Page 106 of Riot Act
“Itsmellsamazing,” Elodie adds. I’m so grateful to them for showing up and supporting my dad that I could weep. But that doesn’t stop me from glancing back at the door again, asking as casually as possible, “Will this table be big enough or…?”
“He’s not coming,” Dash groans, sitting himself down. “He’s at home, sulking. I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but I hope you sort it out soon. He’s makingourlives miserable, slamming around the house like a fucking child.”
“What are you talking about? Everything’s fine.” I laugh a little, trying to brush off the comment, but I know Dash is right. Pax is pissed with me over something. I just don’t know what. He sits as stiff as a board in Econ and English, stabbing the tip of his pen into his notepad, staring off into space. No hostile quips. No threats. No dirty sidelong looks. No curled lips or angry comments. No friendship bracelets around his wrist anymore.
The knowledge that he cut them off hurts. And the fact that he’s cuttingmeoff hurts, too. Being the subject of Pax’s attention was a heady and terrifying thing. Being ignored by him is fucking soul destroying.
At around eight thirty, Dad pulls me aside, rubbing at his brow. “I wanted this to be a surprise, but Jonah was supposed to be here tonight. I bought him a plane ticket and everything. He was meant to show up six hours ago, and he isn’t answering his phone. You haven’t heard from him, have you?”
My blood freezes. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. Jonah’s supposed to be here. There’s a chance that he’s going to show up and walk through the doors to the restaurant any second? I’m a fool for thinking Dad wouldn’t want his son here for his grand restaurant opening, but the idea of Jonah showing up for this never really occurred to me. I can’t handle Jonah being here. I fucking can’t.
I live in a state of high anxiety, my head reeling as I rush around the restaurant, trying to pretend that I’m okay, but I’m not. I haven’t had Pax to distract me from my monsters for nearly two weeks. I thought I’d be okay, I really did. But without Pax to chase away the memories, they’ve been pressing in close of late. It’s getting harder and harder to imagine that I’m going to be okay when I leave Mountain Lakes. The lie I’ve been telling myself is getting harder and harder to believe.
The night eventually comes to an end, the final party of guests leaving the restaurant well after midnight. Dad’s so exhausted and concerned over the fact that Jonah still hasn’t shown up that he doesn’t put up a fight when I tell him I want to go and sleep in my bed at the academy rather than at the house, like I was supposed to. It’s Monday tomorrow and I have to be in class first thing, so he lets me drive myself back up the mountain.
My anxiety doesn’t quit when I let myself into my bedroom, though. I barely sleep. It’s still there, choking me in the morning when I hurry into Jarvis’ AP English class, and only heightens when I see Pax’s empty chair at the desk we share.
I need to see him.
I need to talk to him.
I just…I fuckingneedhim. I can’t take this anymore.
“Is everything okay, Presley?” Jarvis asks when she sees my face. “You’re looking very pale. Are you having a panic attack?” Ever since my father told her about my supposed suicide attempt, her constant scrutiny has been unbearable.
I brush off her questions, shaking my head. “Where’s Pax?”
“Oh. He had to go to New York last night apparently. Some sort of family emergency.” Jarvis doesn’t seem all that concerned about what she’s just told me, but does she know about Pax’s mom’s health issues? No. I doubt Pax told any of the academy faculty that he donated bone marrow to his sick mother. If he’s had to rush back home for some kind of emergency, then something must have happened. His mom must have taken a turn for the worse.
I can think of nothing else as the English class ticks by impossibly slowly.
By the time the bell goes, signaling the end to my torture, I’ve made up my mind.
I don’t care if Pax is mad at me. I don’t care if he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.
I’m going to New York.
I’m going to go there, and I’m going to make sure he’s okay.
“What are you talking about? I fucking love road trips.” Wren stuffs the duffel bag into the trunk of the car. “Plus, he left in the middle of the night and he didn’t say a word about leaving. He knows how much I love visiting the city. I’m looking forward to seeing Meredith, too.”
I asked Elodie to get an address out of Wren—one where I might find Pax. She showed up at my room an hour later and informed me that Wren was going to drive all three of us into the city himself, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Now that I’m standing in front of Riot House with my overnight bag at my feet, I can see that she’s right; he’s adamant that he’s coming. He picks up my bag and throws it into the trunk, too.
“Don’t say anything to Dash or Carrie, though. I can’t handle chauffeuring five people around in one car. It’s not fucking happening.”
We get on the road just after three.
At six, Wren smirks, quickly reading a message that’s come through on his phone. “He’s fine. Meredith’s fine. He has a photo shoot with some high-profile photographer. Ohhh, Ralph Lauren? Fancy. He just said there was an emergency so he could disappear for a couple of days.”
My heart sinks a little in my chest. I’ve sent Pax a total of four text messages since this morning, asking if he’s all right, and he hasn’t replied to a single one of them. I should have known he’d reply to Wren, him being one of his best friends and all, but it still stings a little. “Oh. Glad he got back to you at last,” I mutter.
“Pssh. Please. Like that boy ever replies to texts when he’s in a bad mood. His mom just told me that she’s fine herself. And I just got into his email. There’s a calendar reminder for a Ralph Lauren shoot this afternoon and tomorrow morning.”
“You hacked his email?” Elodie doesn’t look surprised but I sure as hell am. “How?”
Wren briefly looks at me in the rearview mirror. “I have my ways.” I’m so used to the fact that Elodie is dating him now, that I seem to have forgotten that he is still Wren Jacobi, the dark lord of Riot House. He still exists in a morally grey world, where breaking into your friends’ email accounts is a totally acceptable thing to do.
Christ. If he’s okay with invading the privacy of one of his best friends…what if he’s hacked my email account? There are messages from my doctors in there. Therapy appointments. Links to all kinds of suicide prevention support groups, and…
