Chapter 29 #2
Percy stares at me, momentarily shocked out of his sorrow.
I’ll take the minor victory, but it’s not enough to merely suppress his sadness.
I want to show him how grateful I am that he’s opening up to me—to prove I’m not going anywhere and that I’ll be right here if he needs me.
So, placing both hands on the side of his kayak, I stretch out of my seat toward him.
Both our boats tremble, rocking beneath my unsteady weight.
Thankfully, Percy seems to realize what I intend, and he leans forward, capturing my lips with his.
This kiss is different from the ones we shared this morning.
Those had been full of passion, hot and heavy.
But this one lingers—a soft press of lips, so full of sweetness and longing it’s almost painful.
I’d have been happy staying like that until our current loop reset had I not lost my balance and plopped back into my seat. I reluctantly release my grip on his kayak, letting us drift apart and trying not to read too much into the symbolism.
Percy chuckles, staring at me with wide eyes. “That’s gotta be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen. Were you trying to capsize us?”
“Hey, I got the job done, didn’t I?”
He runs two fingers lightly over his lips, his cheeks reddening. “I suppose you did.”
I hesitate, not wanting to send him spiraling again but feeling the need to say it. “Thanks for sharing that with me, Perce. About your mom. It sounds like you made a lot of good memories here.”
To my relief, he smiles. “We did. It’s easy to get stuck on the loss, especially when I’m running around revisiting her old haunts. But I don’t want to remember her as something depressing. It’s the good times I want to hang onto, you know?”
I nod, thinking about my parents and the track team—about everything in my life that had become strained or broken when I came out.
As much as I want to do the same, I’m not sure I can forget and forgive quite so easily.
Percy’s mom had been taken from him far too soon, but it’s not like she’d wanted to leave.
Everyone in my life who’d abandoned me had chosen that course.
After returning the kayaks, we wander over to Market Street and grab lunch at a little bistro there.
Conversation comes easily, and we chat through the meal, catching up on our current classes and whatever else piques our interest. This effortless friendship is probably what I’ve missed most about losing Percy, and I’m grateful to have him back in my life.
I only hope he feels the same, and this renewed closeness doesn’t end up being on borrowed time.
I have plenty of ideas brewing for other ways we could enjoy ourselves—some of which even involve clothes—but we end up wandering the nearby stores and art galleries, retreading much of the same ground Quinn and I had that first Saturday.
As much as I love Quinn, I enjoy myself far more this time around.
Some of it might be the company, but I think it’s mostly my frame of mind.
Before, I’d been treating this trip as a chore to get through, especially with Percy dogging my thoughts.
This time, however, there’s nothing stopping me from enjoying the art and laughing along at all the terrible touristy gifts we find.
At Percy’s suggestion, we make a game of it, buying the worst, most atrociously ugly knick-knacks from each store we enter. Why not? All the garbage will disappear tomorrow anyway, our bank accounts reset to normal.
We’re exiting a gift shop, Percy having opted for a disgusting puke yellow T-shirt while I went for a set of coasters shaped like mittens in honor of Michigan, when we almost collide with Devon.
He’s alone for once, his usual posse nowhere to be seen.
That doesn’t stop him from giving us his characteristic sneer.
“Move,” he snarls. “You’re blocking the door.”
I would’ve crossed my arms had they not been laden with too much useless crap. As it is, I straighten my back, rising to my full height. “We’ve got as much right to be here as you, asshole.”
His eyes flick from me to Percy, and he smirks. “I’m surprised you found time to grace the rest of us with your presence at all, Rawley, given how busy you must be with your boyfriend there.”
My face darkens at that, hands tightening around the handles of my bags. Let him say what he wants about me, but Percy is off-limits.
Before I can muster a response, however, Percy snaps, “Don’t be jealous, Devon. If you wanted him, you should’ve made your move when he was available. Now, leave us the fuck alone.”
Devon’s eyes widen, and he raises his hands. “Whoa, calm down, dude. I don’t even know you.” Percy just raises an eyebrow. Devon looks between the two of us again, and his shoulders hunch. “Whatever,” he huffs, stepping aside. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Percy shoves past him, and I quickly follow suit, shooting Devon a glare.
I wait until we turn onto a side street a couple blocks down to whirl and hug Percy in a blur of flailing shopping bags.
He tenses for a fraction of a second before relaxing, letting his head rest on my shoulder as he gently nuzzles his face into my neck.
“What’s this for?” he murmurs.
“For being a total badass to Devon back there!” Not to mention how casually he’d brushed off the implication we were together. Sure, it had been in the heat of the moment, but given how he usually reacts to the slightest hint of being outed, it still seems like enormous progress.
I feel him shrug against me. “That asshole had it coming after how he’s acted toward you all trip. I’m sick of it. What right does he have to treat you like crap after he already chased you away from the track team? It’s bullshit.”
My arms clench around Percy, and my throat feels suddenly tight. Ugh, I don’t usually get this emotional about crap.
Percy, damn him, notices my reaction. “You okay?”
I nod and clear my throat. “Yeah. It’s just…other than Quinn, I think you’re the only person who has ever stood up for me like that.”
He grimaces. “People suck.”
The utter disdain in his voice makes me chuckle.
“They really do.” I’m quiet for a moment, gathering my thoughts.
“The worst part is, I still miss him,” I admit.
