”
He releases his seat belt and leans
across the car. “I want- ed to do this all night.” He caresses my face, his
fingers feather light as they trace my cheekbone down to my lower lip. Chills
spread out from the invisible tracks his fingers made, down my neck. “So
beautiful,” he murmurs.
Then he kisses me.
Those chills change to heat waves
that engulf me entirely. His hand moves to my belly and under my shirt,
caressing me as it rises to my chest. I gasp. But I don’t make him stop.
He pulls away and helps me out of
my buckle.
“Come,” he says, and climbs into
the back seat. My heart is beating wildly. I follow.
“Lay back,” he instructs.
I look up at him, as he shrugs off
his jacket. His grey-blue eyes are almost black, full of desire, his face
flushed.
“Oh my God,” I say, unable to stop
my words, “You are so hot.”
“And you are too sexy,” he
whispers, kissing along my jaw- line. He slips his hand under my shirt and
kisses me again. He groans. I melt into him and a moan escapes. He moves his
hand to my waist, unbuttoning my jeans. He works the zipper down, sliding his hand
into my panties.
My eyes flash open. My vision
resumes spinning. I thrust myself up and bash my forehead into his chin.
“Crap!” he shouts, holding his
face.
“I’m going to be sick!”
“What?” Jeremy backs away like I’ve
got rabies. “Not in my mom’s car!”
I cup my hand over my mouth and
struggle with the door handle. Jeremy reaches over me, releases the lock, and
pushes the door open wide.
I tumble out and land hard on the
road. My hands scrape on the icy pavement. Crawling on my hands and knees I
make it to the back of the car before I vomit. Over and over. My throat burns.
It feels like I am spewing up chards of glass.
Jeremy lays his hand on my back and
I jump, retching. Finally, it stops and I lean back against the car’s tire. My
head is clear. Jeremy’s face is distorted, his desire gone. I yank up my pants
zipper.
“I’m sorry, Jeremy,” I say, trying
not to cry. My stomach cramps. Oh, God,
no more. I clench my teeth, willing myself not to throw up.
What
is wrong with me? Maybe I do have sex issues. He has every right to be
angry. I am a sex loser.
“Let’s go,” he says, pulling me up
under my arms. He leads me around the front of the car and buckles me in. The
clock on the dash reads 11:50. He passes me his tin of mints, but doesn’t say a
word. I pop in three. I am too numb to speak.
As we drive home the silence
builds, forming a wall between us. In moments we’re in my parking lot.
“I’m so sorry, Jeremy.” He doesn’t
respond. “Jeremy—”
“I’m not going to wait forever
Julia,” he says.
“But, Jeremy, I just drank too
much. I—”
“You better go in,” he cuts me off.
“Okay,” I say, waiting for a kiss
goodnight. He doesn’t make a move. And why would he want to kiss me? “I’ll see
you tomorrow.”
Still no response. I open the door
and climb out.
“I love you,” I say, as a light
flashes on behind me. The back door swings open as Jeremy speeds down the back
lane.
“His Royal Nibs couldn’t walk you
to the door?” Grandma’s voice rings out across the dark cold night.
“He had to get home too,” I lie as
I brush by her, stomping inside.
Grandma grabs my arm, forcing me to
face her. My head spins. I concentrate hard on staying upright. It would
totally blow my cover if I fell in a heap at her feet.
She stares hard at me, her grandma
senses must be tingling.
“What?” I ask. I can’t bear her
scrutiny.
“Just looking,” she replies,
smoothing her pale green toque. Since she cut her hair, she loses all her heat
through her head and she gets too chilly at night to sleep.
“For what?” I’m careful to speak
clearly.
“I’ll know when I see it.”
“O-kay.”
“There is something,” she says,
taking a step back and running her gaze over me from head to toe. Her eyes
narrow, her brows don’t flinch. “I’ll be watching you, my dear. Closely.”
I squeeze by her in the narrow hallway.
“I’m really tired.” She follows me
as I carefully walk a straight line down the hall. I don’t feel nearly as
wobbly as I did at the party, but I can’t mess up.
“Nice jacket,” Grandma says.
“Thanks. Jeremy gave it to me.”
“Looks expensive.” She doesn’t
sound impressed. “Better soak those pants. Vomit stains.”
Crap.
Busted.
JODI CARMICHAEL lives in Winnipeg where she can often be found dancing in the living room with her two wildly imaginative daughters, her patient and supportive husband, and a scruffy Border Terrier named Zoe. Jodi’s previous book for young readers, Spaghetti Is NOT A Finger Food, won numerous awards and has been a multi-week Bestseller.
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