Chapter 5
five
Chris
My eyes remain trained on the stairs long after Percy’s vanished up them as if I can still sense his lingering presence there.
I’d hardly been able to tear my eyes away from him all night, sneaking glimpses during the ferry ride and the cold trek to the Royal Lilac Inn.
Quinn spent the entire walk gushing over the quaint town, pointing out all the places she wanted to visit tomorrow.
I’d tried to smile and nod in all the right places, but my heart hadn’t been in it.
No…that had been with the guy trailing behind us, clearly wishing as hard as I was to be anywhere else but here.
I should ignore him—that had been my plan after he surprised me on the ferry.
I’d meant it when I’d told him to leave me the hell alone.
After the way he’d stomped all over my feelings freshman year, I wanted nothing to do with him.
But that brief flash of hurt on his face before he’d fled to his room had lodged in my skull.
He was like an irritating itch I just couldn’t shake.
“This place is pretty sweet,” Quinn remarks, dragging me back to the present.
I give a noncommittal grunt as I glance around the parlor we’d chosen to eat in. Two plush couches bracket a narrow glass table while a hanging lamp illuminates worn hardwood floors and a collection of photos on the walls showcasing what I assume to be Mackinac Island.
“It’s fine, I guess. Kinda reminds me of a cross between one of those ritzy hotels you see in movies and a cozy cabin in the woods. You know, the sort people visit when they want to be murdered.”
Quinn rolls her eyes. “You and your horror stories. Mackinac is way too cute to be sinister.”
I lower my voice dramatically. “That’s what they want you to think. It’s all a ploy to get you to lower your guard.”
“Whatever. Consider my guard lowered then because I love it here already. I read online that the Royal Lilac used to be some senator’s vacation home back in the late 1800s before they turned most of the island into a park.
He’d come here to hunt and check in with the soldiers at Fort Mackinac.
I guess the house fell into disuse after he died.
It switched hands a couple of times until Carol Lindman picked it up in the 1990s and committed to restoring it.
Much of the original exterior’s been preserved, though obviously, they’ve done a lot of remodeling inside to convert the second and third floors into guest rooms, along with a suite for the family to stay in. ”
I gape at her. “Since when do you care so much about history?”
“Since you’ve been pretty much ignoring me all night and I had to turn to the internet for entertainment.
” I blush, but she doesn’t seem upset. She must be used to my moodiness by now.
“Plus, it’s actually pretty interesting.
For such a tiny island, so much has happened here.
I sorta get what Professor Oshkoff sees in it. ”
“Careful. Don’t let her hear that, or you’ll end up roped into a historical tour tomorrow afternoon.”
Quinn gives a mock shudder. “Oh, no, the horror!”
Conversation lapses as we eat. I pick at my last half-eaten slice, my thoughts returning to the same asshole who’s occupied them since I saw him standing on that dock. My jaw clenches as I will my stupid mind to focus on something, anything else.
“Your friend seemed pretty buddy-buddy with the owner,” Quinn says between bites, a little too casually.
There’s the nosiness I’ve been dreading. “He’s not my friend,” I snap.
“Fine, your ex-friend then,” she replies, unperturbed. She taps her chin. “Wonder if he knows her from somewhere. Maybe his parents went to school with her.”
“His family used to visit Mackinac Island a lot,” I mutter, fiddling with my greasy plate.
It’s a connection I wish I’d made weeks ago before I’d agreed to accompany Quinn.
“Probably still do. I bet his stupid dad organized this whole stupid trip just so his precious kid could have an all-expenses paid vacation.”
Quinn raises an eyebrow. “Wow, how diabolical! What a jerk, shelling out so a bunch of broke college kids he doesn’t know can go on a weekend getaway instead of sending his son here on his own.”
Now that she brings it up, why is Percy here as part of a school trip instead of with his parents?
Surely, his mom and dad could’ve wrangled a weekend trip of their own.
Maybe this was some rich person’s misplaced attempt to buy their antisocial kid some friends?
If so, Mr. Wentworth had severely miscalculated, judging from the way Percy immediately fled up the stairs with his pizza.
“So…you ready to talk about it yet?” Quinn prods.
I groan and chomp down on my last bite of pizza, chewing slowly to give me an excuse not to answer.
Quinn doesn’t take the hint. “I mean, judging by the way you both reacted on the boat, I’m guessing something must’ve happened between you. That looked like more than two friends drifting apart.”
My shoulders tense. “Drop it.”
“Oh, come on, you’ve got to give me something!” She shifts on the couch to fully face me, setting aside her empty plate. “If you were best friends in high school, you must’ve met his parents. Would sponsoring a school trip like this be that unusual for them?”
“Honestly, I never spent much time around his family.” I flush at the reminder of being his dirty secret. “We, uh, tended to hang out at my place, or on our own. And then we were away at college, so…”
“Sounds like you spent a lot of time together.” She leans forward eagerly. “What was he like when you were friends? He seems nice enough—he’s got kind of a cute, nerdy vibe going on.”
