Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I wake early the next morning, nestled against Leo’s sleeping form.
Wanting to avoid the cold slap of reality, I snuggle in even closer.
Here beside him, there are no mysterious powers, no guns, no dangerous fae to hide from.
And no best friend to lie to. There’s just Leo and me in this warm, safe bed.
He stirs, lashes fluttering. Dark brown eyes peer back at me, and a lazy smile spreads across his face. “Hi.” He threads an arm around me, pulling himself into my dreamy little bubble.
“Hi.” I breathe in his woodsy scent and the sweetness of jasmine.
We linger, dozing, smiling, playing with one another’s hair. Finally, I sigh. “I have class in a bit.”
He props up on an elbow, worry creasing his forehead.
Before he can argue, I insist, “I can’t stay here. I have to go to my classes.”
His frown deepens.
“If I skip, I’ll get behind, and then—” I hesitate, not wanting to say what neither of us wants to accept: my life and future are here, in the Subworld, where we earn degrees and get jobs to pay the rent.
His nod is reluctant and resigned. “You should be alright,” he assures himself. “They won’t reveal themselves during the day. Not when campus is so busy.”
The thought has my imagination running wild. What would happen if three malevolent faeries unleashed their magic out on the quad? Probably nothing. Most students would shrug and go on their way, figuring they’ve stumbled upon LARPers or the Society for Creative Anachronism.
“But come back tonight,” Leo urges, peering down at me with anxious eyes. “Please.”
I bite my lip and nod. “Okay.” Never mind how I’m going to explain any of this to Liv.
I stall getting out of bed, even after Leo is up and tugging on a pair of sweats. I don’t want to face Rime.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a fist pounds on Leo’s door. “Hawthorn!” Rime barks. “I need a ride!”
Startled and mortified, I scramble to my feet, so fast I nearly fall on my face.
Leo steadies me. “It’s okay.”
I twist out of his grip and start collecting my clothes.
“You’ve got two minutes!” Rime warns. “Then I’m coming in.”
Leo hollers back, “Don’t even think about opening that door.”
“Why not?” Rime snorts. “Something you don’t want me to see?”
Oh god. I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t barge in last night, but that doesn’t keep my skin from prickling with embarrassment and guilt.
As I shimmy into my jeans, I notice I put my sweater on backwards.
I slide my arms out of the sleeves and spin it around my neck, my hands popping out of the cuffs at the same moment Leo embraces me.
He’s dressed, albeit barefoot and disheveled. “Don’t worry about him,” he tells me for the umpteenth time. I’m too exhausted and defeated to argue as he arranges my hair.
From the living room, Rime irritably shouts, “Let’s go!”
“Gods damn him,” Leo grumbles, releasing me and swiping his socks off the floor.
“Maybe something happened with Brier’s team?”
“I doubt it.”
In other words, Rime is punishing us.
Leo opens the door and waves me through. With my head held high, I make my way to the living room, where I busy myself putting on my shoes and gathering my bag.
“I’m not a taxi service,” Leo snaps.
“If you want to teach me to drive—” Rime goads.
Leo slams his shoes on the floor and sits down with a huff. “You can’t wait ten minutes?”
“For what? For you to dig that hole you’re in even deeper?”
Leo glares up at him. “Stay out of it.”
Rime’s eyes flick to me. “Sorry, a ghrá, but it’s the truth. He shouldn’t be involved with you.”
It’s only then that I notice Topaz lazing in the recliner by the window, sipping coffee and reading a book. Her body language is clear: she’s staying out of this.
Leo stands. “Don’t blame Betts.”
“I’m not,” Rime retorts. “I’m apologizing to her for your stupidity.”
I swipe my keys off the dining-room table and push past both men to open the door. There I wait, the cold air stinging my burning cheeks, as Leo demands to know where Rime needs to go.
“To Marshall,” Rime says. “To see a guy about a gun.”
My stomach drops and I waver, fumbling for the doorknob like it’ll keep me upright. It’s Rime who grabs me. Have I gone white? Am I about to pass out? My ears ring over the sound of their arguing voices.
Leo responds, “We’ll talk about it after we take Betts home.”
Somehow, with their help, I make it down the stairs and into the front seat of Leo’s car. And by the end of the short, silent drive to campus, I can feel my extremities again.
I turn down both their offers to walk me to Newberry. “I’m fine,” I insist. “Go do what you have to do.”
But I don’t want to know if you actually do it.
Unfortunately for me, on the first day of Brit Lit, a complete slacker claimed the seat next to mine.
Every class he comes in late and leaves early, takes up more than half of our shared table with all his crap, and worst of all, never knows what’s going on.
He’s forever leaning into me and whispering, “What did she just say?” with his fingers poised over his keyboard, ready to take notes—via me.
This afternoon, I’m exhausted, distracted, and so on edge that when he asks for the third time in fifteen minutes what page we’re on in Tristan and Isolde, I lose my shit.
I wrench a blank sheet out of my notebook, write 46 in huge, angry slashes, and shove the paper at him.
“There!” I hiss, slamming my pen down. “Now, for fuck’s sake, leave me alone! ”
He goes all victim on me, holding up his hands like he’s placating a lunatic. An embarrassing hush blankets the room.
