Read Online Stay With Me by Alison Gaylin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alison Gaylin
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text: Come on pleaseeeeeee? No parents! Just us girls!
Whoa. Maya thought of Lindsay, typing in all those Es. And just us girls? Why didn’t she have a date with Miles? Maya almost texted her that question, but she quickly thought better of it. Lindsay seemed like the jealous type—not that she would ever think to be jealous of someone like Maya.
Maya’s computer beeped. She glanced at it, to see a private message from NYCJulie: Don ’t listen to Matt. You’re young. You deserve to have fun. Spend time with your friends while you still have them . Maya smiled. She liked NYCJulie so much.
She wrote her back: Lindsay wants me to stay over tonight.
The popular girl? Awesome! And don’t worry. We’ll still be here when you get back.
Maya thought for a few moments, then texted Zoe: I can’t come tonite. Dad making me go to family thing. :(
Zoe replied right away: Srsly?
Yep.
No answer.
For good measure, Maya sent another sad face.
Still no answer.
Maya got a third text from Lindsay: Three question marks.
She typed: I’ll be there.
Yay! Get over here nowwwww
Maya’s heart pounded. She had a bag all packed for Zoe’s, but she emptied it out, going over each item of clothing individually—the boring pajamas, the boring jeans . . . Maya grabbed the pink sweater she’d bought at Forever 21—the one Nikki had said looked cute on her—and changed into it, along with her tightest pair of skinny jeans. Then she started going through everything else in her closet, looking for something, anything that was remotely Lindsay-worthy.
Nothing. But she did have some clothes that at least weren’t embarrassing. As she searched for them and threw them in the bag, Maya forgot about everything else in the room, in her life. She didn’t notice the computer beeping, her chat room friends asking where the hell she’d gone off to, NYCJulie explaining, LIMatt61 more irritated than ever, but ClaudetteBrooklyn20 defending her: Give her a break, Matt. She’s only a kid .
And, once she was fully packed and she’d logged out of the chat room, once she’d shoved the phone in her pocket and grabbed her bag and her favorite blue coat with the brass buttons that her mom had bought her at Urban Outfitters three weeks ago after so much begging, once she’d gone through the obligatory exchange of hugs and explanations and phone number with Dad (who really didn’t seem to care who Lindsay Segal was, deep as he was into some newspaper story he was writing), once she’d rushed out of the apartment, down the elevator, through the lobby, and up Seventh Avenue toward Lindsay’s apartment, the sun already starting to set . . . Once Maya had done all of that, only then did she stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take a few moments to think about what was going on in her suddenly, weirdly, out-of-the-blue exciting life.
“Amazing,” she whispered.
But Maya didn’t let herself think for too long. After all, she had a sleepover to get to.
Just us girls.
She took off fast toward Lindsay’s, determined not to be late. So determined, in fact, that she didn’t notice the blue car tailing her up Seventh Avenue and then left at Twenty-sixth, the cold wind blowing in her face as she wove around slow walkers, her breath quickening, her face easing into a smile. She didn’t notice the driver, watching. Watching it all.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Faith said. She heard Nicolai let out an exasperated sigh and somehow managed to restrain herself from getting up, walking over to the camera, and slapping him across the face. If he was ever going to form a relationship with something that didn’t have a lens cap, this child needed to work on his empathy skills. Big-time.
Ashley Stanley trailed a hand across her eyes. A tear trickled down her scarred cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said. So strange. Ashley was a grown woman, but she still had the high, frail voice of a little girl—as though the Lemaires had trapped her
Whoa. Maya thought of Lindsay, typing in all those Es. And just us girls? Why didn’t she have a date with Miles? Maya almost texted her that question, but she quickly thought better of it. Lindsay seemed like the jealous type—not that she would ever think to be jealous of someone like Maya.
Maya’s computer beeped. She glanced at it, to see a private message from NYCJulie: Don ’t listen to Matt. You’re young. You deserve to have fun. Spend time with your friends while you still have them . Maya smiled. She liked NYCJulie so much.
She wrote her back: Lindsay wants me to stay over tonight.
The popular girl? Awesome! And don’t worry. We’ll still be here when you get back.
Maya thought for a few moments, then texted Zoe: I can’t come tonite. Dad making me go to family thing. :(
Zoe replied right away: Srsly?
Yep.
No answer.
For good measure, Maya sent another sad face.
Still no answer.
Maya got a third text from Lindsay: Three question marks.
She typed: I’ll be there.
Yay! Get over here nowwwww
Maya’s heart pounded. She had a bag all packed for Zoe’s, but she emptied it out, going over each item of clothing individually—the boring pajamas, the boring jeans . . . Maya grabbed the pink sweater she’d bought at Forever 21—the one Nikki had said looked cute on her—and changed into it, along with her tightest pair of skinny jeans. Then she started going through everything else in her closet, looking for something, anything that was remotely Lindsay-worthy.
Nothing. But she did have some clothes that at least weren’t embarrassing. As she searched for them and threw them in the bag, Maya forgot about everything else in the room, in her life. She didn’t notice the computer beeping, her chat room friends asking where the hell she’d gone off to, NYCJulie explaining, LIMatt61 more irritated than ever, but ClaudetteBrooklyn20 defending her: Give her a break, Matt. She’s only a kid .
And, once she was fully packed and she’d logged out of the chat room, once she’d shoved the phone in her pocket and grabbed her bag and her favorite blue coat with the brass buttons that her mom had bought her at Urban Outfitters three weeks ago after so much begging, once she’d gone through the obligatory exchange of hugs and explanations and phone number with Dad (who really didn’t seem to care who Lindsay Segal was, deep as he was into some newspaper story he was writing), once she’d rushed out of the apartment, down the elevator, through the lobby, and up Seventh Avenue toward Lindsay’s apartment, the sun already starting to set . . . Once Maya had done all of that, only then did she stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take a few moments to think about what was going on in her suddenly, weirdly, out-of-the-blue exciting life.
“Amazing,” she whispered.
But Maya didn’t let herself think for too long. After all, she had a sleepover to get to.
Just us girls.
She took off fast toward Lindsay’s, determined not to be late. So determined, in fact, that she didn’t notice the blue car tailing her up Seventh Avenue and then left at Twenty-sixth, the cold wind blowing in her face as she wove around slow walkers, her breath quickening, her face easing into a smile. She didn’t notice the driver, watching. Watching it all.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Faith said. She heard Nicolai let out an exasperated sigh and somehow managed to restrain herself from getting up, walking over to the camera, and slapping him across the face. If he was ever going to form a relationship with something that didn’t have a lens cap, this child needed to work on his empathy skills. Big-time.
Ashley Stanley trailed a hand across her eyes. A tear trickled down her scarred cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said. So strange. Ashley was a grown woman, but she still had the high, frail voice of a little girl—as though the Lemaires had trapped her
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