Chapter 4
Millie
Me: You’ve been gone for three days and miraculously, I’m fine.
I texted Hyde that line this morning, but he didn’t appreciate my humor, reiterating that he’s just a phone call away if I need him.
In his absence, I’ve familiarized myself with the campus layout and figured out the gym’s quiet window.
There’s no one there at six-thirty in the morning, just me and the hum of the treadmill.
I run for an hour before the day truly starts, trying to outrun my past and the version of me that took up too much space, but once Dash shows up at my door and drags me to breakfast, any good that did vanishes.
I wish Hyde would come back for him.
He reminds me of the old me too much. He talks all the time about anything and everything he can think of, though only to me. I’ve seen him with other people, walking across campus, or huddled in the cafeteria, and his lips don’t move as much as they do when I’m around.
He must be extremely uncomfortable with my brand of silence. That’s... fine, I guess, most people are, but I wish he’d control his word-vomits because he makes me want to spill my guts, too.
I don’t mind listening. What I hate is feeling bad that I can’t trust him the way he trusts me.
He doesn’t hold anything back, having never been punished for being too bubbly, and so, three days in, I know he grew up in an orphanage, he doesn’t know his father, and that his mother passed away.
I know he was placed in foster care seven times, and every family sent him back within weeks.
He’s extremely smart, but doesn’t believe it, even though when he was sixteen, he created an app he later sold for millions.
He calls it a lucky shot.
Noah, on the other hand, barely speaks. I love that comfortable silence after a noisy day with Dash. He takes me to his room every evening where we play chess late into the night.
Given how he makes my cheeks heat and body hum, I should steer way clear, but I can’t deny myself his company no matter how hard I try. He doesn’t feel the need to fill my silence.
It’s already past four p.m. and I lie on my bed, trying to read, but words blur before my eyes. My focus is shot this afternoon.
Abby said I could borrow her books anytime as long as I was very careful not to crease the spines or stain the pages, and I took her up on the offer. I’m three chapters into some rom-com that hasn’t made me laugh once when she comes in, two shopping bags in her hands.
“Your friend gave me a ride to town,” she announces.
Before I say hi or tell her Noah and Dash are my brother’s friends, not mine, the latter enters, dropping a bag on my bed.
“Snacks,” he explains, tipping the contents onto my gray comforter. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a bit of everything. There’s another bag in the car. If you need anything else, we’ll stock up on our way.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Our way?”
“Yes, Mini. Our way. You’re coming with.”
“No.”
He folds his arms over his chest and Abby’s cheeks flare behind his back. It’s pouring down outside and Dash is in a thin gray, wet t-shirt that clings to his straining biceps. I bet the careless, dark blonde curls dripping at the tips don’t help.
She’s a walking blush whenever he or Noah stop by.
“Yes, you are. Hyde would kill us if we left you here alone and no way are we missing old Creed’s funeral. I’m pissing on his fucking grave as soon as old Greta leaves the cemetery.”
My nose scrunches as I type out a quick text to Hyde.
Me: Dash says I’m coming to the funeral. I can manage 24h alone.
Dash snatches a chocolate bar from the pile of sweets and plops down beside me, the scent of his cologne, rain, and hair product filling my personal space. He gets comfortable, resting his wet head against my pillow.
I smack his shoulder, but he doesn’t react, more interested in the rom-com cover. I half expect Abby to drop dead when he opens it with the same hand he holds the Snickers, but she just stares with heart-shaped irises.
“No chocolate. Abby will kill you,” I warn.
He looks over at her, lips curling into his signature flirty grin, eyebrows bouncing. “I don’t mind a bit of wrestling.”
My phone pings, so I avert my eyes from Abby’s dreamy, red-faced expression.
Hyde: It’s 48h. You don’t have to come to the funeral. You can wait at Creed’s, but you’re not staying on campus while everyone I trust to protect you is here.
Gnashing my teeth, I toss the phone aside. The only reason I don’t argue is that Hyde probably has his hands full with his grieving best friend and the funeral arrangements.
No need to add more worry to his plate.
I can’t imagine what Creed’s going through, but I know one thing for sure: however things are, Hyde’s sharing his emotions in equal measure. I asked Noah why my brother was so worried when Creed called, and he gave me an answer I half expected.
“We’re all best friends, but Creed has a special place in Hyde’s heart. They’re thick as thieves.”
“What’s the verdict?” Dash asks.
I run a hand down my face. “Road trip.”
