Nine Years Ago
“They have mac and cheese, burgers, turkey tetrazzini,” Erika Fane told some girl ahead of me in line, “and chicken pot pie today, but I’d recommend the chicken sandwiches. They’re good and spicy.”
No. They aren’t. The freshmen were the only ones who still hadn’t realized where those cramps in the middle of fifth period were coming from.
The other blonde who looked like she could be her sister—except Erika Fane didn’t have a sister—just stood there, not looking over the selections that Fane listed off.
“It all sounds fine,” she replied. “Whatever you recommend.”
Fane grabbed the chicken sandwich wrapped in foil and brought it to her. The other girl held out both hands, feeling for the item.
I narrowed my eyes, watching her. Slowly, and keeping her eyes focused ahead, she took the item and set it on her tray herself, albeit a little clumsy.
Like she couldn’t see.
Realization dawned. This was Winter Ashby. Bitchy Arion Ashby’s kid sister.
She was blind, I’d heard.
Well, hopefully, she was nicer than her sister. When did she start here? I rarely ate lunch and we weren’t in the same classes, so I hadn’t seen her before.
They moved down the line, but not before an attack of conscience hit me and I plucked the chicken sandwich off her tray, quietly replacing it with a burger without her or Fane noticing. She wouldn’t know who to thank, but that was okay.
I grabbed a burger and a banana before reaching over and taking a bottle of water, adding it to my tray.
An arm came around me and took my necktie, threading it through long, beautiful fingers, veins bulging through the back of his hand.
“Nice tie,” he whispered close to my ear.
My heart leapt, and I stopped breathing for a moment.
His breath tickled my hair. “Thank you for wearing it.”
I couldn’t turn around and look at him because I was sure my face was ten shades of red. He’d put his tie on me after the movies when he’d dropped me at home, and I wasn’t going to wear it, but…
He’d taken another bad day and made it good. I liked wearing something that reminded me of it.
He dipped down, slipping his hand around my waist and breathing into my neck.
“Emmy…”
Heat covered my body, hearing him say it just like he’d said it when I straddled him in the theater.
“Please,” I begged, throwing off his hand, “just…go back to your table.” I looked over to their regular seats, seeing Damon watching us while pretty girls loitered around. “Lots there to keep your attention.”
“That’s not what I want,” he taunted, squeezing my waist again.
I moved down the line, looking around to see if anyone else was watching us.
“Don’t worry,” he said letting me go and adding a brownie and chocolate milk to my tray. “All they see is me fucking with you. They’d never suspect—”
“That you were serious?”
He grinned to himself and dumped a bag of pretzels and some French fries on my tray. “No, that you like me.”
He reached around my other side, his cheek on mine as he reached for a pudding and fruit cup.
He blanketed my back, pressing into me, and my heart beat so fast. I turned my head, feeling his lips close to mine.
“Please, just…” Go sit down.
But the words were lost, and I didn’t finish the sentence. Sweat cooled my neck, and I finally clenched my tray, getting a hold of myself.
“Just go sit down,” I snapped and then blinked, seeing all the shit on my tray. “And stop putting all this food on here! You’re not eating with me.”
“It’s for you,” he told me, taking out his wallet. “You’re pale. All of that’s kosher, right?”
I growled, starting to put the food back, but he grabbed my tray and handed the cashier the money.
“I’m going to need my tie back,” he said. “Tonight.”
“I can’t,” I told him.
“You will.” He took his change and handed me the tray. “I’ll pick you up at the end of your block at eleven.”
“I can’t,” I said, louder this time.
But he came in closer, looking down at me. “And then I’m taking you to my house. Just us. I want to have a Mission: Impossible marathon with you tonight.”
A Mission: Impos…? I snorted, despite myself, and quickly looked away, trying to hide my smile. God, he was an idiot.
I wanted to go, though.
I stood there, shaking my head absently. “I can’t,” I mouthed.
Martin would find out.
My grandmother would need me.
We had school tomorrow.
I’d let things happen he’d only make me regret.
But he came in, taking his tie around my neck and rubbing it between his fingers. “You come to me,” he said, “or I’ll come to you.”
• • •
I got an A on that Lolita study packet. Over a week late, and I still got an A. And the best part was, I didn’t even turn it in. I was tempted to.
I just couldn’t do it, though. Every educational success I would’ve had after would’ve been marred. The rest of my life would’ve been over.
A fraud. A cheat. A lousy example to my children.
All because I faked one English assignment. That was how neurotic I was.
Unfortunately, the long arm of Will Grayson stretched all the way into the teacher’s gradebook and changed my zero to a hundred percent, despite the missing assignment.
Not very inconspicuous. I would’ve been fine with a ninety-eight. Safe with a ninety-two, even.
I’d inform Mr. Townsend tomorrow that the grade was wrong.
If I didn’t forget.
