Chapter 10
Ten
ANDREA
“Mini… baby Jesuses?”
It’s the first hint of a smile I’ve seen on Remy’s face in ages.
A flicker of sunshine peeking out of the storm clouds.
Grinning at the sky, I grip my backpack straps and inhale the humid morning dew.
It’s like breathing in hot sewage, but I don’t care.
My best friend sounds amused by the ridiculous story I’m telling him on our walk to school.
“Like a hundred of them with different colored stoles, just packed into his lunch bag.” A giggle sneaks out at the memory of Seba’s horrified expression.
“They spilled all over the table and the kids went nuts, screaming and fighting over who could collect the most. God, Seba was fucking pissed and Cade was sitting there acting all innocent and shit like he had nothing to do with it. Spoiler alert: of course he did.”
Remy snorts. “What a shitshow.”
“Yeah, I can't wait for you to meet them,” I sigh, glancing at him.
Dark circles hang like crescents under his eyes, hollow cheeks and lips quivering as he tries to maintain a fake smile.
The lump in my throat returns. I loop my arm through his and rest my cheek on his shoulder as we round the corner.
The usual cliques congregate on Kingsbury’s front steps: girls in skirts pushing the dress code boundaries, fussing over their hair and makeup while they swap gossip, obnoxious jocks laugh and shove like toddlers in a pathetic attempt to garner any female attention, while the artsy types smoke and scowl from the sliver of shade at the top of the stairs.
One of the girls, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, spots us. Melissa— my fellow teammate. Dread settles in my stomach. Even though I saw them every day at cheer practice after Bible camp last week, I’m silently compelled to make my rounds. Except right now…
My best friend needs me.
Remy tenses as Melissa waves.
I don’t let go.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” he sighs.
Bastard is too damn aware.
I glare up at him.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s just school, Drea. I can handle it.”
“I know you can,” I murmur, tightening my arm around his. “Doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”
The gold in his hazel eyes flashes with pain. Then dulls. He extracts himself from me; it’s like fingers digging into a bruise.
“I’m fine. I promise.” He gives me another see-through smile— one that whispers, Please accept my lies. I’m too tired. Breathing hurts. My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek as he widens the distance between us. “I’ve gotta stop by the nurse anyway. I’ll see you in first period.”
I’m left to watch him disappear inside with my chest ripped open and my aching heart exposed to the miserable heat.
“Boyfriend trouble?”
Cade comes into focus as I blink away tears. He removes a pair of sunglasses.
“Not boyfriend,” I croak, clearing my throat and adjusting my bag. “Best friend. He’s having a hard time lately and… I don’t know how to help him.”
He nods, staring over my shoulder in the direction Remy fled. A line forms between his brows. “Maybe he doesn’t know how you can help either.”
His logic does nothing to relieve the agony caged by my ribs. Cade tucks his fingers into the front pockets of his baggy jeans, lost in a contemplative trance.
We’re interrupted by a snide scoff. “Damn, church girl, you sure do have a thing for gays, don’t you?”
Grant Larson approaches us, flanked by his cronies, Marcus and Jessica.
Memories replay: a short horror film. Grant’s hand around Win’s throat.
Jeers and cackling. The three of them surrounding him like vultures.
Fury festers. I cling to it like a life raft.
Because anger is easier than facing guilt or shame or helplessness.
But Cade isn’t Win.
There’s no fear in his eyes. Fire sparks— violent and deviant— his entire body deceptively loose as he spins on his heel and cocks his head.
“Lucky me then.”
Grant recoils.
Jessica wrinkles her nose.
Marcus stares slack-jawed. Then blurts, “What’s up with your eyes?”
A disturbingly calm smile curves Cade’s lips. “I’m actually a telekinetic telepath who uses his eyes to get into your head and wreak havoc.”
Marcus’s face contorts in horror.
Cade sighs. “Fuck, you’re dense. It’s called heterochromia, you incel.”
I bite back a laugh.
Grant’s nostrils flare as he sneers down at the unfazed blonde. “Got a mouth on you, huh?”
Cade runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth. “Unfortunately for you, you’ll never experience the magic I can do with it.”
Now my jaw is hanging.
The balls on this guy.
Grant jumps back like he’s been electrocuted. “The fuck, faggot!”
Snickering, Cade steers me toward the entrance, calling over his shoulder. “Takes one to know one, sweetheart!”
Grant’s curses drown under my uncontrollable giggle fit as we climb the steps. And Cade is sparkling— or maybe it’s the stars in my eyes.
“You’re deranged.”
He grins. “Yeah?”
My face hurts from smiling. “Completely.” I snake an arm around his waist. “And I’m kinda obsessed with you.”
Hugging me closer, he bends to my ear.
“The feeling’s mutual, church girl.”
I gasp in faux outrage, shoving him away only for him to reel me back in by the hand.
And I let him— for a moment. Before shoving again like a petulant child, just to relive the high all over again.