“Your enthusiasm is contagious, Mini. We’re staying until Sunday, so pack accordingly and don’t forget something black for the funeral.” He sits up, leaving a wet stain on my pillow. “I’ll come grab your bag later. We’re leaving tonight.”
“Tonight?!”
His smile widens, turning triumphant as he leans in, fists landing on either side of my thighs. “Did you just snap at me, Mini Ward?”
“No.”
“Yeah, you did. You’re getting more comfortable around me, aren’t you?” He pushes back up, ruffling my hair while ignoring the way I flinch away. “I’ll come get you around six. Unless Noah’s ready sooner.”
I glance at my wristwatch. It’s already close to five.
Dash doesn’t wait for any reply, pausing in the doorway to wink at Abby. She almost melts into a puddle.
“I’m so jealous you hang out with him. With them. I don’t know which one’s hotter, Dash, Noah, or—” She cuts herself off by slapping a hand over her mouth.
“My brother?” I ask, pulling my backpack from under my bed. “It’s okay.”
Abby’s eyes grow wider. “You mean that?” She waits for a nod before breaking into a smile. “I’ve heard enough to know they’re only into casual relationships, and that’s cool. I mean, I’m eighteen. College is supposed to be about having fun, right? And I’d love to have some fun with one of them.”
Dash is her best bet. My brother’s taken his role to heart a bit too much, and Noah... from what I’ve seen, he’s not built for fun. I’ve spent three evenings with him so far, and if his focus and intensity cross into the bedroom, then Abby could be in for more than she can handle.
Says the virgin who’s attempted first time ended with emptying a bottle of sleeping pills...
“Dash.” I nod, stuffing my backpack with clothes. “If you want fun.”
“My thoughts exactly. He didn’t stop flirting the entire trip to town.” She tucks her legs under her butt, bouncing lightly on her bed. “We need a signal. You know, in case we’re busy and we don’t want the other to walk in.”
My imagination soars—the tragic side effect of being an artist—and my mind fills with Dash’s broad shoulders, the expanse of his back, his naked butt bouncing between Abby’s thighs among the mass of her pillows...
Shit. My mind’s still an overly colorful place, it seems. I shake that visual off, shoving two more sweaters into my backpack.
Abby won’t have to worry about walking in on me, but I’d rather not catch her in the act if I can help it.
“A tie?” I suggest.
“You mean tie on the handle? No, that’s too obvious. The whole building will know. Besides, we’re not frat boys, Millie.”
“Sticky note?”
“I’ve got one better.” She points to the cheap black umbrellas hanging off the coat rack in case it rains. Which, around here, I realize, it does every day ending in y. “I’ll prop one outside when I’m getting lucky.”
“Why—?”
“Because,” she says, beaming, “if you want to enter, you need an umbrella because it’s wet in here.”
A soft laugh makes it out of my throat. Between long meals with Dash and late nights playing chess with Noah, I haven’t spent much time with Abby, but she’s easy to like. She doesn’t hover, push, or prod. She goes with the flow, and somehow always knows when I need space and silence.
“Okay. Umbrella it is.”
All packed, I lock myself in the bathroom, a pair of black, thick leggings, and my favorite chunky gray jumper neatly folded and waiting on the cabinet.
Hot water patters down my back, relaxing my tense muscles. I’d lie if I said I wasn’t worried about heading to Seattle with Dash and Noah. It’s almost a three-hour drive, and though I’ve spent plenty of time with them, it’s different on campus than when we’ll be locked in a car.
There’s also the prospect of spending two nights in a stranger’s house... and meeting said stranger.
Hyde’s never talked much about Creed, neither do Dash and Noah, creating an aura of unpleasant mysticism about the fourth man in their group.
And then there’s the funeral. It’s no secret that I’m terrible with grief. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how to behave, where to stand, what to do with my hands or eyes...
I wash out the hair conditioner and switch the water off, Dash’s voice filtering through the door. I can’t make out his words, but I can tell he’s flirting, and that it’s working.
Abby’s giggling like a schoolgirl.
I take my sweet time drying my hair and taming the thick strands into a ponytail before getting dressed. Abby’s makeup supplies are neatly organized by her sink, everything from foundations, concealers, eyeshadows, and mascaras to lipsticks in all shades of red and pink.
A year ago, I had a similar collection and developed an unhealthy fascination with making myself up for a guy. I spent hours in front of the mirror every morning and afternoon before my tutoring sessions with Evan, testing different looks.
And every time he complimented me, I doubled down.