I walked across the empty locker room and opened the shower curtain, stepping in and hanging my towel on the hook. Turning on the water, I dipped my already wet head under the spray, my skin breaking out in goosebumps at the feel of the hot water.
It was only four thirty in the afternoon. I still had hours before I was supposed to meet Will, and even though I’d spent the rest of the day—and my private time sneaking into the pool for a workout afterward—trying to tell myself I wouldn’t care when eleven rolled around, and I’d left him waiting at the end of my block, it hurt inside a little at the idea of blowing him off.
It shouldn’t hurt, right? I never agreed to go to his house tonight. He never even asked. Just another guy making you feel obligated to show him how grateful you are for his attention.
I pumped some shampoo into my hand from the dispenser on the wall and washed my hair, trying to hurry. I still had to make dinner, do homework, and I’d promised my grandma we’d watch a movie in her room tonight.
And I still wanted to get to the gazebo tonight to get some work done.
Will could come to me. If he found me.
I rinsed my hair and conditioned, pumping some soap into my hand and scrubbing the pool off my body. But I stopped, feeling the nubs on my legs.
Maybe I should shave again. I mean, if he found me, I…
Then I shook my head and stood up straight. For Christ’s sake. Get it together.
I finished washing and ducked my head under the water again, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair as I stared ahead.
But then a shadow moved on the other side of the shower curtain, and I froze.
It stopped, standing there, the dark form looming just outside.
My heart skipped a beat. Only the emergency lighting remained on since there wasn’t supposed to be anyone staying after school for any sports or band today, so I blinked as if that would clear my vision.
Shit, I needed my glasses. I could see okay without them, but I was nearsighted.
“Hello?” I called out. “Who is that?”
Forgetting to turn off the shower, I reached over and grabbed my towel, holding it up to my body.
“Martin?” I said.
The shadow peeled back the curtain slowly, and a lump swelled in my throat as Damon Torrance stepped into the shower with me.
“What the hell?” I barked.
But he just came closer, closing the curtain and approaching me with a towel around his waist, his smile coming into view.
“Martin?” he repeated. “Why would your brother be stalking the girls’ locker room?”
“Why are you?”
I backed into the wall, the shower spilling over my shoulders and drenching the towel I clasped to my body.
He shrugged. “Practice just ended. I needed a shower.”
“The team isn’t practicing tonight.” I shoved him in the chest, pushing him away. “You’ve been here. Were you waiting for me?”
But he just came right back in, pinning me to the wall. “Shhh…”
He stroked my hair, pressing his body into mine as he breathed down on me.
My knees started to tremble, and I clenched my thighs, suddenly feeling like I was going to wet myself.
I jerked away, pushing at him with one hand and holding my towel with the other. “What do you want?”
He pinned my wrist to the wall at my side as he smiled down. “I want to know what he sees in you. Maybe I’ll see it, too.”
My stomach twisted into a knot. I’d rather fucking die.
I looked up into his black eyes and smelled that shit he smoked, a scream lodged in my throat.
Just scream.
Scream.
There was no one here to hear me, and even if there were, Martin Scott wouldn’t believe me. I was going to pay for this either way.
“Get out,” I gritted through my teeth. “Get the hell away from me!”
“I thought you’d have more fight,” he said, studying me. “You’re kind of disappointing.”
What, you can only get hard if I’m scared?
I was scared.
“Leave.” I glared up into his eyes and then slapped him, but he shot out for my hands, trying to get a hold of them as I fought.
My towel fell, and he caught both my wrists, bending my arms at the elbows and holding my hands between our chests, using his weight to keep them pinned.
“Leave!” I growled.
“Then scream,” he demanded instead.
I locked my jaw, pretending I was tough, but I was breathing a mile a minute.
He looked into my eyes, the water falling over both of us as he searched my face. “Why don’t you scream?”
You wouldn’t understand.
I gathered it was new for him. He preyed, because it got him off, but it ruined all of his plans when he wasn’t the victim’s first rodeo, didn’t it?
Because it wasn’t the blood he was after, but the fear.
It wasn’t the sex, but the power.
His eyes trailed down my neck and slowly down my arm, narrowing.
I don’t scream, because….
“Because screaming doesn’t help,” he murmured. “Does it?”
My heart thundered in my chest, but I remained frozen, staring up at him as he looked at my body and the bruises in the shapes of fingers wrapped around my upper arm. The scrapes on my legs and the blue and purple on my shoulders.
“Because you get tired of being the victim,” he said, like he was thinking out loud, “and it’s easier to just let it happen.”
He raised his eyes, meeting mine again, and my throat stretched painfully as his words burrowed into me.
He loosened his hold, but I didn’t run.
“To just pretend we’re in control of everything happening to us,” he told me.
He blinked a few times, his demeanor completely changed, a troubled set to his brow.
