Chapter Twenty-Seven. Reid
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
REID
NOW
DAY OF LEGACY BANQUET
@haikuforyou
Larkspur survives frost
Fighting against a cold fate
We could be like that
I THINK I FINALLY pushed too far. The run with my dad was manageable until the final hill. I pretended my shoelace came untied and told my dad to run ahead. I ended up having to walk the rest of the way home, and even that was a lot on my knee.
After I shower and dress in jeans and a hoodie for the Legacy Brunch, I hobble to the kitchen for some ice and ibuprofen. For the first time since I got home, I’m not sure I can keep acting like it’s okay.
I don’t move from the couch until the front door explodes open announcing Mitchell’s arrival home. Everything he does is loud—it’s why living with him is fucking exhausting.
Jesus, was he with Clara this whole time?
I assumed he was going to go straight back to bed once we left based on the deluge of curse words he threw at me this morning when I woke him up to take her home. Keys clang into the bowl by the door. His shoes hit the wall as he kicks them off. The cacophony of Mitchell.
A large shadow looms over me, but I barely glance up.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the Legacy Brunch?” Mitchell asks.
“I’m waiting for Dad,” I say. My words jumble together, smushed against the cushion.
“What happened?”
“Go away.”
“You go. If you want to wallow so bad, you have a whole-ass room you can do that in.” He flops next to me. “You obviously want to talk.”
He’s got a point because I don’t leave.
“So talk,” he says.
I sigh. Turn so my face is less consumed by the pillow.
“Letting Clara sleep over was a mistake.”
The memory of her twined around me drags a miserable sound from my throat.
“Why?” he asks.
“We shouldn’t have gone there. We’re not together.”
“Technically you never were.”
My nostrils flare. “Thanks for that.”
He shrugs. “Just saying, what’s different now?”
“Nothing,” I snap. “That’s the problem. She still doesn’t want me.”
All I hear then is a loud, long laugh. Okay, that pisses me off. I sit up.
“Dude, it’s not funny,” I near shout. I feel my face heating, the angry vein in my temple throbbing.
Mitchell keeps laughing and rakes his hands through his hair like he wants to pull it out. “You two are trying to kill me.”
And before I know what’s happening, I throw myself across the couch to get him to shut up, headbutting him in the process. We fall to the ground in a shattering crash, Julianne’s potpourri bowl flying as we knock against the coffee table.
“Get off!” he yells.
But every pent-up, twisted feeling urges me on. Because I can’t have her. Because without him, I’m terrified I’d have no one.
He gets a grip around me and throws me back, then in a spastic spray of limbs, he swoops a leg around, pinning me. He’s got me locked on the ground, his legs squeezing me in a vise. I try to escape, but he pins me harder. I can’t move.
Brilliant idea to sucker punch a wrestler.
He’s panting, too, swipes the back of his hand under his nose, leaving a faint trail of blood across it. He pinches the bridge of his nose but still manages to glare at me.
“Let me up,” I say.
“That would be a fuck no.” His nose sounds stuffy and all of a sudden, I realize what a complete asshole I’m being.
I thump my head against the carpet, giving in.
When he accepts my defeat, he smacks me against the face, hard, then releases me. I scramble up.
“Better?” he asks.
Not exactly. It felt as though I could’ve kept punching faster and harder and it never would’ve been enough.
But that’s not about Mitchell. My chest rises quickly as I rub a palm across my stinging cheek.
“Sorta. I’ve been wanting to do that since you sent that photo and I thought you and Clara were hooking up. ”
He rolls his eyes. Scrubs a hand down his face. “God, I really should’ve told you a long time ago that I like Kenji.”
There’s a significance to his tone that makes my eyes widen. “Wait—like, you like him?”
He nods. “I’m bi.”
“You are?”
“C’mon,” he says, goading. Like I should know.
I slowly stretch my leg out and lean back against the couch. Trying to catch up with something I’ve long wondered but figured was none of my business. Memories shudder through my mind, so many things clicking into place.
“Oh my god, your Spider-Man thing?”
He lets out a low laugh. “Was more of a Tom Holland thing, yeah.”
“You made me watch that movie a hundred times.”
“Like you cared when you had your Zendaya thing.”
I shove him lightly, and we both laugh.
We sit in silence a few minutes, only the distant sound of my dad’s electric razor from his back bathroom cutting through it.
“Do our parents know?” I ask.
He nods. “And Clara … and Kenji … and Logan.”
My eyes widen. “Damn. Okay.” I shake my head slowly as that settles in.
