Chapter Twelve
Twelve
INSIDE, THE APARTMENT FEELS MORE like a party than practice. The living room and kitchen are full of people, the countertops littered with cans of beer, red plastic cups, and half-empty bottles of liquor, juice, and soda.
Jamie tugs at his collar, ducking around everyone and giving a short wave at the sound of his name before disappearing into his room.
I slip into my own and stop when I nearly collide with a couple making out against the wall.
“Um, hi,” I say. “Please leave.”
They break apart with a messy suctioning sound, apologizing as they head for the door. I shut it and flip the lock for good measure, then do a thorough check of the closet and under my bed, in case someone might be doing the weirdest possible thing.
When I reemerge from my room, I’m dressed in dry clothes, my wet hair plopped in a messy bun and a small case clutched to my chest. I make sure to close my door behind me.
“BEE!” Mikey shrieks when she sees me.
Heads swivel in my direction, and I give a small wave as I make my way across the apartment.
The living room is packed, the TV pushed out of the way, the coffee table turned on its side against the wall to make room for the band.
They’re in budget pirate regalia, all flowy shirts and leggings, an eye patch for the drummer.
Mikey has on a pirate’s hat complete with a large red feather that bobs as she bounces beside her bandmates.
The sectional is filled with people watching the band, and the sliding glass door is wide open, letting in any number of bugs while the people outside smoke. I force myself to keep moving, even as my nose begins to tickle with an oncoming sneeze.
Be chill. You don’t need to close that door.
“Hey,” I say as Mikey hugs me, knocking her hat askew.
“Thanks so much for being cool with this,” she says. “I know you’re busy. I appreciate you rolling with the madness.”
I feel like all I’ve done since I moved in is roll with the madness, between DnD night, Mikey’s tin whistle practice, the revolving collection of houseplants in varying states of decay, and the general messiness.
If Starr and Leni knew I could roll with this much madness, maybe they never would’ve kicked me out in the first place.
“Who are all these people?” I ask, glancing around the crowded apartment.
“We thought it might be rude to disturb the neighbors with band practice,” Felicity says, appearing beside me with a can of sparkling water in hand. “So we invited them all over and promised free beer as compensation. What’s that?” She nods at the case I’m holding.
“My first aid kit.” I step away, sneezing into my elbow, which earns me a handful of Bless yous from the people around us. I wave my thanks with an awkward smile. “There was a bit of an incident.”
“What kind of incident?” Felicity asks, following me while Mikey returns to her spot with the band. I don’t think they’ve quite hit that sea shanty vibe they’re going for; Mikey’s tin whistle is wildly out of place with Denny’s screaming vocals.
Jamie’s door swings open as I reach it, and he steps out in dry clothes, his hair still wet.
It’s like seeing someone after a Halloween party—out of the uncharacteristic costume of his ROTC uniform, back to normal in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.
The cut under his eye has stopped bleeding, but there’s a semicircle of light swelling from his cheekbone to his brow, the skin still pink.
“Whoa, what happened to you?” Felicity demands, grabbing his chin.
“Fuckin’ Louisville Slugger over here.” He jerks a thumb at me.
I wince. “I hit him with my umbrella.”
Felicity’s attention swivels to me. “On purpose?”
“Technically, yes.”
“I scared her,” Jamie says, moving into the bathroom. He leans over the sink, checking his eye in the mirror.
I try not to show my surprise that he would say anything in my defense as I squeeze past Felicity and pat the counter. “Sit.”
“No,” he answers without looking at me.
I sigh. “Please resist your natural inclination to be an idiot and let me help you.”
“You mean, let you try to fix a problem you created? Pass. I have my own Band-Aids.”
Felicity groans from the doorway. “I can’t even listen to this. You two need to work out your issues. Jamie, stop being a baby. And Blair…” She eyes me. “I don’t know. Be nice.”
“I am being nice!” I protest, but she’s already shutting the door, closing Jamie and me inside.
Jamie stares at the door, his expression flattening in annoyance as his gaze slides to me. “Fine,” he huffs, hopping onto the counter. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Thank you,” I reply primly, unzipping my kit.
This is fine. I can handle being in an enclosed space with Jamie Atwater. It’s not like I’ll swoon or something.
Whatever reaction I had earlier must have been a fluke. The effect of too much electricity in the air.
I select an antiseptic wipe and tear open the packet with a little more force than necessary. “I’m going to disinfect it first.”