My chin trembled.
“Until you can’t remember who you were before you started lying even to yourself,” he added. “Until you can’t remember ever smiling when it didn’t fucking hurt.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I ground my teeth to keep my shit together.
Abuse can feel like love.
I remembered his words from lit class.
Starving people will eat anything.
His eyes fell down my body again, his head cocking and taking the purple and red on one side of my torso and the others on my thighs.
He didn’t have any marks that I could see, but there were other kinds of pain.
“Will is like that,” he said, his voice softening, somber now. “Isn’t he?”
Like a smile that doesn’t hurt. I nodded.
“Easy, normal, peaceful…” he told me. “The only thing in my life untouched by anything ugly. Nothing has tainted him. He’s the one thing that’s still beautiful and thinks the world is beautiful and believes people are beautiful and all that shit.”
Yeah. But I couldn’t say it out loud, because it was hard enough holding back the sob.
“You can’t take him away from me,” Damon told me, stepping back and letting me go.
And in that moment, I understood exactly what his problem was. He didn’t dislike me. He resented Will liking me so much.
One day of wearing his school tie, because I loved the way he made me feel that I had to have a piece of him with me every moment, was nothing compared to the years Damon had relied on Will to be his little beacon of hope that the world was still a pretty place.
“You know it won’t work anyway,” Damon pointed out. “His family is one of the wealthiest in the country, Emory. His life is so far beyond your understanding, and vice versa. You know you have no place in Will Grayson’s Homecoming picture.”
I dropped my eyes, slowly sinking down and picking up my soaked towel, holding it over my body.
“I know,” he continued. “Hurts to hear it, but it’s true, and you know it. And what’s more? It’s pointless, because you know how you are. Even I know how you are. The whole school knows. He won’t fit, because you’re committed to being miserable and you’ll just drag him down.”
I fisted my hands, wanting to scratch him up good.
I was not miserable. I was…
My heart sank, and I looked away.
He was right. What had I done since the beginning but push Will away?
I knew how it would end, so I knew better than to let it start.
“He wore you down,” Damon went on, “and you need a release. I get it.”
He approached me again, water spraying over his body as he hovered over me, imposing in a different way now that still scared me, but didn’t frighten like before.
“So take it for what it is,” he whispered. “And release with me.”
My stomach swirled. Huh?
“His infatuation will end, so pretend you’re the one in control,” Damon taunted. “Call it for what it is, because it’s sure as shit not love. It’s a crush. Hormones. Instant gratification. Acting out.”
No. It wasn’t.
Was it?
I mean, was he right? Was Will just a scratching post? Would he ever be anything more? I knew he wouldn’t.
I could do it with anyone. I could do anything I wanted to. Will wasn’t the only person I could escape with.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Damon asked. “That need kids like us feel that Will never will? That need to destroy anything good, because every man for himself, and if you can’t beat ’em, then join ’em.” He came in and caressed my hair, and my chest ached, like something wanted to tear out of it, and I just wanted the pain to end.
Even for a minute.
I wanted the control.
“That tingle between your thighs,” he panted, “that’s telling you to just let it happen, because in the backseat of my car is where you’ll be in charge.”
I trembled, tears pooling, but when he pressed his body into mine, I gasped, my eyes falling closed.
“And when you’re done with me,” he breathed out over my mouth, “you’ll get to be the first to walk away from something that was never going to happen anyway. You can do that with me. Don’t play with his heart. Use me, instead.”
I’d be in charge, because I’d never love Damon.
I’d never be broken.
“I’m good,” he whispered, holding my eyes. “I’m really good, Emory, and I’ll make it worth it and save you the pain of him. As long as you quit now.”
I planted my hands on his chest, entertaining what it would be like.
What it would be like to feel him on top of me.
What it would be like to kiss that mouth.
I thought about what it would be like…for a moment.
And then I blinked long and hard, clearing my throat.
He was good. I’d admit that. No wonder he got as much ass as he got, because if all anyone wanted was sex, Damon Torrance was gifted at manipulating someone’s mind. Putting the right glasses over someone’s eyes to make them see the world how he wanted them to see it.
God help the woman who ever fell in love with him.
I was tempted. I was tired of myself, and it was alluring—the prospect of not being me for a night.
But Will liked Em. I’d rather live in that memory of the movie theater forever than ever make another one with anyone else.
I pushed Damon away. “And you call yourself his friend.”
He stood there, faltering for a moment, but then he chuckled, recovering. “His best friend,” he pointed out. “Maybe he sent me to test you.”
I rolled my eyes, wrapping my towel around me and shutting off the water.
“Or maybe not,” he said, and I looked over to see his eyes falling down my body slowly. “You would’ve liked it, you know? I think I might’ve liked it, actually. It certainly wouldn’t have been a chore.”
Asshole.
“Get out,” I said.
