think about real life for now. I just want to get lost in this girl, in this moment, and forget everything else.
I pull her closer, resting my forehead against her chest and running my arms up and down her sides. She laces her fingers through my hair, humming a song I don’t know, and for a second, I let myself believe it’s enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
RIDLEY: I’m fucking everything up.
GRAYSON: It sounds like you’re doing the best you can with everything going on.
RIDLEY: I still think we should tell Vera.
GRAYSON: Is it just that you feel bad, or?
RIDLEY: I feel bad all the time, Gray, so no. It’s that it feels WRONG.
GRAYSON: I hate when you say shit like that. It makes me want to like wrap you up in bubble wrap and feed you soup.
RIDLEY: Wtf?
GRAYSON: I don’t know, it just does. But yeah, there’s no good answer here.
RIDLEY: But is there a right one?
GRAYSON: I just want you to be happy.
RIDLEY: Yeah about that . . .
GRAYSON: Okay, aside from all the drama with Dad and Verona, how are things with you and Peak?
RIDLEY: All her friends hate me, and her parents think I’m someone else. So good, I guess?
GRAYSON: Oh my god, Ridley.Why can’t your life be easy?
RIDLEY: . . . right?
GRAYSON: Well, winning over her friends should be easy enough. Just go be your charming self.
RIDLEY: So funny.
GRAYSON: I’m being serious. Go hang out with them. Show them you’re worth the trouble.
RIDLEY: I’m not though.
GRAYSON: Ridley, don’t make me come over there.
RIDLEY: That threat works better when we’re on the same side of the country.
GRAYSON: I can be wheels up in an hour. Do not test me.
RIDLEY: Fine, fine, I’ll hang out with them. If only to spare some poor flight attendant from having to deal with you.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jubilee
I’M SITTING ON the bleachers, watching Jayla and Nikki wrap up soccer practice. They were running drills, but now they’re scrimmaging and somehow they ended up on opposite teams, which means I don’t even know who to cheer for. Yay, sports! It’s their first outdoor practice, and it’s unusually warm for April. The sunshine feels nice, relaxing even—or it would be if I wasn’t sharing a bleacher with electricity personified.
Ridley sits beside me stiffly, the opposite of relaxed. He’s chewing on his lip and bouncing his knee, which he’s taken to doing whenever we leave the safety of our rooms or the store. I was shocked when he agreed to join me cheering on the girls today.
I slide our fingers together, wishing I could send him some serenity by osmosis or whatever, and he lets out a shaky breath. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?”
“Definitely,” I say, and hope it’s reassuring. I’m positive it’s okay; they basically insisted on it. Even Nikki said it was time to break out of the relationship bubble, and she’s all about romance. Not that this is romance lately—it’s more like he’s falling apart, and I’m putting him back together, and in between we kiss and I do homework. It’s a lot . . . but I don’t mind. And it’s partially my fault for insisting he keep up the charade.
The scrimmage finally ends, 6–4 Jayla’s team, and I head down to the edge of the field with Ridley. Jayla is leading a meeting, bringing the whole team back together and fulfilling her co-captain duties. Ridley shifts nervously beside me; we’re supposed to be hanging out with everybody after this.
“Should we just go home?” I ask him.
“No,” he says, a little too quick, and then squeezes my hand.
Nikki and Jayla grab their gear and jog over to us. Jayla’s rubbing her side where she took an elbow at the end of the last half, but she’s still smiling. “What’s up, Batboy?”