a half second that I’m going to cry, but this isn’t the time, so I blink hard and open my eyes wide and try to suck the tears back into my eyeballs before she notices. She keeps hugging me, and I focus on the ceiling, which is full of brilliant green glowing stars, because it’s easier than facing her.
I should feel relaxed, accepted, proud of myself for being vulnerable, excited that I didn’t scare her off. But I’m not. I’m antsy, freaked out, on edge, and the longer she doesn’t talk, the worse it gets. My brain spins out in a thousand directions, each one worse than the last.
She’s only being nice because she feels bad.
She wishes you would leave already.
She still hates you and can’t figure out how to say it.
“I should probably go,” I say, even though it kills me, even though I haven’t told her half the things I’d planned to.
She slips down beside me and tilts my face toward hers, brushing some hair off my forehead. “You could stay.”
Confusion etches lines across my forehead. “What?”
She takes a long, deep breath, watching me, appraising me, her eyes focused on mine. “I said you could stay. If you want.”
I smile before I catch myself, and then my stomach sinks. I know what this is; this is Gray and concrete goals all over again. This is pity. I shake my head. “I’m fine, Peak, really. You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Good, because I’m not,” she says, with just enough attitude that I sort of believe her.
“Why, then?”
She presses a kiss to my nose and pulls me closer. My heart is pounding, clawing at my skin to get to her. I wonder how she can stand it. “I like you, okay? That’s why.”
I bring my arm up around her, letting my fingers trail over her skin, trying to be cool, to be nonchalant, to act like my entire body isn’t on fire right now. “I like you too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jubilee
MY PHONE IS buzzing somewhere in the background, and I chase the sound back to consciousness with a little sigh. I roll over, half expecting Ridley to still be there, warm and drowsy, with his arms tucked behind his head, just the way I left him. But there are only cold sheets.
We talked all night; he told me about his family, his sister, and about growing up in the shadow of The Geekery. We talked about the fake reports and his sister’s reaction when he told her everything. We even talked a little about fate. He filled in all the blanks between Bats and Ridley, and somehow, around two a.m. or so, the two sides of him officially fused into one in my mind. And I really like it, maybe even more than like it, if I’m being honest.
There’s a small part of me, though, a quiet part, that still feels weird about how everything went down, but I shake it off and grab my phone, smiling when I see that it’s him telling me to
BATS: Wake up already!
ME: You left!
BATS: I didn’t want your moms to see me! Now get up.
ME: It’s 8:30. On a Saturday. The only people up now are like athletes or masochists.
BATS: And people who have to work.
ME: Of which we are none.
BATS: Also people who have dates.
ME: Oh my god. You are a massive dork.
BATS: Meet me at Malywick Park in an hour?
ME: An hour?!
BATS: Too soon?
ME: I’ll be there in 20.
BATS: Come on then, Peak. I’m already here.
ME:
I wiggle into some jeans, yank a sweatshirt over my head, pull my hair back into a ponytail, and toss my gloves onto my bed so I don’t forget them. It’s nearly April, but even springtime in New England isn’t so forgiving.
I am ready to go—teeth brushed, mascara applied, winter headband