He nodded, turning around. “Well, I tried.” And then he looked back at me over his shoulder. “Has Will seen the bruises?”
I tensed.
“Be prepared for what’s going to happen when he does,” he warned. “And what can happen to him if he goes up against a cop.”
He walked out, and I stood there, my shoulders slowly slumping with the weight of his words.
Will could never see the bruises.
• • •
The moon hung low, casting the only light into the kitchen as I unloaded the dishwasher. I stacked the glasses and sorted the silverware, refusing to look at the clock that chimed on the wall, the pendulum inside ticking away the seconds.
“You should get to bed,” a voice said.
I faltered, hearing Martin behind me.
He approached my side and reached down, picking up a couple of plates out of the washer and handing them to me.
I took them, bracing myself. “I will after this,” I murmured. “Promise.”
I turned and put the plates in the cabinet, waiting for his temper. Always waiting.
“Your grades are looking good,” he told me instead. “And the gazebo is coming along. People compliment me on it.”
He loaded the dirty bowl and fork into the dishwasher, and I rinsed out the sink and wiped off the counters.
“You still have a year to start applying, but I’ll try to help with anywhere you want to go to college,” he said. “Okay?”
I blinked away the sudden burn in my eyes, nodding. These moods were harder to take sometimes than the violence.
I wiped down the stove, setting the spoon rest back in place and waiting for him to leave.
But then, I felt his fingers brush my hair, and I stopped, standing there but still not looking at him.
“I’m sorry, you know?” he choked out, and I could hear the tears in his throat.
I locked my jaw, trying to keep it together.
“I do love you, Emmy.” He paused. “That’s why I want you to go. You’ll be the one thing in this family that’s not a fucking failure.”
I closed my eyes.
Please, just go. Please.
“It just builds up,” he explained at my back, “all day, every day, until I can’t see straight, and I’m confused and blinded and ready to jump out of my skin. It’s like I can’t stop it.”
And when he comes home, he takes it out on me, because I won’t tell and I won’t run.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing when I do it,” he mumbled. “I just can’t stop.”
A tear fell down my cheek, but I didn’t make any noise.
“You know this isn’t me,” he said. “Right?”
I nodded, finishing the stove.
“Remember when I used to let you ride in the front seat?” he said, laughing a little. “Even though Mom said you were too little, so I’d wait until we got out of the driveway, and then I’d let you crawl up front?”
I forced a laugh. “Yeah.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “As long as I promised not to tell Mom you were running a casino night in the basement while they were in Philadelphia that time.”
He chuckled. “Is it strange that someone who loved breaking the rules became a police officer?”
“No,” I told him. “They make the best cops. They know all the tricks.”
He grinned. “True.”
And what better place for a criminal to hide?
I didn’t say that out loud, though.
“I got you something today.”
He turned and dried off his hands, walking to the table where a brown bag sat. Reaching in, he pulled out a large, hardcover book and came over, handing it to me.
“It’s used, but it caught my eye today when I walked past the library’s sidewalk sale.”
Greatest Deep Sea Dives.
I smiled and started flipping through it, evidencing my interest. “It’s great,” I chirped. “The photography is so beautiful.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
He turned and grabbed his Thermos and lunchbox, and a glimmer of relief hit me, knowing he was getting ready to leave for the night shift. I drew in a welcome lungful of air.
“I love coffee table books,” I assured him. “Thanks for remembering.”
He came over and kissed my forehead, and I stilled, only relaxing again when he’d backed away.
“Lock up tight,” he said. “And sleep well. I’ll be home at seven.”
“Bye.”
He left, heading to work, but it wasn’t until I heard his car engine fade away down the street that I finally moved.
Putting the grocery bag in recycling, I carried my book, checking the doors and making sure lights were off before heading upstairs to my room. I left the lamp off and trailed to my bookshelf, pushing the row of books upright again and slipping in the newest addition to my collection.
Barcelona: An Architectural History.
101 Most Amazing Caves.
Always Audrey: Six Iconic Photographers. One Legendary Star.
West: The American Cowboy.
History of the World Map by Map…
I backed up, reading all the other spines on the two shelves, heavy with more than just the weight of the hardbacks. I liked to put them on the shelf whenever he gave me one. It pleased him to see me display his gifts, but also…it was like I’d accomplished something. It was like a trophy.
When the bruises faded, and I had nothing else to show for what would never fade in my head, I had this.
One book for every time I stood back up.
Again.
And again.
And again.
He’d bought me other things over the years, presents every time he’d spent his anger and the guilt crept in, and those things were also set about the room. Things I’d leave behind when I left, so that when he came in here, he’d see and remember everything, but I’d be gone.
I dropped my eyes.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
My grandmother slept down the hall, the record player in her room working its way to the end of side A, and I wanted her to live forever, but sometimes…
Martin would be so much worse if she weren’t here. She was the only person who loved me. I needed her to stay alive.
