Page 83 of Go Luck Yourself
“Can I guess?” he presses.
I nod, sure, go for it—
“Did you finally realize that all that hatred you felt for Loch was actually you wanting to bang him?”
The look I give Coal’s face on my phone is every building ounce of shock that’s been welling from the moment I touched Loch’s hand in the car. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew. No one hates someone forbreathinglike that unless they’re trying really, really hard not to be turned on by them.”
My moan gets mangled in a laugh.
Coal’s face settles, patient. “Are you okay?”
“I’m drunk.” I chuckle, and a dam breaks. “I fell down a hill because he laughed. Oh, I met his uncle, the St. Patrick’s Day King—he’smassivelyfucking over Loch in a way that would make Dad proud. And then.” I choke, throat swelling in sharp response to the sting in my eyes. “Loch kissed me in the kitchen.”
“And—you’re not happy about that?” Coal’s voice is cautious, trying to feel me out.
“No.I shouldn’t have let him do that. Coal, he could bestealing from us.I’ve been fucking up this entire investigation from the start, all because of, what?Him?What kind of asshole does something like that? I came here for a reason, and this wasnotthat reason. I’m so sorry, I—”
“Kristopher—”
“You guessed it had happened though—you knew. What else do you know?” I cling to my phone, willing Coal to spill all my own secrets out at me. “Why did you know I’d fail at this? What do you know that you aren’t telling me? Who am I? Oh, fuck, that’s a pathetic question. Oh my god. Oh mygod.”
It’s too hot in here and I’m in this stuffy blue sweater still and suddenly I’m on my feet, tearing open the door, lurching sightlessly into the dark hallway.
The air is immediately colder and that helps but it isn’t enough.
“Kris—hey.” Coal moves, too, stands and jogs down his own hallway. “Hang on. I can come to you. I should’ve done that to begin with—why do I never go toinstantaneous transportation magicbefore literally any other solution? Let me—”
“No, no, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
I twist down the staircase and barrel forward, into the library. “I’m fine.”
“Kris. You’re having a panic attack.”
“I do not have panic attacks.”
The library is black, the moon and stars outside muted by clouds, and I drop to the floor and spread out on my back between a few shelves of books.
It’sfrigidin here.
The cold, cold air demands my heart slow down, freezing my lungs solid so I stop gasping and can take actual breaths. My limbs are a little numb, but the sting of the cold works sensation back into them too.
Coal’s in his room now. A light pops on, and he says something muffled to Hex. A door opens, shuts, and Coal sits on his bed and I stare up at him, phone held over my face.
My eyes are wet.
“Kris,” he starts. I think his eyes are wet, too, but why? I’m fine. He’s fine. This isfine.“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize—”
“Shut up. If you don’t want me to come kick your ass in person, thenshut up and listen.Okay?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry I’m part of the reason you feel like you don’t know who you are,” he says. “But—”
