Chapter 19
I’m touching my mouth dreamily as I unlock my dorm room this morning, my lips still warm with the memory of Hayden’s goodbye kiss.
I fell asleep on his couch last night, lulled by the heat of the fire and Hayden’s arms wrapped around me, my head tucked into the crook of his neck. It was precisely the way I’d wanted to be held my entire life.
As I drifted off, he tenderly pressed a finger to each one of my freckles, as if relishing in his reunion with the constellations on my skin he’d memorized lifetimes ago.
He could rip this house from its foundation, I thought, but he’s being so gentle with me right now that if I were a bubble, I wouldn’t pop.
I woke up this morning to Hayden watching me, elbow propped on the back of the sofa, his cheek leaning on his palm, his expression dark and unreadable.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured as soon as I blinked my eyes open, just like out of a movie, and I’d covered my face, overwhelmed, thinking, Even in the most romantic movies, no girl is this lucky.
I know that technically nothing’s been solved.
There’s still a looming doomsday countdown to my nineteenth birthday.
We’ve still got no true idea how to prevent my death.
But being with Hayden last night slotted a lot of puzzle pieces into the gaps of my life.
Even if we don’t quite know how to solve anything yet, at least we’ll go through it together.
I nudge open the door, wondering if Delia’s inside. My field of vision is suddenly filled with long, silvery hair and huge espresso eyes.
“Well, well, well!” Delia’s so excited, she’s teleporting around me as I walk into the room, rustling my messy hair with the soft puffs of her vampiric whooshes. “You guys kiss and make up? Fuck and make up?”
“Oh my god, go easy on me.” I laugh, rubbing my eyes shyly. “This is my first time ever having, like, a…” Boyfriend? Vampfriend? Soulfriend?
Soulmate?
I shake my head. “We just kissed. Like, it was a lot, we kissed a lot, and we were pressed against each other and stuff…” I sigh dreamily and flop onto my bed, accidentally dropping my bag to the floor, not even caring that the contents spill.
I try to think of how to explain the rightness of finally being with Hayden.
“It was like…it felt like something inside me finally slid into place.”
“So, like second base, then?” Delia says dryly, folding her arms. I shoot her a withering look, and she huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m kidding. I get it. All you did last night was kiss.”
“But it felt like so much more.”
Something flickers across Delia’s face, and her smile falls into something smaller, more internal.
“Good,” she says. She glances down at where my phone is spilled on the floor, and she winces. “You, uh…you let Picasso know about Hayden yet?”
Shit. I totally forgot about Julian. “No,” I groan, clapping my hands over my face. “I’m literally the worst person on the planet.”
Delia chuckles, cleaning the spilled mess of my bag. “If only that were true.”
“I got so caught up with Hayden…God. Julian was so sweet to me. We kissed and…He doesn’t deserve this.
I have to go break it off with him. Like, right now.
” I collapse back onto the mattress, the guilt and dread making me curl in on my stomach.
“I can’t imagine a more awkward conversation.
I’ve just, like, not replied at all. I feel so terrible.
” Delia sighs, setting my repacked bag on the mattress beside me and holding out her hand. I take it, and she pulls me to my feet.
“It’s gonna blow,” she says sympathetically. “But it’s a kindness. Go put him out of his misery.”
—
Julian’s office door is closed, and I don’t see any light peeking from beneath the crack under the door. I’m about to just call him when I hear a loud, wet cough from inside, punctuated by a few sniffs.
Great. I have to do this to him while he’s sick? I shake my hands and take a breath. Nothing is going to make this any less awful and uncomfortable. Literally the longer I stand here, the worse my stomach hurts, so I force myself to give the door three short raps.
“Enter.” The voice is rough and curt. Is that really Julian? I ease open the door and peek inside.
The office is small and cluttered, barely big enough for the two desks pushed up against the opposing walls inside. Julian’s sitting at one of the desks, hunched over a stack of papers, his forehead propped in his palm. His eyes are glassy and vacant, and it doesn’t seem like he’s actually reading.
Julian’s got a tiny desk lamp on, but the shades are drawn on the single, small window. He doesn’t look up when I step inside or when I clear my throat. I close my eyes, wishing desperately that I could just leave and Julian could forget everything that ever happened between us.
But of course, no such luck.
“Hi, Julian.” I plaster on the kindest-feeling smile I can muster.
Julian’s eyes snap to me, and I almost recoil at the sight of him.
His gaze is dull and bloodshot, and the dark purple circles beneath his eyes look like bruises.
His skin reminds me of the clammy, pale underbelly of a cave-dwelling amphibian.
Jesus. He looks awful. I clear my throat.
Julian just keeps staring at me, unsmiling.
I twist my fingers together, currently feeling kind of sweaty and clammy myself. “Um…are you feeling alright?”
“You’d know if you’d answered my texts, wouldn’t you?
” he snaps. I recoil, and he deflates, sighing and leaning back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Sorry, Rose.” His voice is softer, a little more like the Julian I know.
“Truth is, I’ve not felt this rubbish in a long time.
Went out with some art friends last night.
Word to the wise: Do not mix platters of raw oysters and J?germeister.