But she was in pain.
And if she were still alive when I was supposed to go to college, I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave her with him, and I’d have to stay here.
I hated myself for that thought, but…
While I didn’t want her to go, I needed to get out of here.
What the hell was I going to do?
I hugged myself in my cardigan, only wearing my sleep shorts and tank top underneath, and turned around to close my curtains.
But someone sat there, in the corner of my room in my chair.
I gasped, jumping back.
“Hey,” Will said.
My eyes widened, and I breathed hard, my heart still lodged in my throat. “What the hell?” I dashed to my window, plastering my cheek to the pane to get a view of the driveway and make sure my brother was gone.
“No candle in your window tonight?” he asked.
But I wasn’t listening. “Are you insane?”
I scanned as much of the street as I could see through the tree outside, but I didn’t see Will’s truck. Hopefully, he’d parked it far away.
How the hell did he get in here? My brother just left. He could’ve seen him.
“You have to light a candle, Emmy.”
“I never light a candle!” I growled in a whisper so my grandma wouldn’t hear. “I don’t give a shit about EverNight. You have to leave.”
He sat there, wearing jeans and an Army green T-shirt that brought out the color of his eyes even from here. His hair was relaxed, the gel from the day about gone and laying across his temples so beautifully.
“What did I say?” he said in a low voice. “If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”
So I didn’t show up down at the end of the block. As important as a Mission: Impossible marathon was, I had other things to do, and he neglected to ask if I was free tonight.
He stared up at me, his arms resting on the chair, and I forced a scowl, despite the shot of excitement through my body at seeing him.
“I can’t believe Emory Scott has a poster of Sid and Nancy on her wall,” he joked. “A couple of obnoxious junkies, one who could barely even play his guitar.”
“Please,” I asked, ignoring his teasing. “You can’t be here.”
He rose slowly, never taking his eyes off mine. “Or maybe you have a thing for doomed romances.”
I stepped back as he stepped forward. “Just leave,” I told him again.
But he kept coming. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered.
I shook my head, curling my fingers into fists.
“But I’m getting really tired of you looking at me like that,” he said, his expression suddenly serious. “Like I can’t be trusted.”
Well, could he? And even if I could trust him to have good intentions with me, I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t want him involved in my life. I was doing him a favor.
I loved the theater, and I’d treasure the memory forever.
But Damon was right. Yesterday was fun. We were done.
“You need to leave,” I said again.
His eyes sharpened on me. “And I’m getting really fucking tired of you saying that.” His jaw flexed. “What’s the problem? Yesterday was amazing. Why do you always have to think so much until you’ve twisted something that was good into something bad?”
“I don’t owe you anything,” I bit out, “and I didn’t invite you in, so just leave! Get out.”
He stopped, the glare in his eyes almost as heart-stopping as his smile. “You know, I was nicer to you than I had to be.” He squared his shoulders. “You know how many girls I can get like that?”
He snapped his fingers, and the funny, laidback, sweet protector from the last several days was gone.
Believe me, I was well aware that he could get any piece of ass he wanted and had already. I wasn’t the first to touch or kiss him.
“Well, I should just thank my lucky stars that all my relentless, hard work following you around like a pathetic puppy just to get your attention actually paid off!” I yelled, calling him out fucking good.
He chased me! Not the other way around.
He took a step toward me but then someone called my name, and he stopped, both of us glowering at each other.
My blood boiled, and I could see his neck glowing with a light layer of sweat already.
Everything was hot. It was dark, we were close, and my bed was right there.
My clit throbbed once, and I stopped breathing.
“Emmy,” a small voice called again.
I blinked, releasing the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“Emmy?” my grandmother called again.
Will’s rigid stance relaxed a little, and his eyes softened.
I dropped my gaze and shook my head, managing no more than a whisper. “Please, just leave.”
I left the room, turned right, and headed to my grandmother’s bedroom, the late evening breeze making her white curtains billow.
She tried to push herself up in bed, her bulky pink robe wrapped around her.
“Hey, hey,” I said, rushing up and lifting the cord to the oxygen mask so she wouldn’t snag it. “I got it. I’m here.”
She sat up farther, leaning back on her pillows as I helped her take off her mask.
I put it up, listening to her breathe and making sure she was alright for now.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I just needed water.”
I picked up her cup and refilled the water, handing it to her as I held the straw in place.
“You forgot to light my candle,” she said as she took a sip and peered up at me.
I stared at her, my brow still tense from a moment ago. Everyone was out to try my patience today, it seemed.
“Don’t give me that look,” she warned. “Go light it. It’s my last, no doubt.”
I pursed my lips, knowing there was no way to argue with that. She may not be here next EverNight.
Fine.
