28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Penelope
I wake up to a ceiling I don’t know. There’s a loud sound. Maybe it’s a pan that was set down too hard, water running, a low voice, and then a louder one and a bark of laughter, a door. I surface through it slowly, my face in a pillow that doesn’t smell like my own, and for a second I’m confused.
I turn my head, and Percy is asleep beside me, on his back, one arm flung up over the pillow, his face turned toward me.
I go still looking at him, because I have never once seen this.
I’ve watched him not sleep — on FaceTime, in my chair, the boy who’s always awake, always the one keeping some kind of watch.
And here he is, out, all the way under, his mouth soft, the line between his eyebrows that’s always there just gone, breathing slow and even, unguarded in a way I didn’t know his face could be.
He’s asleep.
Warmth fills my chest.
He’s finally sleeping.
I let myself look at him. I don’t know for how long, but I watch him for as long as possible.
Then he stirs and starts to wake up. His eyes slowly open. For one second, his expression is still soft with no guard. His eyes meet mine, and he searches my face like he’s looking for something. I look back at him. Neither of us moves. It’s the softest I’ve ever seen him.
Then a voice comes up through the floor, close, right below us. “Stanley! I swear––”
I watch it hit him. The softness drains out of his face, replaced with horror, and I start to understand his panic. The two of us go rigid in the same instant. Then he’s out of bed when he realizes how close we are.
He stumbles over his words, whispering. I can’t hear him as I sit up.
“Slow down,” I mouth and use my hands to talk. I call him over to me.
He walks back to the bed and leans in. “We clean on Sundays,” he breathes, barely a sound at all, his mouth almost against my ear. “All morning. Everybody’s up.”
I nod, understanding.
He points at the floor, and mouths it — middle boards — and I understand that the room I’m trapped in has floorboards that’ll creak if I stand up. I look down. Shit, that’s a problem.
And immediately, of course, I have to pee. Not a little. Genuinely. I press my lips together and do the math on how long I can hold it. The answer is not as long as this is going to take.
My phone. I find it in the sheets, and there are three from Ivory.
Ivory (7:40): You alive? Drew said Theo went home last night.
Ivory (8:02): Penelope?
Ivory (8:03): Where are you?
I type lying on my side, screen dimmed, curled around the phone like it might make noise.
Me: I’m drawing again! I had major inspo early this morning, so I’ll be out all day. Text you later.
I hit send and look at Percy. He’s staring at his closet, probably contemplating his life right now. He grabs a shirt and walks over.
“I have to go down,” he whispers.
I look at him.
“If I don’t, they’ll come up.”
I understand, of course. He can’t hide in here all morning. It’s Sunday. He has a role down there, he has to go be the person the house expects and leave me up here.
“Pers,” I whisper, reaching for him. “I have to pee.”
His eyes trail down my body for a second.
Then he nods. He walks to his bedroom door and opens it.
He looks around and waves a hand for me to come quietly.
I step inside the bathroom with a racing heart.
Then I go to close the door. Percy is closing the door for me one second, and then the next, he’s walking in with his fingers to his lips with wide eyes.
He locks the door, and two seconds later, there’s a pound on it.
“Dick move, Percy. Reeve bombed the toilet downstairs.”
Percy doesn’t miss a beat. “Shower. Give me twenty.”
“Fuck!” Footsteps stomp off.
I gape at him. I didn’t know he had that in him.
I bite my bottom lip, looking in the mirror. I fix my disheveled hair while Percy cleans the toilet and then puts the toilet seat down.
He walks up behind me and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
I wave my hand. “It’s okay. Just look the other way, please.”
He nods and stands at the door. I stare at the back of his head, mortified. Am I really going to pee in front of him? Well, I’m not going to hold it in. I slip my pants down, pee, and then stand up as quickly as possible.
I tap his shoulder when I’m done.
He leans in and says, “I have to pee too, and he thinks I’m taking a shower.”
I lift my shoulder where he is because his hot breath tickles me. I touch his shoulder, bringing his ear down to my height. “If you go down there and you’re not wet, they’re going to know you didn’t shower.”
His eyes widen a little.
I whisper, “We need to buy time so that he’s not waiting for the bathroom.”
Percy nods. He gets into the tub, closes the curtain, and drops his clothes right outside the tub. I stare at the ground, wondering how the hell I’m going to get out of this mess.
His shower takes two minutes. I look around and realize he doesn’t have a towel. I open the closet door and find one. I throw it over the top for him. The towel disappears, and then he slides the curtain to the side.
The first thing I see is wet blonde hair and water dripping down his chest onto his abs. The towel he’s holding is low on his hips.
I blink frantically and then cover my eyes, turning around.
I put a hand out as in to say sorry. He taps my shoulder, and I shuffle out of the way without looking at him.
And then I realize I have to look at him — we can’t speak, the only way to communicate is our body language — so I turn around, and I’m sorry I did, because I forget for a second what I was even trying to say to him.
Then he opens the door, and I hold my breath.
He lets the door fall open. He waves for me to walk across the hall. I tiptoe and jump into his room around the corner.
“Thank God,” Rowan says from the top of the stairs. I let myself slip into Percy’s closet.
“All yours,” Percy says.
“You’re cleaning the kitchen today.”
Percy must give him a nod because the bedroom door shuts and the lock clicks. Percy walks to the closet with a smirk on his face when he sees me in his clothes.