“You’re not freaked out?” he asks, looking more unsure than I’ve ever seen him.
I get why he might be afraid I’d be weird about it since not everyone is accepting or understands. Especially in a town like ours. But I hope he doesn’t seriously think I’d ever feel that way.
I frown and elbow him. “Of course not. That would be like you freaking out that I’m straight.”
“That does freak me out.”
We both laugh.
After another moment I say, “Hold up, why Logan?”
His sigh is heavy. “You weren’t the only one who got dumped last year.”
Wow. I hate that I had no idea any of this was going on for him. He’s been a rock of support for me while going through it all on his own.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Thanks for telling me,” I say seriously.
“I know I should have sooner.” He sighs and looks down at his hands plucking up fibers from the carpet. “I’ve wanted to for a while, but … I care what you think. Maybe the most. And I was worried it might change things or something.”
“I hope it does.”
He studies me and smiles as he gets my meaning. I want him to feel like he can be himself around me. Always.
“Don’t go through shit like that alone next time.”
He nods. “I won’t. But for the record, I didn’t. Clara helped a lot.”
My heart picks up that this is what they’ve been hiding. She was supporting him in a way I didn’t even know he needed. That, more than anything, reminds me why I fell for her in the first place.
“We don’t need to hug or any—”
I draw him into a hug then. It’s quick, him smacking me hard against the back, making me cough. But when we pull apart, his eyes are glassy.
“Anyway,” he sniffs. “You’re a dumbass.”
I snort. He’s not wrong.
Each piece of potpourri clinks against the glass bowl that we thankfully didn’t break as I clean up.
“Talk to Clara,” Mitchell urges.
When he stands, he helps me up, too, just as my dad emerges ready to go to the brunch. As we follow him out the door, I turn to Mitchell. “For what it’s worth, I think Kenji likes you, too.”
He flushes and I climb into the car with a grin.
By the time we arrive at Woodhurst High, the Legacy Brunch is packed.
Is the entire town here? The overhead music booms in a way that rattles my very cells, making me already wish I could leave.
A giant, glittery banner is strung over the stage that reads, Welcome, Legacies!
, and there are dozens of round tables covered in navy and white tablecloths, the school colors.
The enticing scent of buttery pancakes and bacon hangs in the air.
Principal West rushes me and reminds me about giving a quick speech once everyone is done eating, to thank them for coming and for all their generous donations. I’m starting to count the hours until I’ve completed my guest of honor duties and can be done with all this.
Though that will mean it’s time to go back to school, which is a less-than-comforting thought.
There’s a long buffet line, and everyone’s conversations and laughter around me add to the noise. Add to my growing agitation. I pile my plate high with food and cross through the room to a table far from the town crowd so I can eat in peace. But then my dad soon joins me.
“They taking care of you over there at that fancy school? Your fall last month seems to have slowed you down a bit.”
My pulse picks up. “I just didn’t feel like pushing.”
“Since when is a five-miler pushing?”
I swipe the thin paper napkin across my lips. “No—it wasn’t. Just—forget it.”
But I’ve already said too much because he’s eyeing me closer than before. He leans forward, dropping his voice low. “You’d tell me if something serious was going on with you, right?”
All I can do is nod.
“You sure?”
“Yes. I’m just a little hungover and didn’t want to tell you, okay?”
When I look at him, his mouth has flattened in disappointment, but at least the half-truth works. He reaches for his water glass and plunks it in front of me. “Hydrate.”
I drink it down while he proceeds to lecture me.
“A little indulgence is to be expected at your age, but it’s not like you to drink. Was this with Clara?”
The empty glass strikes the table hard as my anger spikes. “Jesus, Dad. No. She had nothing to do with it.”
“I know she stayed over.”
My neck gets hot. I notice her over his shoulder then, interviewing Amaya, who’s swiping tears off her cheeks.
“You’re an adult now, but…” He sighs and rubs his forehead.
“Well, what am I supposed to think here? As far as you’re telling me, you’ve been fine all year, but the minute you see her again you’re drinking, staying up late, your times are off.
For all I know, she could be buttering you up, trying to get your scholarship money again. ”
I stare at him, too stunned to even speak for a second.
“It’s a slippery slope, Reid, and you have put in too much time and work to get sidetracked from your goals. She’s a distraction.”
I almost laugh at the irony as I hear Clara’s voice from this morning, urging me to talk to him. To tell him everything even if I don’t understand it all myself.
Now I know he couldn’t possibly understand, either.
My voice is a furious calm when I say, “You couldn’t be more wrong about her.”