“Will that sting?”
I look up, smirking. “No, it won’t sting. Geez, Jamie, I thought you were a big, brave Army cadet now.”
He exhales, his mouth tightening.
“I’m kidding.”
“I know,” he says as I swipe lightly over his cut. “I’m trying to figure out how to tell you I’m not.”
“Not what?”
“Going into the military.” He’s looking down, avoiding the closeness of my gaze, but his eyes flick up briefly, catching mine in his unwavering stare. “Not if I can help it.”
I pause. “But you’re in ROTC.”
“I’m trying to drop out.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a humorless smile. “Why do you think I want this scholarship so badly? That I’d let you get involved, potentially pissing off my closest and oldest friend when he finds out?”
I busy myself with squeezing antibacterial ointment onto a cotton swab. “So if you don’t get the scholarship…”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I guess I have to get used to the idea of a lifetime of debt, because I don’t think I’m ready to sign myself over to serve our country or whatever. I thought I was, but…”
“Why haven’t you done it yet? Just quit?”
He shrugs. “Getting as many class credits in as I can before they ask me to brand the American flag on my ass.”
“Oh, is that what they do?” I dab on the ointment, resting the side of my hand along his cheek for stability. His skin is warm, and when his breath ghosts across my palm, my hand trembles. I quickly pull away. “So that’s why you’ve been so hard on me? Because it’s that serious for you?”
He looks up, catching my eye again. “I’m not trying to make it hard on you.
I’ve given you as much as I have because it frees me up to do more work on my end.
I’m worried about getting done on time. It’s the risk I took when I decided to do it on my own.
Having your help is… kind of invaluable.
I should’ve said that when you offered.”
His admission feels like missing a step. My stomach swooshes. “Um, thanks.”
“That doesn’t mean I like you living here. I’d take the trade-off in a heartbeat if I could.”
My shoulders droop. “Cool. Thanks, Jamie.” I unwrap a bandage and press it unceremoniously over his cut, making him wince.
He catches my wrist before I can back away, forcing me to look at him.
“Sawyer’s one of the most important people in the world to me.
I don’t like lying to him, and he’s going to find out sooner or later.
So if I’ve signed myself up for the fight of my life with my best friend, I really need you to come through on your end of the deal. ”
“I will. Haven’t I already?” I tug my hand back, disoriented from his closeness. I’m suddenly jittery with nerves. “Cut me some slack. I’m not a robot, Jamie.”
He slides off the counter, and the space grows crowded. I try to step away and bump the towel rack. There’s nowhere to go that isn’t right here.
“I’d really love it if you’d stop treating me like the bad guy for asking you to hold up your end of this deal,” he says quietly, his eyes downcast again. “You promised, Blair. Right here, in fact.” He points at the bathroom floor.
I swallow. “Okay. I’m—I’m sorry.”
He looks at me from beneath his lashes, and something like butterflies explodes in my stomach. My cheeks grow warm, my whole body heating. I get a wild urge to reach out and touch him.
I almost do, in fact. My hand lifts. I watch his eyes drop, tracking the movement.
And then the power flickers, prompting shouts and the screeching halt of instruments from the other side of the door. I look up at Jamie, meeting his gaze right as we’re plunged into pitch-black darkness.
The apartment is stiflingly hot, the cross-breeze from the open windows and sliding door doing little to break the oppressive warmth as the storm continues to rage outside.
After the power went out, the neighbors took off, followed by the band. My ears are still ringing from the swift departure of their chaos.
The apartment is a mess of abandoned cans and cups, the only light coming from the scented candles littered across the coffee table, which illuminate the living room in a soft, warm glow.
The plethora of smells battles it out with the scent of warm beer, like we’ve been plunged inside the world’s nastiest scratch-and-sniff catalog.
“Here,” Felicity says, tossing a bag of frozen vegetables at Jamie, who’s sprawled on the middle cushion of the couch. “Ice that eye.”
He sighs, tipping his head back and pressing the bag over his swollen skin. “It’s really not that serious.”
I wanted to take the farthest seat from him, but Andres is lying across the shorter end of the sectional, and Felicity has already grabbed Jamie’s other side. With Mikey on the floor, there was no reasonable way for me to take any seat but the one right beside him.
To his credit, Jamie didn’t even flinch. Maybe I internalized whatever came over me in the bathroom better than I realized. It’s possible he didn’t even notice. I could’ve been reaching for anything!