I inhale, trying hard not to look at his body. He puts a finger to his mouth and grabs a shirt off the hanger right next to me. He puts a shirt on, and I can finally concentrate on the real issue.
“That was close,” I mouth.
He nods.
“How am I going to leave?”
He shrugs.
I grab his shoulder and whisper in his ear, “Nobody leaves on Sunday?”
He shakes his head, looking deep into my eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers. He leans in to say something else to my ear. “I need to clean the kitchen and the living room. I’ll smuggle up food for you.”
I nod as he pulls back, a smile playing on my lips.
“There’s water on the desk.”
And then he’s gone, easing the door shut behind him.
The stairs give under him, and thirty seconds later, there’s the low sound of his voice below me, and another voice over it, and a laugh.
I can’t make out a word of any of it. I sit in the middle of a bed in a house I’ve spent a year and a half never going near, in a room I’m not allowed to be in, and listen to the muffled sound of the boys of Hawthorne, who apparently act more like a family than teammates.
I pull my knees up. Then I get my phone out, because there’s nothing else to do, and I scroll.
After an hour, I sit up and look at the desk where Percy said there was water.
I see his flask, but nothing else. I glance down at the floor, wondering if I stand up to grab it, if my weight will shift the boards.
The sound will blow this entire cover. I stare at the flask for a few minutes, and then I attempt to grab it while kneeling at the edge of the bed.
I reach the chair, but I have to carefully shift my weight or the chair will tip over.
The flask is right out of reach, so I huff, sitting on my heels.
I let my foot press down on the floor, and then I reach for the flask.
I sigh of relief when I’m back on the bed with it.
I take a long sip. The water is still cold.
I drink it while I sit back and continue to scroll.
The voices hum through the floor, and I can smell the oil from sizzling bacon. But I can’t ever make out who’s saying what, so I put Love Island on my phone with the sound off and the captions on, because it’s Gianna’s favorite show and I’ve got nothing but time.
Percy comes back into the room in the middle of episode two. My heart swoops when the door opens. His eyes find mine, and he’s holding something, but I don’t notice because he looks well-rested.
He closes the door and whispers, “It’s cold. I’m sorry.”
I look at his hand. He’s got a plate of food. He sets it down right in front of me without a word — eggs, bacon, and toast.
“How?” I mouth.
He almost smiles.
I tilt my head, chest warm. I mouth, “Thank you.”
He nods.
I scoot the head of the bed with the plate. I pat the spot next to me. He takes a seat and looks at my phone. The TV show is on pause.
I bite a piece of bacon. It’s so good. I don’t normally eat bacon. I pick up the second piece and pass it to him.
He shakes his head, but I insist until he takes it. When he takes a bite, he watches me. Once the bacon is gone, I rip the toast into two pieces and offer it to him.
I smile when he tries to refuse. Then he takes it after a moment. We eat the toast, watching each other.
I lean in and whisper, “What do they think you’re doing up here?”
He whispers back, “I told them I have homework.”
I nod. “When can I leave?”
He shrugs, taking the last bite of the toast. Then he stands up and shuffles around his desk. Two minutes later, there’s music coming from his laptop.
Then I start on the eggs. They’re salted perfectly.
Percy walks back with a pencil and a notebook. He flips to a page in the back. I look at him drop it in front of me.
“Draw?” he mouths.
I shake my head.
He sits and scribbles on the top of the page.
Draw something.
I pull the notebook back and write under it.
I don’t draw anymore.
He takes the notebook back and stares at my sentence for a moment, and then he looks up at me. His brow is pulled, and his lip twitches. He writes something and hands it back.
Why?
I swallow, taking the pencil from his fingers.
I don’t know.
He stares at that too, and then he nods.
I reach for the notebook, so he hands it back to me.
Do you have homework?
He lifts a hand and shakes it a little.
I write: Will they think it’s weird if you’re in here all day?
He looks down at the notebook and shakes his head. He takes the notebook and pencil.
Will you be okay here?
When I take it, I stare at the sentence for a long moment. Then I look at him and nod. His eyes linger on mine for a moment, so I smile at him.
We spend the afternoon switching off on music taste.
He plays me a song, and then I play him one.
He’s playing songs I’ve never heard before.
Songs by Creed, Staind, Seether, and 3 Doors Down.
And I play him songs from Sabrina Carpenter, Taylor Swift, and Morgan Wallen.
He doesn’t say a word about my songs, and I don’t say anything about his.
In the middle of listening to All Too Well by Taylor Swift, the knob on his door twists. I almost jump out of my skin, but thankfully it’s locked.
“Are you serious, Mon Petit Percy?”
I look at Percy and smile.
“Taylor Swift? You’re never living this down, Deveroux.”
He rubs his forehead.
I hear Stanley’s mouth hover through the crack of the door.
He sings with the chorus, “I remember it all too well.” He cackles at himself, and I cover my mouth.
Stanley shouts, “I knew you were a big sap! Stop doing homework with your locked door like a freak. We’re watching the game downstairs, and you could take some notes. ”
Percy doesn’t respond. The song fills the awkward tension.
Stanley laughs, slapping the door. I jump at the sound as he bangs it again. “Mon Petit Percy, you are something else, man.”
I hear his footsteps down the hall and then down the stairs.
Percy and I lock eyes. “Sorry.”
His face slowly pulls into a grin. My heart thumps as I watch it meet his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile, and if I have, I haven’t like this.
I smile back at him.