” He turns an unpleasant shade of green, and for a moment I worry he’s about to be sick.
But he sucks in a few breaths, and the nauseous moment seems to pass.
“God. Can’t even cancel classes because midterm reviews are coming up and I desperately want Professor Brown to take me on as his research assistant.
He only picks two every couple years, so… ”
Gingerly, I perch at the edge of the wooden seat in front of his desk. Julian grabs a bottle of water, takes a few small sips, and musters a wan smile for me.
“At least you’re here,” he says. “Definitely could use that face of yours to cheer me up today.” My guilt must show, because any hint of a smile vanishes from Julian’s face immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he says. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, trying and failing to meet his eyes. I look down at my lap.
“I shouldn’t have ignored you. I should have texted you back. But the reason I didn’t was because I have feelings for someone else. I didn’t think he liked me back, and that’s why I went on a date with you, and don’t get me wrong, I had a lovely time, any girl would be lucky—”
“Save it.” Julian’s voice is cold and deadly quiet.
I snap my mouth shut and peer up at him, hating how meek I’m feeling.
His face is stony, absent of any hint of his typical charm or levity.
“I don’t need a pity speech from you.” He scoffs, eyeing me with a disdain he’s never displayed before.
I keep my chin up, hoping he can’t see how his words meet their mark.
He’s just very sick and hurt, I think.
“I really am sorry,” I say stiffly.
“Sure,” he says, as if already bored. “That’s fine, Rose. Have fun with your new whatever.” Julian pushes himself up. He gives me one last look, a leering glint in his gaze. “Hope you show them as much of a good time as you showed me.”
Wow. Turns out, Rejected Julian is a huge prick. I’m actually thinking of saying so when his eyes go wide, and that green sheen returns to his face. He shoves past me and out of the office. I peek my head down the hall to watch him sprint toward the men’s restroom.
You know what? Serves him right.
Feeling gross and terrible, I exit the arts building, the sharp, gray, cold day bracing and clear.
I cast it a sad glance, remembering how beautiful it looked on that very first day of class.
Now the idea of going to painting class makes me feel like throwing up.
Rubbing my arm, I survey the parking lot.
Would he have been such a jerk if he wasn’t sick?
I shake my head hard. No, that’s no excuse.
When I was in high school, I had the worst flu of my life, and when my mom barged into my room, flipped on the blinding overhead lights, and forced me to drink a medicine that tasted like liquid hospital smell, I still said please.
“Please don’t make me drink that,” I said.
When she said I had no choice, I did it and then pulled the covers over my head.
And if I were going to yell at anyone, it would have been my mom. Being horribly ill doesn’t make you a dick. It just makes it harder to hide when you are one. Well. At least it’s over and done with.
I make my way along the parking lot sidewalk, wishing I were back with Hayden. A soft breeze swirls me with a cinnamon-smoke smell, and I’m sure it’s wishful thinking until I’m suddenly surrounded by strong, perfect arms.
“Let me talk to him.” Hayden’s dark voice curls in my ear. I shiver at the threat lacing his voice. “I’ll show him a good time.” I feel a jolt when I realize he repeated Julian’s words. I pull back, gazing up at him in disbelief.
“You heard us from all the way out here?” I ask. “How good is your hearing?”
Hayden ducks his eyes, looking slightly embarrassed. “It’s decent. Better when I’m straining for specific tones.”
“Hayden.” I draw out the vowels. “Were you eavesdropping? You can’t…
” I reach out and rub one of the small black buttons on his shirt.
“Don’t do that.” His lip curls, and, ugh, it’s so annoying how he manages to look like a movie star even when he’s annoyed.
Hayden sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I just got so furious when I heard him. I’m here because I have a surprise for you, and Delia mentioned where you’d gone.
She told me about your date, how you two…
” He grimaces. “I wanted to make sure things went okay.” He clenches his fists.
“The things he said to you. The fact he even got to touch you at all…The fact he touched you before I got to, that anyone gets to…” When Hayden allows me a peek into his eyes, I see a deep well of pain that shreds my heart.
Immediately, I throw my arms around him, burying my face into his chest.
“Not in any way that matters,” I whisper fiercely. “Not in any way that counts. It’s just you, Hayden. Just you.”
“Still.” His chest rumbles against my cheek, a single, unhappy syllable, but his body relaxes and he threads his hands in my hair, kisses the top of my head.
“What’s this about a surprise?”
A slow smile spreads across Hayden’s face. His eyes don’t leave my face as he digs out a key fob from his pocket and clicks a button. I startle when a sleek black car parked two spaces away flashes its lights with a couple of blithe chirps.
“Taking you on a trip.” He swoops down, gently nips my bottom lip.
“Trip?” I say, a little breathless. Hayden grabs my hand, pulling me to his car. “A trip to where?”
He shoots me a look over his shoulder.
“Down memory lane,” he says. “Yours and mine. I’m taking you to where I first saw you, to your hometown.”
“You’re flying us to California?” I snort.
Hayden’s wry amusement softens into something else. “No,” he says. “I’m talking about the very first time I saw you. The original you.”