I turned and walked to the mantel, grabbing the matches we kept for the fireplace she no longer used and took one of her midnight patchouli-scented candles to the windowsill. I set it down and lit it, making sure the flame was visible through the glass.
Such a stupid tradition.
Although, there was something more alluring about it now, since Will told me more of the story. Every October 28, since 1955, a year after the Cold Point murder, the residents of Thunder Bay lit candles in their bedroom windows for Reverie Cross on the anniversary of her death.
While the basketball team made their annual pilgrimages to Edward’s grave, everyone else honored his victim, convincing themselves that if they didn’t, not even death would withhold her vengeance. If your candle was still lit by morning, you were in her favor.
If not, something bad would befall you before the next EverNight.
It made about as much sense as throwing salt over your shoulder to ward off bad luck.
I watched the reflection of the candle flickering in the window and then reached over, closing her other window. If she wanted the candle to stay lit, then she’d have to do one night without her beloved wind.
I cast one quick glance out the window, wondering if Will had left.
Walking over to her side, I took the cup and set it down, smoothing her hair away from her face. Eighty-two years old, and she looked five hundred.
Except for the eyes. In her eyes, she still looked sixteen and secretly planning to steal the old man’s car for a joy ride with her friends.
“Do you have a boy here?” she asked.
I stilled. “No, Grand-Mère.”
“Menteuse,” she retorted, calling me a liar in French. “Qui c’est?”
“Who’s who?”
She jerked her chin behind me, and I whipped around to see Will standing in the doorway.
Dammit. I told him to leave.
But he just walked in, smiling gently. “Allô,” he said. “Je m’appelle Guillaume.”
I gaped at him, hearing French spew out of his mouth like it was nothing. Guillaume was the French variant of William.
Seriously?
Frankly, I’d been surprised he even spoke English. Figured him for someone who communicated solely in emojis.
But my grandmother smiled. “Parlez-vous français?”
“Un peu,” he said, measuring about half an inch with his fingers. “Très, très peu.”
She laughed, and that same smile that made him look like he was built for hugs spread across his face.
He looked down at her, and I rolled my eyes.
Un peu, my ass.
My grandmother had been born here, but her parents came from Rouen in France. They fled in the thirties under the growing threat from Germany, and even though she’d grown up speaking English at school here, her parents made sure to preserve her heritage.
In turn, she raised my mother to speak French, as well. I didn’t speak it as well as I’d like, but I understood it.
More French poured out of Will’s mouth as he talked with her, and I listened.
“I hope we didn’t wake you.” He looked thoughtful. “Your granddaughter was giving me the verbal beating I deserved. I apologize.”
My heart pitter-pattered a little, but then my grandma laughed.
“Perhaps deserved,” she said. “And perhaps she has my short temper.”
I leveled her a look.
Settling back down into her bed, she took her mask off the hook, holding it. “It was a long time before I met someone who could take me,” she explained. “That’s the thing about broken people, Guillaume. If we ever give you our heart, then you know that you deserve it.”
Tears welled in me, but only for a moment.
“He was patient with me,” she told him, a far-off look in her eyes.
My grandfather.
Long since passed, but they were well and truly in love. At least she was happy for a while.
“Now go,” she told us, starting to put on her mask. “I’m tired.”
Like hell she was. We could watch a movie or something.
“Grand-Mère…”
But she shouted, “Go! Be young!”
I wanted to laugh, telling her that I was forty-three at this point and just over it, but it would make her happy if she knew I was happy, so…
She put her mask on, and we left the room, me leading the way back to mine.
Once inside, I closed the door and watched Will set a candle on my windowsill. It was the one that sat on my grandmother’s dresser. He must’ve swiped it.
He pulled out a lighter from his jeans and lit it, positioning it center as the small glow came to life, burning against the black night.
He turned, the light of the flame flickering in his eyes as he looked over at me.
“No movies tonight then?” he asked, walking around my room.
I shook my head, not meeting his eyes.
“And I think,” he continued, moving toward me, “even if you could leave, you wouldn’t anyway.”
Taking a step, I moved away from him, both of us circling each other.
Again, I shook my head.
“Because you’re suspicious of everything good,” he told me.
I remained silent, continuing to move away as he moved in.
“And it won’t end when you go to college or leave this town, Em. Nothing will change. You still won’t have good things.”
I tried to swallow through the lump in my throat, but I couldn’t.
“Because you’ll still be you,” he said.
I breathed in and out a few times, and then the words spilled out before I could stop them. “I want to let this happen,” I told him, finally looking up and meeting his eyes. “Part of me really does, Will. You know why?”
He stared, and I barely noticed that we’d both stopped moving.
“Because as soon as it was over, I know I’d never have to hear from you again.”
I didn’t blink as I held his eyes, his beautiful greens sharpening and his spine straightening.
Yes, fucking you would be the one way to get rid of you. It was almost tempting.
