Page 69 of Wristlocked
“How ’bout you, Shadow?” I ask. “Still set on going home?”
“Oh, you know I’ll be around to see Jo, but yeah, thinking I’ll give the parents another chance this year.”
“You really think your mom was different after the showcase, huh?”
“Weird, I know. But she wasn’t totally horrible. Plus, if I play nice, maybe they’ll let me bring the Acura back after break, and we can have a car.”
“So. Last night in the dorm for a while?” I give Gia’s feet a squeeze and raise an eyebrow. She wiggles her toes in my lap, but Gale turns away, dropping his head back on the couch.
Jamie looks up from his cards. “Thought you said you had sugar mama duty tonight, bro?”
Gia sits up in a flash, curling around to face Gale.
“Tonight?” Her voice is low and hurt. He runs a hand over his head, not looking at her.
“She has a thing about the last night of any term. A tradition.” His face twists on the word. “I’ve been blowing her off as much as possible for months, but if I want to come back in January…” He trails off. Hope nudges Jamie.
“Let’s take this up to my room,” she whispers, shooting Gale an apologetic glance, which he ignores. Gia continues to stare at him.
“Were you even gonna tell us? Or just bail?” she asks.
“Does it make a difference?”
“If you’d given us a heads-up,” I start, but Gia interrupts me, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her eyes.
“Please don’t go,” she begs, and a shuddering breath escapes him.
“Would you still want me if it didn’t hurt?” His voice is a low whisper, pained and bitter.
“It doesn’t need to hurt likethis.”
“You don’t always get to decide how it hurts.”
“No.” She studies him. “You’re the one who decides.”
A whole world hangs between them, and for the first time in weeks, I’m on the outside again, afraid to breathe. Finally, he drops his forehead to hers.
“Okay.” His chest rattles with another shaky breath. “I’ll tell her. But I can’t—I have to do it face-to-face.”
“But then you’ll come back? Tonight?”
“Yes.”
She kisses him then, lingering and raw, like she’s imprinting the memory of her lips on his. When she lets him go, he stands to leave and shoots me a look I can’t read. Maybe a warning. Maybe an apology.He’s not doing it for me.
Gia takes me to her room, and I don’t ask if she believes him. She leaves her door unlocked and lets me distract her with the simple things we’ve always done. I braid her hair and read her a chapter ofThe Ninth House, then scratch her back with featherlight passes of my nails under her shirt until she falls asleep with her phone clutched in her hand.
But it’s not Gale who wakes us up.
It’s Hope.
34
Lyot
She’s waiting for us outside her room when we step off the elevator on the eighth floor, looking frightened and even more fragile than usual.
“I don’t know what happened,” she says, glancing toward Gale’s door. A crash and the sound of cursing drift toward us. Gia starts to move in that direction, but I grab her arm.