The too-discerning look she gives me sets my teeth on edge. “No, he doesn’t!” I growl. “He’s an arrogant ass.”
She smirks. “Yeah, well, so are you. What’s his major?”
Point. I scowl and shift away, staring sightlessly at a photo of a giant rock surrounded by trees. “Why do you care?”
She shrugs. “Just wondering. If we’re going to be hanging out this weekend, I feel like I should at least know a little about him.”
My blood runs cold as I spin around to face her. “Hanging out?”
“Sure.” She leans back, sinking into the soft cushions, and grins. “He seemed eager enough to talk on the ferry. Maybe it’ll be good for you to relieve some of this underlying tension. Whatever happened your freshman year couldn’t have been that bad, right?”
Her eyes widen as I leap to my feet, glaring down at her with my hands balled at my waist. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about!
I trusted Percy more than anyone, and he threw me away as though I’d never mattered to him.
He made me feel utterly worthless. That’s why we’re no longer friends and why I want nothing more to do with him. All right?”
She stares up at me for a moment. Blinks. “Well, no wonder you’re such a moody dick.”
It’s such a quintessentially Quinn thing to say that, even in my current mood, I bark a laugh. “Damn straight.”
Not that there was anything straight about Percy and me…
“Sorry for pushing,” Quinn says, looking contrite. “You just keep so much of yourself hidden away. It’s good to let all those negative emotions out so you can heal and move on.”
Move on. Would I ever truly be over Percy? Someday, maybe. But not this weekend—not when we’re stuck sleeping under the same roof.
As if she can read my mind, Quinn rises and tugs on her jacket. “Come on! I saw this cool-looking bar on our walk over. Let’s go get wasted and forget all about what’s-his-name.”
“Nah, I think I’ll pass.” I force an exaggerated yawn. “I’m pretty beat, and Oshkoff will flip if we’re late for our morning of forced exercise tomorrow. Unless you want me in an even worse mood than usual, I should probably get some beauty sleep.”
Quinn pretends to pout, but I can already tell she’s letting me off the hook. When she really wants something, it’s practically impossible to say no. “If you’re sure. Tomorrow night, though, partying after dinner—no excuses!”
“Tomorrow night,” I agree, starting toward the stairs. Not that I’m likely to be in a much better mood tomorrow after spending an entire day skirting around Percy, but that’s a problem for future me.
We grab a pair of keys for adjoining rooms from Oshkoff. I raise a brow at Quinn when she follows me up the stairs. “You’re not going to explore the town on your own? Scout out what sort of vibrant nightlife a tiny tourist trap of an island has to offer?”
She shrugs. “I can wait. It wouldn’t be any fun without you.”
Her honesty catches me off-guard, almost making me stumble. Thank God for Quinn. At least there’s one person in my life who genuinely wants me around—though sometimes, I can’t fathom why.
We reach the top of the stairs and find our rooms. Quinn hesitates outside her door, glancing over at me. “If you need to talk or anything, let me know. I’ll be right here.”
I swallow a sudden lump in my throat. “Sure. Thanks.”
The room is small—smaller even than a normal hotel room.
I guess the Lindmans had to downsize in order to squeeze as many of them in as possible.
Still, it’s nice and cozy, with a bed tucked in the back, an antique dresser, and a small table crammed by the door.
Grabbing my journal, I eye the table before settling into the bed instead.
Might as well make myself comfortable—I have a feeling this will take a while.
Other than my friendship with Quinn, writing was what had gotten me through the darkest days post-Percy.
I used to jot down dumb stories and horrendously bad poetry all the time as a kid, but somewhere along the way, the habit had slipped away.
Perhaps it had been yet another casualty of losing myself to the wrong guy.
Now, though, I take solace in the orderly way words combine despite my disorganized thoughts.
Everything always works out so cleanly in a good story—action leading to reaction until an eventual resolution is reached.
Clear cause and effect. You can shape reality any way you want with pen and paper, no matter how messed up things get in real life.
I work late into the night, first recording everything that had happened today until I’ve purged all the raw emotions from my brain, then brainstorming ideas for a new story.
I’m thinking an island massacre—a crazed killer who goes on a murderous rampage against a bunch of visiting college students.
Maybe a bit too on the nose, but so what? They say to write what you know.
I’d originally intended the character standing in for me to heroically save the day and for Percy’s counterpart to suffer a gruesome death in Act 2.
By the end, however, the story gets away from me.
Percy’s death turns out to be a fake-out, and he reappears in the climax to help the hero defeat the murderer, the two of them sharing a triumphant reunion as the sun rises.
It’s past two AM when I toss my journal aside with an annoyed huff, switch off the lights, and crawl under the covers.
God, even my attempts to literally write Percy out of my life somehow end up featuring him front and center.
Too bad real life lacks the nice, ordered logic of stories.
Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that there’s no happy ending in my and Percy’s future.