“Everything alright, Ms. Peterson?” Dr. Bridges asks, one well-groomed eyebrow disappearing into her hairline. Of course she’s surprised by my outburst; I’ve been a model student. I’ve been a model everything.
Until the fae came into my life.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say. “Sorry for interrupting.”
As class discussion resumes, I feel slacker dude’s eyes on the side of my face.
I scowl at him without looking back, and believe it or not, he doesn’t ask me a single question for the rest of the class.
Not that the lack of interruption helps me concentrate.
Tristan and Isolde strikes too close to home.
Forbidden lovers who are so infatuated with one another that they lie, cheat, and steal to be together? No wonder they ended up dead.
After class, as I trek across campus, I ruminate on their stupidity, because that’s what it is: stupidity. Don’t get me wrong, the story is incredibly romantic, but some relationships are simply doomed from the start. Everything, and I mean everything, was stacked against them.
Are Leo and I destined for a similar fate?
In my mind, I replay last night in a series of vignettes: our arms bound together with jasmine, the heat in his eyes as he yanked me to the edge of the bed, his earnest promises—
And Rime’s ‘disappointed parent’ face as he told me, Sorry, a ghrá, but he shouldn’t be involved with you.
Would Rime be so hell-bent on getting that stupid gun if he weren’t convinced Leo and I were going to screw things up somehow?
I can’t keep being a hindrance. No more wasting time.
I’m supposed to be looking for that tracery window, right?
So, look. Hard. Now.
I’m so focused on the first-floor windows of the Social Sciences building that, if my vibrating phone hadn’t roused me, I’d have run into a lamppost. I screech to a halt a mere foot from the cold, iron obstacle, and pull my phone from my back pocket.
Zander: Can we talk?
Seriously? He does this now?
I bite my lip and look over each shoulder, as if an appropriate reply lurks somewhere behind me.
Gossip about Tuesday and last night must’ve gotten back to him.
It doesn’t take much to set him off, or to rekindle that sense of ownership he obviously hasn’t relinquished.
With a sigh, I stuff my phone back into my pocket and keep walking. I’ll answer later. If I remember.
Two more messages vibrate against my rear end, but I don’t check them until I’m back in my room, seated comfortably on my bed.
They’re both from Leo—the first letting me know he’s on campus with Aaron, moving bushes from the basement windows of the oldest buildings.
The second simply stating: I’ll come get you around 5.
I reply with a thumbs-up, toss my phone aside, and collapse onto my pillows.
What am I supposed to tell Liv? She’ll be back from class in less than a half-hour, ready to hang out, probably desperate to talk.
Although she ran interference for me at Dimitri’s—holding her tongue as I lied to Mia and Jenna, deflecting when they insisted I go to Panama City—I know she’s not convinced I’m okay.
Her signals aren’t difficult to read: trust me, talk to me, don’t push me out of your life.
Do I admit I’m going to spend the night at Leo’s? I don’t have to explain why. Her wildest assumptions would be easier for her to swallow than the truth.
I pace the small room as I work my way through a bag of microwave popcorn.
New plan: join Aaron and Leo on their window search as soon as possible, because texting Liv would be easier than talking to her face-to-face.
It’s always better when the person you’re lying to can’t see your evasive eyes and fidgety hands.
I dust the salt and butter off my fingers, slip a few books into my backpack, and stuff two night’s worth of clothes and toiletries into my tote bag.
The door swings open and bounces off the doorstop. Fuck. I teeter, standing like a crane, one sneaker on and the other halfway to my foot.
“Hey,” Liv greets me.
“Hey.”
She drops her backpack onto her bed and plops down beside it. “Where’re you going?”
“Um, I—”
Eyes averted, she unpacks her books. “To Leo’s again?”
“Um—” The lie dies on my lips when I realize what she just said.
“Come on, Betts, really?” She groans out a sigh, slamming a folder onto her lap. “I came home last night. You didn’t.”
“You didn’t stay at O-Chi?” I blurt, either in denial or not yet comprehending.
“That’s not the point!” She slaps her bed with the poor folder, making me jump. “Enough of this bullshit! Why won’t you talk to me?”
“Okay, fine.” I steady myself and shove my other foot into my shoe. “I stayed with Leo last night.” I sound frustrated. Defensive. The exact opposite of how I intended.
She throws up her hands. “Thank you! Now, why is that so hard to admit?”
“It’s not,” I say. “It’s just that—” My phone chimes from my kangaroo pocket. Crap, if Leo’s early, and he walks in on this—
“‘It’s just that’ what, Betts?” Liv nearly screeches.
The message isn’t from Leo; it’s from Aaron: We found the window. Meet us in the library cafe ASAP.
All my blood rushes to my head.
“Are you listening to me?” Liv swipes the phone from my hand and chucks it onto my bed.
“Wha—?” Shit. I spin and snatch it up. “I gotta go.”
“Seriously? Betts!”
I stuff my keys into my pocket and tear out of the room. “Sorry, Liv,” I call out, already halfway down the hall. “I’ll explain later.”
“Fuck you!” she shouts back and slams the door.
Later, later, later, I repeat to myself as I race out into the chilly afternoon. I’ll fix everything later.