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You’re pregnant. I spit out my water. Just like that. One word. Enceinte. And my cover is blown. Fucking fuck. They both turn their heads to look at me. For fuck’s sake—my brother gapes like I’ve grown horns, and Lily might as well be catching flies with her mouth. Connor’s eyes continue to darken, his expression so rare that my neck starts to heat uncomfortably.
“Why are you fucking looking at me like that?” I ask defensively, backtracking. My efforts are useless. It’s Connor Cobalt. If my brother figured out that I understood their conversation, then he definitely has.
He keeps shaking his head like he can’t believe this. Maybe he’s upset that he got something wrong. That he misread me. That I’ve been fucking overhearing his dia...
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My muscles harden, and Daisy puts her hand on my leg underneath the table in comfort. I lace her fingers with mine and then nod at Connor. “You should be less focused on me and more fucking concerned about your pregnant w...
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Don’t look at me like that. They glance at me with agitation, realizing I understand them now.
Daisy ends up resting her head against my arm. I comb my fingers through her hair.
Rose points at me at this. Fuck. “You better be wearing a condom with her.” My face hardens. I already told her I’d be safe with Daisy. They all need to chill the fuck out. “That’s none of your fucking business, Rose.”
I add to the whole table, “Je serais génial, mais je sais ce qui me fait toujours obstacle.” I would be great, but I know what still stands in my way.
I’m interviewing the best plastic surgeons in the city. You’ll be okay. – Mom
Connor’s tweet set everyone straight. @ConnorCobalt: Daisy is fine. Her scar is from the Paris Rugby riot. Thanks for all the well wishes.
Then she pulls away and presses a sticker on his shirt. “It’s Spider-Man. For good luck.” “Thanks, Lily.” I can’t see his smile this time, just his back. But I’m sure he’s smiling because Lily’s eyes are flooded with emotion.
“I’ll hug you when you come back down,” Rose tells him in her clipped voice. “It’ll give you something to look forward to.”
Ryke nods again. “Thanks guys. For being here. See you on the other side.” He starts walking back, and I think he’s going to stop in front of me, for a private moment. But he just keeps on hiking towards the rock face. I don’t think twice. I sprint after him, taking off. No one calls me back to the tables. No one reprimands me for following a boy much older than me. No one says to stop.
Ryke’s dark features brighten as soon as he sees me. His lips rise far beyond an almost-smile. He notices the flower crown still in my clutch, and he steals it from my hand. I watch as he sets it atop my blonde locks, some strands painted with color. “I was waiting for the sun to chase me,” he breathes, drawing me to his chest. In one swift movement, my lips are on his. The world is spinning. He kisses me like this is the moment he’s envisioned all his life. Like this is heaven on Earth.
“I fucking love you.” I smile, my lips tingling. “Guess what?” “What?” “I love you more than chocolate cake.”
Then he flips off the cameras, the click click click in the background like buzzing insects.
Connor may hate Confucius but there’s something he said that I never challenge. “It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”
“The pictures online are insane. Those photographers caught some awesome shots of you
I did it. I free-solo climbed the Yosemite Triple Crown. 19 hours. A goal for me. Not for anyone else.
“Please, please invite me to the wedding.” I picture his smile reaching the ends of his scraggily red hair. I roll my eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” “I just want you to know that I called it. I’m like a relationship whisperer.”
A friend from college texted me the photo, which landed on the cover of Time magazine. It’s famous because they’re pairing it with the Paris riot, even though it was taken awhile after that. But after the press learned that’s how she got hurt, Daisy’s scar has become a symbol of what happened that night. People like to hold onto the good in the wake of the bad.
Daisy puts the phone to her ear. “Hey, Sully.” She smiles wider. “I did massage his ass, thanks for asking.” I snatch the phone back from her, and Sully is cracking up laughing on the other end. “Please have children,” he tells me, not able to stop cackling. “I have to see if they’d be as fun as her or as moody as you.”
“I fucking streaked around my summer camp at night,” I tell her. She laughs. “No way. I did the same thing when I was fourteen.” She gasps. “It’s like we were always meant to be.”
If we are supposed to be together, then why does going home seem like returning to a black fucking storm?
Lo passes us and whispers, so as not to wake Lily, “Hey, you two, your PDA is scaring the little children.” “You mean you?” I retort, following him close behind as he heads down the stairs to outside. “I mea...
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And right behind Jonathan, another man descends the stairs, tall and confident and entitled. It’s my father’s best friend, his hair lighter brown, in his fifties, a less hard and severe face than my dad’s.
It’s Daisy’s father. My stomach sinks. Fuck me. I’ve never seen Greg Calloway do anything other than smile and shake hands, but worry blankets his face, looking more paternal and more protective than I’ve known him to be. It’s the look that Connor says he wears frequently. I just haven’t been around him long enough to see it.
