GROW UP GINGER

A story about leaving and being followed.

Written by Juliana Resende

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No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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CHAPTER TEN — The Park on the Hill

His car was nicer than I’d expected. Of course it was.

He pulled out of the underground parking and merged onto the road and asked, easily: “Where are we going?”

I gave him directions toward my aunt’s house. He nodded. Followed them. And then, three blocks away, I felt something cold flicker through me — the specific feeling of not wanting him to know exactly where I lived.

“Actually,” I said. “Make a little detour. Turn right here.”

“That’s not the way to your aunt’s.”

“I know. There’s a place I want to show you.”

He raised an eyebrow but turned. I directed him up the hill, past the old church, to a small park at the top where the road dead-ends and you can see the whole town below.

He parked. We got out. We walked to a bench under an oak tree. The town glittered below us like something I’d already left.

“It’s so peaceful here,” I said. “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid.”

“It’s a good place for that.”

He took my hand. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I texted Megan back, then told him I’d walk the rest of the way. Just around the corner.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I can drop you off.”

“No need.”

“Hey, before you go — can I get your number? I’d love to see you again.”

“Hum. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m pretty swamped with things right now.”

His face changed — just briefly. The smile stayed, but something underneath shifted. Disappointment, but also something else. Calculation.

“Oh. Okay. I understand. But Anna — I was really hoping we could spend some time together. Maybe just a little while.”

“Maybe another time.”

He smiled. Then, before I could move, he grabbed me — gently, firmly — and kissed me with a sudden, possessive intensity that left me slightly off-balance.

“Wow. Okay. Ciao.”

I walked away. Past the bench, down the hill, my heart beating in a way I couldn’t fully name.

I didn’t see him pick up his phone.

I didn’t see him scroll through his messages.

I didn’t see him open Igram and start to type.

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