Page 142 of The Bronze Garza
“But it’s—”
“Don’t care. Off.”
Well, okay then. Mouthing a silent, “Sorry Monica,” I shut it down and return it to the cup-holder.
“I miss you,” Torin says without emotion. “And yeah, I came to get you just to drive with you ‘cause when you’re near my mind calms. You want nothing at all from me except to feel good and make me feel good in return. And fuck if that shit isn’t stronger than drugs. So, yeah, we’re just driving. If you’re bored, put on some music, or read one of your ebooks, or even do that annoying chatty thing that you do, ‘cause I’m not letting you out of this vehicle until I’m sufficiently high off you.”
I blink.
Imake his mind calm?How?I’ve never felt like anything but a nuisance to him. Always talking, always wanting a piece of him, always needing to be rescued. Not to mention obliterating his vacation and bringing trouble to his family’s doorstep. How on earth could I be like adrugto him?
Unless he’s a masochist?
But hey, whatever floats his boat.
I lean forward and turn on the radio.
We drivefor a long time, and soon we’re cruising along Mulholland Drive. Then he brakes, reverses to an overlook, and switches off the engine. “Come sit with me?”
We’re the only people here. I wouldn’t have taken him to be the type to chill at an overlook. But I really don’t know him all that well, do I?
In answer, I unbuckle my seatbelt and clamber out.
When he gets out and strides to the back of the pick-up, I follow. He lowers the tailgate and hops up onto the cargo-bed, then offers his hand to help me up.
We sit with our backs against the cabin, his long legs crossed at the ankles, mine crossed yogi style. The glitzy city twinkles stunningly below, but it’s nothing compared to the view at sunrise.
Inexplicably anxious, I tuck my hands under my thighs. This moment feels like either the start of something or the end of something.
“When did the magic die?” he asks after a while.
It didn’t.I lied, you fool. “I’m not sure. During the whole revelation, maybe.”
“Hmm.” He emits a low grunt as he gets out his phone and powers it on. “But you finished your vision board before the revelation.”
One, what does that have to do with anything? And two, how would he know that? “I did, yes.”
He drops his phone onto my lap. “And I’m not on it.”
From his phone screen, a picture of my vision board stares back at me. Bewildered, I pick up the phone and stare at the image. “How did—When did you take this?”
“When you finished it,” he replies simply. “I was always with you, Lyra.” He reaches over and grasps my chin, lifting it so my attention is on him instead of the phone screen. “Why am I not on it?”
“Because…” Irritated, I twist my face out of his grasp and toss the phone onto his lap. “Because you’re not a realistic vision.”
He runs his tongue across his teeth. “And who is for you? There someone else you want? Someone else you’ve got ‘magic’ for now?”
What an absolutely ridiculous question. Two weeks ago, he was in my bedroom fucking me into oblivion. Before that, I was freakinglivingwith him. Ijustgot my freedom back and have spent the last week and a half bonding with my parents.Whenwould I have gotten a chance to meet anyone else? Or is this another one of his weird manipulative tactics.
Biting my tongue, I avert my gaze and decide not to dignify his inane question with an answer.
“You want me?” he prods.
How many times must I tell him this?The word comes out before I can bite it back. “Yes.”
“You love me?”
Yes. “I don’t know.”
