Chapter 31. In Which I’m at My Most Pitiful State, Which Is Impressive Because I Once Threw a Whole Smoothie at My Enemy
IN WHICH I’M AT MY MOST PITIFUL STATE, WHICH IS IMPRESSIVE BECAUSE I ONCE THREW A WHOLE SMOOTHIE AT MY ENEMY’S HEAD
The Catenoid Meadow isn’t the best place to decompress, since being here reminds me of Luca. But it’s the only place in this miniature metropolis that’s always void of people. Right now, that’s what I need.
I lie here in a borrowed hoodie from Jade, drowning myself in the grass until the sun sets and all I see are stars. They’re so clear. I’ll never see them like this again when I return to the city. Even though Bachelor Island has brought me a skyful of mistakes, I’m sad to leave.
The Medal of Victory contest is in days.
Mom and Dad arrive in days. How can I face them after all the distractions I caved in to at brAIN? After I finally felt what it’s like to be free? Knowing that, even though Luca doesn’t want my help, I can’t bring myself to prepare a project to compete against him when he needs to win so badly?
Why won’t Luca’s words stop reverberating in my mind?
How is that fair to you?
It isn’t. It isn’t fair.
“Did you hit your head and knock yourself out?” a voice calls my way.
Benedict’s voice.
I prop myself up on an arm. He stands at the soles of my dress shoes, hands tucked in his slacks pockets. I want to be irritated that my peace has been disturbed, but I’m just thankful that it’s someone I trust, even if he hates my guts now.
“I’ve been dead,” I say. “More or less.”
He lifts his gaze up to the sky as well, the gentle curves of his face lit by the waxing gibbous moon. “I’m taking it that your conversation with Luca didn’t go well.”
I let my back hit the ground again, sprawling out my arms like I’m preparing for chalk to outline my body. “It did not.”
“May I join you?”
“You really want to?”
“I’m not sure. But you’re alone, and it looks pathetic.”
A short snort leaves my lips, unexpectedly since I’ve never been more miserable in my life than I am in this moment. “Thanks. I think.”
So, Benedict lies beside me, tucking an arm beneath his head. That’s when I notice that he isn’t wearing gloves for the first time in public.
“Did Gamma shoot all your gloves into the lake?” I ask.
“Don’t be foolish. I always carry spares.”
“What inspired the change?”
“I’ve decided I’m telling my parents the truth. I don’t want to be roped into their acting or modeling careers anymore. Best way to rip off the bandage is to start getting my hands a little dirty.”
“Really? You’re sure?”
“After this summer?” He sighs. “Unquestionably. I never wish to feel this desperate to win and influence people ever again.”
“Wow. Congrats.”
“Appreciated.”
We remain in silence for a while, listening to the rustling of the tall grasses and the chirping crickets.
It’s the opposite of a conversation, yet with someone like Benedict, it feels like one.
Like we’re repairing something simply by coexisting instead of fighting.
Part of me doesn’t want to disturb this peace, but there’s a thought that won’t leave me alone.
“You said I don’t notice how people actually see me,” I say. “But I think I do. All the time. Even when I don’t want to.”
“It’s merely a metaphor, Rory,” Bennedict says. “I assumed you were wiser than that.”
“Metaphors during a fight? I’m not that pretentious.”
“Fair enough. You certainly do not have a way with words.” Benedict lifts a finger, tracing the Summer Triangle, where Altair, Deneb, and Vega shine brighter than the other stars.
They’re especially bright this time of year.
Then he lets his hand fall at his side and sighs. “I’ve liked you. This whole time.”
My body stills, my breath catching in my throat. I stay silent, trying to piece together what I surely misheard.
My brain comes up blank.
“You’re being serious?” I ask.
Benedict rolls his eyes. “What kind of absurd question is that? What conceivable purpose would lying about this serve?”
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter. “I—”
“You’re in love with Luca. I know.”
My face blooms with heat. “I never said that.”
“You don’t have to.” Benedict leans over to tap my forehead twice. “It’s written all over your face. Every day.”
I pointedly focus back on the sky to tune out my embarrassment. A cloud has covered most of the Summer Triangle, hiding it from view. “I’m sorry that I don’t feel the same.”
“It’s okay.” Benedict pauses. “It will be okay.”
My heart simultaneously sinks and warms. It’s scary, holding Benedict’s feelings in the palm of my hand.
I know I do. Because back in the ice arena, I felt like Luca held my heart in the palm of his hand, and he crushed it. Just like I did to him the day before the last test. Every day on this island, heartbreak proves to be the worst distraction.
Unexpectedly, though, Benedict and I are getting along more than I thought we would in a billion years. In our own weird, special sort of way, at least.
“I want to stay friends after camp,” I say. “Not in the obligatory, bullshit way.”
“Are you sure about that?” Benedict says, eyeing me curiously. “I fear your parents wouldn’t be thrilled.”
My stomach twists at the thought of making a friend, only to watch him slip through my fingers due to my parents’ petty business rivalry.
A real friend, too. Not a distant acquaintance, which is all I’ve ever had before, thanks to my demanding Prince List and study schedules.
I could never speak so comfortably to Shelby Chu, Elizabeth McPhail, Kaavya Chandra, or the other girls I sit with at lunch the same way I do with Benedict. Or Jade. Or Christiana.
“What about your parents?” I counter. “Wouldn’t they freak about us being friends, too?”
“You’re already forgetting that my family will cast me out the instant I renounce their contrived pursuits of modeling and acting. We could stick our tongues down each other’s throats in front of them, and that would be the least of their concerns.”
I smack him lightly on the side.
He chuckles quietly. “Hypothetically.”
“You really think that’s going to happen? The casting-you-out part, I mean.”
“Almost certainly.”
“You’re fine with that?”
“I prefer to think that I’m preemptively doing them a favor.”
“A favor?” I repeat.
“I’m only seventeen,” Benedict says. “Imagine, though, ten or twenty years from now, I crack. I can’t take it any longer.
I need to run a coffee shop. A bookstore.
I need peace. The damage of my leaving then, after that many years of solidifying my existence to the world as a Darlingtonshire, would be infinitely worse. ”
“You think?”
“I know. It’s better to be honest early. It will hurt our parents now, but it’ll save them from investing so much time and effort.”
I peer at him. “You just said our parents.”
Benedict fakes a theatrically oblivious look. “Did I?”
I smile. Even if Mom and Dad wouldn’t allow it, I want to be friends with Benedict.
Even if that means breaking a rule.
“My wisdom does not end with our parents, by the way,” Benedict says. “You should be honest with Luca, too.”
Just the mention of Luca dissolves my smile into something sorer. “Luca is done with me. He basically told me during our conversation earlier. And he should be, considering everything.”
“You never know. Love is an unpredictable force.”
“He doesn’t like me anymore. I broke his heart.”
“I think you broke yours, too, Rory.”
I laugh feebly. Emptily. “Yeah. I think so, too.”
Benedict sighs. “Then you need to piece both of yours back together.”