He starts to get back out of the car. “My bad, Harley. We can call a cab.”
“No,” I say, desperate not to screw up my first night out with the troupe. “I don’t mind waiting for a taxi.”
Jin’s waving his hand furiously, his feet clumsily hitting the sidewalk. “There’s no way I’m letting you wait here all alone. Me and Charley will be right behind you.” Charley smiles behind him, unable to get out of the car because Jin is still blocking the way.
“That’s not necessary,” Vas’s voice sounds from behind me. When I turn around, I see he’s thrown his black leather jacket over his dress shirt. There’s a helmet under his arm, and another smaller one held out toward me.
My stomach flutters.
He’s offering me a ride. On the back of his bike.
My brain is malfunctioning, like someone on Mario Kart has set off too many green shells and banana peels and I’m struggling to make sense of what’s happening.
I glance at the car and see Vivien practically beaming from the driver’s seat. “Jin, get back in the car,” she orders.
“But I really don’t mind—” Jin slurs.
“Now,” Vivien barks, and I see Dexi reach across Charley’s lap and yank Jin backward until he topples onto them both. “See you back at the trailer,” Vivien sings, and the car peels away in the direction Sasha and the others already left in.
I turn back to Vas, the helmet still in his outstretched hand.
“Is it safe?” I ask.
His frown deepens. “I wouldn’t offer you a ride home if I wasn’t absolutely positive I could get you there safely.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I really don’t mind taking a taxi.”
“Would you prefer a taxi?”
“No, I just don’t want to bother you.”
“The only thing that’s bothering me is that my arm is getting tired.”
My face flushes.
He hesitates. “That was… supposed to be a joke.”
I laugh, like I’m not sure that was the joke. “Sorry, I couldn’t tell. Most people smile when they’re joking.”
“I—I know. I forget to do that sometimes.”
I raise a brow. “You forget to smile?”
Vas shrugs, letting his arm drop to his side. “I get nervous. You didn’t smile, so I didn’t smile.”
“Nervous,” I repeat in disbelief.
He nods. “I don’t always know what the right thing to say is. I find socializing with strangers difficult sometimes, that’s all.”
“We’re not exactly strangers,” I point out quietly.
His green eyes soften, and this time I do wonder what it means.
I don’t know if it’s the aftershocks of hearing him sing, or the buzz of fresh air after being in a dark room for hours, but something makes me less afraid to speak my mind.
Or at least, less afraid to face the consequences of what I’m about to say.
“Vivien told me what you did for me.” I ball my fists together and try not to lose my nerve. “Thank you. I know what your music means to you, because I think it’s what being an aerialist means to me. But I want you to know I never meant to hurt you, or get in the way of your dreams. I know it seems like I don’t care about anything but getting what I want, but it’s not true. I wouldn’t have made a deal with Simon if I knew it would hurt you.”
Vas taps his thumb against the helmet. I think maybe he doesn’t believe me.
Maybe because it’s a very blurry truth, with too much gray area and uncertainty.
Because hurting someone you don’t know—someone without a face or a name or a history—is different from hurting someone you’ve spent hours with, listening to the cry of their violin and the way their breath catches at the end of a song.
If I could go back in time, I want to believe I’d do things differently. That I wouldn’t hurt Vas, or Tatya, or my parents. That I’d find another way.
But then I wouldn’t be here.
So how honest am I really being with myself by apologizing in hindsight for a reality I’m probably grateful for?
“I’m sorry,” I say, and that part is honest.
Vas’s expression remains unchanged as he fiddles with the helmet strap. Finally, he holds it out again. “Can I take you somewhere? It’s not far.”
Even though there’re a million more words I should probably say, I take the helmet because sometimes words just get in the way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
My arms are wrapped around Vas’s chest as he rides along the road, away from the city, the chill of the wind blowing against us. At