FenceStriking Distance - Sarah Rees Brennan Page 0,68
on Aiden, while gentle, was firm. Aiden didn’t want to get away, and never had. Moonlight made the contrast between Harvard’s skin and the sheets deeper, and caught at the gleam of white teeth as he spoke.
“’S all right,” Harvard murmured.
His mouth barely moved as he said the words, shaped for gentleness, for soothing and sweet long kisses that made the world seem different. Not like Aiden’s own mouth, made for curling and cruelty, for wicked kisses and worse lies.
“It’s not all right,” Aiden told him, his voice clear as a confession in the dark. “I’m not all right.”
He had to stop this. And, he vowed, he would. He would give himself just one more day. Just one more day, to live on for the rest of Aiden’s life. Then he’d tell Harvard they should stop.
23: NICHOLAS
That morning Nicholas woke up to an undeniably startling sight. Seiji’s face was hovering over him, pale and intent, like a vampire who came in the too-early morning rather than the night and made you do fencing drills rather than drink your blood. Nicholas flailed and made an incoherent sound of protest at the fencing vampire.
“Wake up, Nicholas,” said Seiji, poking him.
“It’s not even dawn!” Nicholas objected.
“It is ten minutes before the time you usually rise,” Seiji corrected. “And you could use those ten minutes to present a more appropriate and put-together appearance to the world.”
“’S inhumane,” Nicholas told him, hiding under his blanket.
Seiji stripped it efficiently off him. “Come now, Nicholas, I require your presence. I will be waiting on the other side of the curtain.”
Curiosity killed the cat, and it even got Nicholas Cox out of bed early in the morning. Nicholas climbed out from under the covers and into his clothes, though since Seiji had made a crack about his appearance, Nicholas made sure his tie was even more haphazard than usual.
When he stepped out from behind the curtain, Seiji’s face went dark with surprised disapproval. It was possible that Nicholas literally throwing his tie over his shoulder had been a step too far.
“I was thinking,” Nicholas offered. “Now that we’re friends, maybe we don’t need the curtain at all? I could take it down.”
Seiji clung to the curtain as if it was a security blanket and he was a big baby. “I need the curtain.”
“You need me,” said Nicholas.
Seiji blinked. “What?”
“You require my presence?” Nicholas reminded him. “You said so five minutes ago, on the other side of the curtain. What do you require my presence for? Is this about fencing?”
“Oddly,” said Seiji, “no. I want you to come sit at breakfast with me.”
“But we eat breakfast together every day?” Nicholas pointed out.
“It’s very strange you characterize something that only started last week as a regular appointment,” Seiji said. “In any case, I wish for you to accompany me to Eugene’s weight-lifting acquaintances table.”
Nicholas raised both eyebrows. He would’ve liked to raise just one eyebrow, to be cool and sardonic, but whenever he tried, he just ended up raising both. “I’d characterize them as his weight-lifting bros. Why do you want me to do that?”
Seiji gave him a measuring look. The curtain fluttered in the breeze from the window that Seiji insisted on opening every day, for fresh air. Yellow ducks rippled on the blue surface, as though they were escaping downriver.
“I wish to speak with Eugene on an urgent matter, but I don’t find the weight-lifting bros to be congenial company. You must not let any of them fist-bump me,” said Seiji. “Warn me if they make any sudden movements. Chad hits me on the back.”
“Slaps you on the back?” Nicholas asked. “So do you mean, like, he likes you?”
“I don’t like it!” Seiji exclaimed. “Will you come or not?”
Nicholas didn’t understand why Seiji was resisting popularity. Nicholas thought it would be awesome to have lots of people admire you, but apparently it stressed out Seiji.
“I will come with you and protect you from the bros’ friendship,” Nicholas promised. “I will be your social bodyguard.”
Social secretaries organized people’s social appointments, and Nicholas figured social bodyguards prevented people from having them.
After a moment’s consideration of this proposition, Seiji nodded. As they walked together down the halls and the back staircase, Nicholas studied the ceiling, which was all white with twirly bits like a wedding cake. He had a troubling thought.
“You hate fist bumps?” he asked. “But you’ve fist-bumped me and Eugene.”
“I don’t mind if it’s you,” said Seiji. “And I don’t mind much if it’s Eugene. But not Chad!”