Fighting for Rain - BB Easton Page 0,36

the floor and turns to face me, his features serious in the silvery glow from the skylights. Then, suddenly, he grabs my biceps and whisper-shouts, “BEAR DONE GOT ME, AGNES! GIT MY GUN!”

I burst out laughing, doubling over and clamping my hands over my mouth as I try not to be so damn loud. Of course, that only makes it worse. “Too soon!” I hiccup, waving one hand in surrender. “Too soon!”

“Sorry!” Carter has the best belly laugh. It’s so boyish and sweet, like his face, betraying his manly, six-foot-three-inch packaging.

“For real though”—he claps a hand over my shoulder—“that was fucking badass back there. Thank you.”

My laughter dies down. “Don’t thank me yet. I could have made it worse, for all I know.”

Carter slowly shakes his head from side to side. His hooded eyes have a hard time keeping up. “Unh-uh. You make everything better, Rainbow Brite.”

“Pssh. You’re drunk.”

“I got somethin’ for you today.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’d you go anyway? You never told me.”

“Every few days, Q has me take everybody’s phones and shit out to my parents’ car to charge ’em.”

“I thought your car was busted.”

“It is. Dented all to hell, right in the middle of the pileup, but it’s got gas, and the engine still starts up, so …” Carter reaches into the pocket of his basketball shorts and pulls out a shiny black device. “I charged your phone.”

“Oh my God.” I gasp and reach for it, turning it over in my hands like some kind of artifact from a past civilization. “Where did you find this?”

“It was in your backpack the night I found it.”

My mood sours at the mention of that night, but Carter quickly changes the subject. “Check it out!” He taps his finger on the glass, lighting it up. The wallpaper used to be a picture of us, but after he left, I couldn’t stand looking at him anymore, so I changed it back to the default screen. Now, it’s just stupid blue digital swirls. “Your service even got turned back on.”

I stare at the phone in my hand, racking my brain for the name of somebody I could call, but … everyone I might want to talk to either left town before April 23 or …

The screen goes black.

“Hey … you okay?” Carter gives my shoulder a little squeeze.

I nod, staring at the blank screen, but it’s a lie, and Carter knows it.

So, I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t have anybody to call.”

“What are you, forty? You don’t use a phone for calling people, silly.”

Carter snatches the phone out of my hand, and I watch his face light up blue as he tap, tap, taps on the screen. Seconds later, the soft strumming of a ukulele drifts over the croaking of the fountain frogs as Tyler Joseph sings about a house made of gold.

“You’re supposed to use it to listen to your favorite band. Duh.”

I smile politely at his proud, illuminated face beaming in triumph. Carter is trying so hard to cheer me up. Now’s probably not the time to tell him that Twenty One Pilots was never my favorite band.

It was his.

“Thanks, Carter.” I take the phone from him and set it on the fountain next to me, letting it play. “That was really sweet.”

He nods, and his smile slowly fades. The two of us look around as we listen to the music. He nudges a loose tile back into place with his sneaker. I pick at my hoodie sleeves. He shifts a few inches closer to me. I hold my breath until I can feel my heartbeat in my neck.

“Your hair is shorter.” Carter’s voice rumbles in my ear as he reaches up and slides two fingers down the front strands of my black hack job.

I flinch and pull back slightly, tucking that side behind my ear. “Yep. And yours is longer.”

“Car Radio” begins to play, the electronic beat mimicking my erratic pulse as Tyler raps about being unable to distract himself from his dark thoughts.

Maybe Twenty One Pilots is my favorite band after all.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Carter whispers, crowding my space.

I can smell the tequila on his warm breath, and the inside of my hoodie suddenly feels like a sauna.

“I thought about you every single day, Rainbow,” he slurs, leaning down to press his forehead to the side of mine. “Every single second.”

I place my hand on the fountain ledge beside me to help support his weight.

“I wanted to come home to see you so bad, but