But then I watched his lips tighten as his eyes glistened.
He fell silent, looking taken aback, and I faltered, watching my words work their way through his head, slicing a bloody path that I immediately regretted.
He dropped his eyes, stuck the lighter into his pocket, and let out a resolved breath. “Why are you so mean?”
But he didn’t really want an answer. Turning away, he left my bedroom and headed down the stairs, and in that moment, my insides crumbled, because I knew I’d gone too far.
I didn’t want this.
I didn’t want him to go, because I’d never hear from him again. I’d go to school tomorrow, pass him in the halls, but this time, he wouldn’t look back at me.
I’d gone too far.
Racing after him, I jogged down the stairs, leapt over the last few steps, and pushed the front door closed again just as he was opening it.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, gripping his T-shirt at his waist and dipping my forehead into his back. “I’m not…” My voice shook. “I’m just…not a happy person, Will. And you’re right, I never will be.”
Tears lodged in my throat, and I blinked long and hard to keep the tears away. I didn’t want to cry in front of him again.
He stood there, still, only the beat of his heart pulsing through his body.
“I’m not right for you,” I told him.
And not because he was rich and popular and I wasn’t, but because he made my life better. I looked forward to him.
What did I give him?
“Noted,” he replied coolly. “Now let me go.”
I squeezed my eyes shut at his cutting tone.
He wouldn’t be back.
And something started to come over me, like a curtain falling—or lifting—and for once in my life, I refused to stop myself. I was so cold.
And he was so warm. It was like an invisible rope pulling me to the edge that it was beyond me to control.
“You wanted your tie back,” I whispered.
His back moved with each breath. “Keep it,” he told me. “Or throw it away.”
He reached for the door handle.
“You want something of mine instead?” I blurted out.
He stopped, gripping the handle but not turning it.
My heartbeat raged, and I knew I was going too far again. I’d regret this. I’d hate him later. He’d hate me. My brother could drop by on his rounds to check on me…
But…I didn’t give a shit.
I wanted to be here now.
Pushing my cardigan over my shoulders, I pulled it off my arms and held it out in front of him.
“This, perhaps?” I asked softly. But then I let it slide off my hand to the floor. “No, it won’t fit you, I guess.”
He stared down at my discarded sweater, and I could barely breathe, but he wasn’t leaving, and I kept going.
Taking the hem of my tank top, I pulled it over my head, the air hitting my bare breasts, every inch of my body alive with awareness. “Or this?” I murmured, holding my white top in front of him.
His chest rose and fell harder, and it was like he was frozen, unable to move.
I leaned in, pressing myself into his back, and dropped the shirt, whispering up into his ear, “That’s too small, too. I told you, Will Grayson. We…don’t…fit.”
He exhaled hard, looking over his shoulder. “There’s a part of you that’s my size, I’ll bet,” he teased.
I bit my bottom lip to keep my excitement in check. I slipped my hands inside his shirt and circled his waist, running my fingers over his stomach and up his abs.
Heat pooled between my legs, and I nearly groaned, feeling his soft, tight skin, the muscles and curves of his body and things I wanted my mouth on now, not my hands.
There was nothing about Will Grayson that wasn’t perfect. God…
“I want to take off your shirt,” I told him.
He planted his hand on the door to steady himself, and I could see the sweat on his temple.
He looked exhausted. I almost smiled.
After a moment, he straightened, and I took that as my cue. Lifting up his T-shirt, I pulled it over his head, dropped it to the floor, and came in, circling my arms around his waist and pressing my skin to his as I took a chunk of his back between my teeth.
He gasped, slamming his hand into the door again, and I grinned.
I dragged my teeth across his back and then licked his skin before kissing him. He moaned, and I held him, closing my eyes and feeling his body quiver. His smell—warm and heady—seeped into my brain.
I wanted him to know he deserved better. I wanted him to know that if I were someone else, I’d be his and I’d love him so good.
Running my hands up his chest, I traced the ridges of his collarbone, down the dip between his pecs, and trailed kisses on his back.
Reaching over, I pulled a silk paisley scarf off the coat hanger and brought it up to wrap around his eyes.
He inched away, trying to turn around, but I stopped him.
“What’s this for?” he demanded.
Every bruise on my body throbbed, and it took a moment to answer. “Rules,” was all I said.
He didn’t understand, but he didn’t argue, either. I tied the scarf around his eyes so he could face me and not see everything.
His breathing quickened as he lost sight of the world around him, and I turned him around, looking up at his face.
“Can you see anything?” I asked.
“No.”
Inching up on my tiptoes, I pressed myself into him, guiding his arms around my body and then wrapping mine around his neck. “And now?”
The corner of his lips lifted into a smile, his hands immediately roaming and taking hold of me. He ran his fingers all over my back, the pressure growing as he learned the terrain, and then he slid his hand up my stomach, taking one of my breasts in his palm as he leaned down and took my mouth with his.
