grin widened.
“If that’s what you want to call it, then fuck yes.”
Chapter 12
After Finn helped me get dressed and retrieved his own discarded clothes from the floor, we went back to the dance studio to get my stuff before heading across campus toward the Wastelands.
We truly did try to study.
Some of the tips and tricks I’d found online for how to function with dyslexia were really helping Finn, and we spent about an hour going over a section of our American Literature textbook.
But I couldn’t drag my focus away from how close to me Finn was sitting, couldn’t stop sucking in breaths of his clean citrus scent. I knew his body in a way I hadn’t before, and that knowledge made it extremely hard to concentrate.
When we both reached to turn a page at the same time, our fingers tangled together, and twenty seconds after that, the textbook fell to the floor with a thud as our lips found each other again. Finn carried me to the bedroom, and our second time was slow and languid, unhurried and deep. I was a little bit sore, but not enough to stop pure pleasure from radiating through me when Finn pressed inside me again.
Afterward, we fell asleep with our naked bodies pressed together, and it was the best sleep I’d had in weeks.
I hadn’t planned on any of that when I’d snuck into the studio. I’d only gone to look at myself, to try to reconcile the person I’d been with the person I was now. But as it turned out, Finn finding me was the best thing that could’ve happened—it was exactly what I’d needed in that moment.
A reminder that my body might be damaged, but it was not useless.
Philip called on Monday morning to let me know that he’d set everything up with the physical therapist and to give me the address where I was supposed to meet the trainer. We’d be using a rehab facility in Roseland so we could utilize their equipment.
My grandpa had called or texted almost every day since I’d arrived back at school, wanting to know how things were going and check in on my healing progress. Jacqueline, by contrast, hadn’t contacted me once since I’d left their house.
I wondered fleetingly if she was so standoffish because at some level, just like Mason, she blamed herself for my accident. Did she ever wonder whether if she hadn’t taken away my old car, if she hadn’t sent me back to Sand Valley, none of this would’ve happened?
Honestly, I doubted it.
She’d never even apologized for sending me away in the first place, and had stoically defended her actions toward both me and my mom. Assuming she felt guilty because I’d almost died was probably just wishful thinking on my part.
I hobbled between classes all day Monday, using my crutches when I needed to, but I could hardly focus on any of the lectures. My mind had already jumped ahead to four p.m., excited for my first appointment with the therapist.
The Princes all offered to drive me, and Mason’s face was so tense as he waited for my response that I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
Finn had seemed different, more relaxed—though no less angry and wary around Adena—since our encounter over the weekend, but Mason had been growing steadily more tense and irritable since I’d punched the blonde queen bitch in the face. She’d had a black eye the next day that not even her expensive cover-up could conceal, and watching the bruise slowly fade over several more days had given me a feeling of satisfaction I wasn’t exactly proud of.
I wasn’t sure what had gotten under Mason’s skin, but something was clearly bothering him. The few times I’d tentatively brought it up though, he’d shut me down quickly, and I hadn’t pushed beyond that for an answer yet.
The same simmering, barely repressed anger seemed to churn under his skin as we all piled into his convertible to head into Roseland. I had a gym bag stashed in the trunk, and none of us had changed out of our uniforms yet. The facility was on the far side of town, and Mason had insisted we leave right after class to make sure we weren’t late.
Finn sat behind me, and when he reached around the seat like he always did to massage the back of my neck, I leaned into his touch instead of squirming away from it like I’d done in the past.
It still made butterflies explode