Chapter 21
twenty-one
A sharp tap against the glass broke through the quiet.
I frowned, lifting my head, wiping the last of my tears from the fight with Lavender.
The sound came again—tap, tap—followed by the faint skitter of something sliding down the window.
My stomach tightened as I glanced toward the balcony doors.
The curtains were half drawn, the darkness beyond them thick and unreadable.
Another sound followed, this one unmistakable. A small click as something struck the glass, then a dull bounce against the railing outside.
Pebbles.
I stood slowly, every instinct on high alert as I crossed the room. No one ever came onto the balcony this late—especially not like this. I pulled the curtain back just enough to peer through the glass, my breath catching as a shadow shifted on the other side.
At first, all I could make out was a vague shape, a figure standing just beyond the light spilling from my room. Then he leaned forward, and the glow caught on sharp features and a familiar, infuriatingly calm expression.
My heart stuttered.
I jumped up and opened the glass doors, openly gawking as Cole stood on the other side.
Cole Mercer was standing on my balcony.
And looking way too casual about it.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I hoped he didn’t notice the way my voice went up about five octaves over the course of the sentence.
He pulled his hand from his jacket pocket and lifted up the Apple Pencil we had fought over just yesterday afternoon. “You forgot this at The Corner Cup.”
“I did?” I stepped forward and snatched it out of his hand, inspecting it like my name might appear to prove I had actually left it behind.
“Well, I may have made sure you forgot it—”
“So you stole it,” I interrupted.
“As an excuse to come here and give it back to you.” He rocked back on his heels, a smirk pulling at his lips. I found a smile on my own lips as I stared at him. Then I shook my head, looking behind him at our front yard, the quiet street, the streetlights dotting the sidewalk.
“How did you get up here?” I asked, dragging my gaze back to him.
“I climbed,” he said, as if that was obvious. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the tree in the yard. One of the branches just about reached the balcony, but I wouldn’t exactly consider it a safe way to get up. Especially not when he could have just used the front door.
I reached out a hand and shoved his shoulder, but he barely even budged. “You could have broken your neck!” I snapped. He shrugged as if that didn’t matter in the slightest. I shook my head and stepped out onto the balcony with him, crossing my arms as I felt the chill in the air.
He shrugged, slow and careless. “Wouldn’t be the dumbest way I’ve almost died.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I wasn’t aiming for comforting.” His eyes flicked over me, quick and unapologetic. “I was aiming to get your attention.”
“Well, congrats,” I said. “You have it. Now explain why you’re trespassing on my balcony like some kind of criminal.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “You say that like I don’t trespass places all the time.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“Yet,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping a little closer, “you opened the door.”
“That was so you wouldn’t fall to your death,” I shot back. “Not an invitation to stay.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” His gaze lingered on me, sharp and knowing, like he could see straight through every excuse I’d ever made about him.
I hugged my arms tighter around myself, suddenly very aware of how close he was. “Alright, well,” I said, forcing some steadiness into my voice, “thank you for returning this to me, I guess.” I held up the pencil.
“You’re welcome.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, then glanced past me into my room—the book I’d barely been able to read, the lamp still on, the unmistakable signs of a night that hadn’t gone the way I’d planned. “I’d been wondering what your room looked like,” he mused.
I looked too, and just like the day that he walked me home, I wondered what my room must look like to him now.
What was the first thing he noticed? The blue and green of my duvet?
The way that my desk was covered in all sorts of studying materials?
The color of my walls, because I’d panicked and chosen light green even though I wasn’t sure that I actually liked it?
I still needed to get back to Mum about those paint samples to change it.
“Did you want to come in?” I asked hesitantly. It seemed wrong to be inviting a boy into my room, especially when nobody else was home. Not that I was thinking anything would happen, of course not. But it still felt intimate.
I guess maybe Cole sensed that because he shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “I’m not staying.”
“Oh,” I mumbled. “Yeah, okay.” I shouldn’t have been upset about that.
In fact, I really wasn’t. I was happy that he wasn’t trying to push me in, but the idea of him leaving so soon after getting here made me surprisingly sad.