I sucked in a breath, whimpering at the heat and nerves firing over every inch of my body. Lifting me off my feet, he moved over my mouth, slipping his tongue between my lips, and I groaned, feeling it down to my toes.
A sound pierced the air, but I barely noticed as I wrapped my legs around his waist, lost in his body.
His lips trailed to my neck, sucking, and I tightened my arms around him, trying to get closer and closer as I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head.
“Will…”
He squeezed my ass in both hands as I found his mouth again, almost too hungry to register the far-off sound when it happened again.
He bit my lips and slipped my glasses off my head, setting them on the table.
The sound—a ringing—perked my ears, and I finally blinked my eyes open.
My phone. I pulled away from his mouth, turning my head over my shoulder toward the kitchen, hearing the special ringtone I had designated for Martin.
Shit.
I tried to push Will away. “I have to answer it.”
“Don’t.”
He pulled me in tighter, kissing me softly as he rubbed his thumb around my nipple again and again.
“Please.” I moaned, not wanting to let him go. “It’s my brother.”
“And I’m your man now.” He took off the blindfold, looking up into my eyes. “And I’m asking you for tonight.”
He started to carry me up the stairs to my bedroom, but the phone rang again.
That was three times he’d called.
I squirmed out of Will’s hold, running back down the stairs. “If I don’t answer, he could come home to check on me. He could find you here.”
He grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Then let him.” He glared down at me. “I don’t give a shit. He won’t keep me away from you, so the sooner he knows the score, the better.”
My naked body, except for my bottoms, seemed to scream, and even though it was dark, and he wouldn’t see much, he might still notice the bruises. I had to cover up.
“Let me go,” I gritted out, anxious.
But he didn’t. Pulling me in, he lifted me into his arms again and looked up into my eyes. “Look at me,” he said.
I did, the softness in his voice making me forget my brother and my body for a moment.
“I…” He trailed off, struggling for words. “I…like you.”
It sounded like “I love you,” and my chin trembled.
“I’ve liked you forever,” he said. “If you talk to him, the spell will break and the night will be over because you’re not the same in the sun. You’ll have all kinds of reasons again tomorrow about why I can’t have you. Stay with me tonight. Don’t talk to him. Don’t let anything between us tonight.”
Sobs swelled in my chest, and I held his shoulders, wanting to just wrap my arms around him because he was probably right.
“Or you can come to Homecoming with me,” he said, giving me a choice. “Tomorrow night.”
Homecoming?
The phone rang again, but we just stared at each other, me in his arms and my legs dangling.
I couldn’t go to Homecoming. I didn’t have a dress. I didn’t dance. I didn’t want to be around his people.
Martin would never allow it.
People would just laugh.
I pushed against his hold, diving down to the floor for my cardigan as the phone rang and rang. I looked back up at him, covering myself with the sweater.
“No,” I said. “You can go now. I’m sorry I stopped you.”
He advanced on me, but I turned and ran, slipping on my sweater as I dashed into the kitchen for my phone.
I answered. “Hello?”
“What the hell were you doing?” Martin snapped. “I’ve called four times.”
I almost turned to see if Will was behind me, but my heart was beating so fast, I was afraid Martin would hear the shake in my voice.
“I’m sorry. I…” I stammered. “I fell asleep with my phone downstairs.”
“Of course, you did.” His tone was clipped. “We’re expecting wind tonight. Make sure the windows are closed, the garbage cans are stored, and the…”
But my mind trailed off as he barked in my ear the same orders I’d heard a hundred times.
I licked my lips, still tasting Will and feeling the emptiness grow and grow behind me as I heard the front door click shut.
I wanted to cry.
Martin eventually hung up, and I came back to the foyer, seeing that Will was gone.
I stood there for a minute, sick of the guilt and self-hate. I’d done it again. I was a bitter, condescending coward, and hopefully, he’d move on to someone like him. Happy and bubbly and…fun.
At least I wouldn’t be at Homecoming to see him enjoy someone else.
Taking myself upstairs, I checked on my grandma one more time and then entered my room, closing the door and plugging my phone into the charger.
Walking over to the window, I watched the candle flicker, debating for a moment to leave it alone.
But I didn’t believe in anything.
Least of all, Reverie Cross.
I blew out the candle, the room going dark.
Except for the two headlights that came into view, shining outside my window. I straightened, looking out to the curb and seeing a matte black car suddenly speed off, its tires peeling and screeching as it raced away.
I squinted, but I couldn’t see well without my glasses that were still downstairs where Will left them.
It wasn’t a truck—I don’t think. It wasn’t Will.
And then I saw it. The glimmer of gold coming from the tree outside.
It shook and jingled in the light breeze, the bronze chain draped over a branch that was empty before.
I inched closer. What the hell was that?