“Him and the other guys on the team. I mean, how stupid is that? They all turned their backs on me when they sided with Coach, but part of me still wishes things could go back to the way they were.” I sigh.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come out in the first place.
Maybe you had the right idea all along.”
“No!” Percy utters the word with such force that I draw back, peering up into his face to find his eyes hard specks of ice.
“Don’t ever think like that! That’s how they win, by making you afraid.
You’re the strongest person I know.” His jaw tightens, and he averts his eyes. “So much stronger than me.”
It’s not me he’s angry with, I realize. It’s himself.
“You’re strong, too,” I say, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “You’ve survived so much. And even if it doesn’t always feel like it, I know you’re strong enough to survive whatever else life throws at you. You don’t need to live in fear. You deserve the whole world to see you for who you are.”
“And what if they don’t like what they see?” he says, still not looking at me.
I lean in to whisper in his ear, “Then fuck ’em.”
That startles a laugh out of him, and I join in.
We must be quite a sight to anyone else walking by, the two of us with our handfuls of bags leaning against each other and cackling like madmen.
But it also feels perfect—just what we need in that moment to release the tension brought on by Devon’s assholery.
Just what I need in all my moments.
It takes me longer than usual to shove the unwanted thought aside, and I’m still dwelling on how well Percy and I fit together when he freezes. Panic sears through me, but when I follow the line of his gaze, all I see is some brick storefront with an old-fashioned sign hanging out front.
Then, I read the store’s name, and my eyebrows shoot up. “A blacksmith? Really?”
Percy shoves my shoulder. “What? It sounded awesome, that’s all. We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”
He says the last with such feigned casualness that I resist the urge to laugh again. Shaking my head, I grab his hand and tug him toward the shop with a mock sigh. “Come on. It can’t be worse than the places Quinn dragged me to.”
And it really isn’t. Though I’d never admit it aloud to Percy, the blacksmith he’d singled out turns out to be pretty kickass.
It’s part of a section of stores built as a kind of historical district and has an anvil and forges set out for demonstrations, along with racks of premade metal objects for sale.
Percy, of course, is instantly drawn to where a man dressed like someone from the 1800s is explaining his process to a handful of interested tourists.
“It’s like something straight out of RuneWorld Online,” Percy murmurs.
His wide-eyed wonder is one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen, and I resist the urge to kiss him before thinking fuck it and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek anyway. He blushes, glancing around, but everyone else is too focused on the demonstration to notice us.
Disappointment ripples through me at his reaction.
I strive to temper it with patience. As much as I wish he’d stop worrying so much about what others think and focus on what he wants, it’s not up to me to dictate his level of comfort.
Even if his anxiety stokes my own insecurities and concerns for the future.
“You’re cute when you’re nerding out,” I tell him, ignoring the knot of worry wriggling in my gut.
He gives me a small smile, and his fingers graze over mine for a second before pulling away. Baby steps, I think, trying to relish the small victory as we watch the demonstration.
“Anyone interested in forging their own knife?” the blacksmith asks when he’s done.
I can feel Percy vibrating beside me, and when he doesn’t immediately volunteer, I shove him forward. “He’d like one.”
Percy gives me a death glare, but he quickly forgets his ire as the blacksmith claps him on the back and walks him through the process of forging a blade.
After, Percy eagerly helps add a few finishing touches to an existing workpiece, pumping the bellows, holding the tongs, and even pounding a few good strikes with a hammer.
I watch enraptured the entire time, though it’s Percy more than the metalwork that holds my interest. I could marvel at his happiness for hours.
“Nice work, master blacksmith,” I say, elbowing Percy when we leave the shop. “You’re the proud owner of the very first Wentworth dagger.”
He smiles, but it quickly dims, his face falling as he turns the crude knife over and over in his hands.
“What’s up?” I study the blade. “It looks pretty good to me—not too shabby for your first attempt.”
“It’s not that,” he sighs. “Steelfang is perfect.”
My brows raise. “You named your dagger?”
He blushes slightly, the crimson standing out on his pale skin, and God, that’s another sight I’ll never get sick of. “Who wouldn’t? And besides, that’s not the point.”
“All right…” I say, my grin fading. “Then, what is?”
He lets out another long sigh and eyes his knife.
“It’s not going to last,” he explains morosely.
“In a few hours, today will reset, and this dagger will cease to exist.” He raises his arms, the bags nestled there rustling.
“All this crap will. Even Devon will forget about our confrontation and how I stood up to him.”
I’ve been doing my best not to dwell on that, but now that he’s brought it up, I must admit the thought bothers me, too. More than any other Saturday we’ve had so far, today’s one I long to preserve.
“Maybe this’ll be the day that sticks,” I say, but I know I’m not fooling either of us. Nothing we’ve done this cycle has set it apart from any other. There’s no logical reason for the time loop to choose this moment to stop. More likely than not, we’ll wake up tomorrow to yet another Saturday.
“I don’t want it all to be erased,” Percy says, his voice small.
I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how. Not when I’m fighting the same despair. “Not all of it,” I say eventually. “At least, we’ll remember.”
He nods, but I think it’s as small a comfort for him as it is for me. Because as much as I want to live for the moment, to pretend that this sense of freedom will persist and that the fragile thing Percy and I are building between us is real, that dagger offers stark proof it’s not.
None of this is.