the pull that threatened to overtake me on a daily basis. I knew where she lived. I knew where she laid her head every night. But above all of that . . . I knew where I belonged.
With Eliza.
Five years earlier . . .
WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN YEARS old, I met Till Page in a condemned apartment one building over from my own. I immediately recognized him from school. It had been hard not to—he’d been gorgeous even as a boy. It was long before he found the gym or his tattered clothing came back in style. Back then, he was just a scrawny kid with shaggy hair and a wicked grin.
I didn’t know what kind of life Till had, but I knew it was probably better than my own. My parents were decent people; they just didn’t have time for me. Or, probably more accurately, any desire to make time for me. I was always a burden on them. Most nights, I hid away in my room, listening to them fight over money—or their lack thereof. I loved sneaking away to that run-down apartment. It was my own private fortress of solitude—until Till showed up one afternoon.
He scared me to death when he came crawling in that window. His eyes were red and his cheeks were notably stained with tears.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, dusting off his already filthy pants.
I jumped to my feet, spilling my sketchpad and the few colored pencils I had managed to smuggle out of art class all over the peeling linoleum floor.
“Crap!” I yelled, rushing to pick them up. When I finished collecting my prize possessions, I glanced up to find him drying his eyes on the backs of his sleeves.
“You tell anyone I was crying and I’ll tell everyone you tried to kiss me.”
“I didn’t try to kiss you!” I shouted, appalled at the very idea—and maybe a little interested too.
“Then keep quiet or the whole school will think you did.”
My mouth must have gaped open at his attempted blackmail because he quickly finished with, “You might want to close your mouth before that spider on your shoulder takes it as an invitation.”
At the mere mention of a spider, I began screaming and flailing around the dingy room. I tore my shirt over my head, only vaguely aware that his roar of laughter had been silenced.
“Uh . . .” he stuttered when I finally stilled.
It didn’t take but a second for me to realize that I was standing in my bra.
“Oh, God!” I squeaked as I turned away, covering my chest with my arms.
“Here.” He tossed my shirt, which hit me in the back and sent me into another fit of spider hysteria all over again.
“The spider could still be on there!” I screamed at the wall.
“Or it could be in your hair.”
It was then that I decided to give up on covering my barely-there breasts and started ruffling my hair, shaking free any possible unwelcome insect.
He howled with laughter.
“Stop laughing!” I hissed.
He once again picked my shirt up, but this time, he thoroughly inspected it before tossing it back at me. “Spider-free. Till Page guaranteed.”
I gave him a side eye but finally replied, “Thanks,” as I pulled it back over my head, wishing I could set it on fire instead.
“No problem. At least, now if you decide to run your mouth, I won’t have to lie when I tell the whole school you flashed me your bra.”
“You wouldn’t.” I shot him an evil glare that made him smile.
“Try me,” he said with a staggering confidence I’d never seen in a boy my age. Not that I had any plans of telling anyone anyway, but with one look, he solidified that even further.
“Whatever.” I walked back to my small, makeshift storage cabinet and began emptying the contents.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously while I stacked all of my old sketchbooks and barely there stumps of leftover pencils.
“I’m taking my stuff so you don’t steal it.”
“I won’t steal your crap. I’m not a thief,” he responded, and there was something in his voice that made me feel guilty for having suggested otherwise.
“Right. Well. I’m not chancing it. I didn’t know anyone else came here.” I looked around the room for something to carry the little pile I had accumulated, but as I turned, everything went rolling to the floor. “Ugh,” I groaned, immediately diving after them.
“You don’t have to take your stuff. I won’t mess with it.” He squatted down and