I almost wanted him to come in, to poke through the books on my shelf, to ask me about what I’m reading or the color of my walls. Anything to have him stay longer.
A cool winter breeze swept through my hair, and I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I was wearing something warmer.
I was in pajama pants, at least, rather than shorts, but I was wearing a short-sleeve shirt, and it was freezing out because it was December first. As if he had read my mind, suddenly a jacket was being draped across my shoulders.
He adjusted the collar of it, his hands so close I was worried he’d feel my pulse thrumming in my neck.
“You’re shivering,” he said.
“I wasn’t exactly planning on talking to you outside in my pajamas tonight.”
“But aren’t you happy I’m here now?” He grinned.
I didn’t want to admit it out loud to him that I was glad he was here, so instead I just nodded and slipped my arms in the sweater and the logo jacket. I moved to the edge of the balcony to look out at the street, and Cole joined me, leaning against the railing as well.
He looked up and down at the houses. “Do most of the kids here go to Parkhurst?” he asked.
“Pretty big mix, actually. A bunch of people go to Northern, too.” I pointed across the street to Rhys Montgomery’s house.
“And the boy who lives there, he’s Sebastian’s nemesis, but he goes to Crofton.
” Then, realizing he wasn’t from the area, I added, “That’s the other private school.
Parkhurst’s major rival. But it’s pretty far from here.
Or closer to...” I trailed off, but he was still staring at me, so I added, “Closer to where my dad lives.”
He nodded, as if this was a completely normal thing for me to say. For anybody else with divorced parents, I was sure it was. For me, it felt like a cardinal sin, whispering Dad’s name in this house. I’d done it with Ainsley the other day, but neither of us had spoken about it since.
“Tell me about him,” Cole said. “Your dad.”
I blinked, surprised by the question. “What’s there to know?” I asked. “He’s my dad.”
“How long have they been divorced?” he asked.
I was glad that he didn’t ask when Dad had the affair. Divorce made it sound so much easier. Like a normal thing that a normal family would be going through.
“This summer,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know when the divorce was finalized, or if it even is already or not. Mom’s not really talking about it with us, but...” I sighed, dragged my finger along the railing of my balcony. “But that’s when he moved out.”
Cole hummed noncommittally and continued to look around. “Do you like it here?” I asked suddenly. He didn’t look at me.
“It’s a town,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’m aware, believe it or not.”
“So what does it matter if I like it or not? What is there to like or not? It’s a town. A place to live.”
“Yeah, but most people either do or don’t like their towns,” I said. I nudged him with my elbow. “So come on. What are your feelings? Complaints? Issues? I’ll see what I can fix for you.”
“Oh, are you the mayor now?” he asked, a small, teasing lilt in his voice.
“I am,” I told him, “and I take complaints very seriously, so cough ‘em up.”
“Well, first of all... there are far too many potholes on your street.”
I nodded seriously. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else?”
His mouth lifted up in the corner. “Yeah. Can I get an official mayoral pardon? Might be nice if everybody here would stop assuming that I’m a criminal just because I moved here in the middle of October.”
I smiled gently at that. “That might be easier to rebuke if you tell them the real story,” I said, raising a brow.
Then, pretending that I was holding a microphone, I held it out to my mouth.
“So, Cole, Mr. Mercer, you tell us you weren’t in juvie, but then why did you move in the middle of October?
” And then I held my fist out towards him, like I was interviewing him.
He smiled and lifted his hand. For a moment, I thought he was going to push my hand down in the nicest way he could tell me to shut up. Instead, he pulled it towards him once again like he was actually being interviewed.
“Wow, that’s actually a fascinating story,” he said, and he blinked long and slow. “But are you sure you’re ready to hear it?” Then he pushed my fist back to me.
I barely noticed it as I murmured and stared at him. There was a look on his face, one that told me that he thought once I heard this story things would change. Once I knew the truth, he thought my opinion of him would be different. That only made me all the more curious.
“Yes,” I murmured. “I’m sure.”
He studied me for another second, like he was weighing something. Then he leaned back against the railing, hands gripping the cold metal.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “But don’t interrupt.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
His jaw flexed once before he started.