Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

“How do they know when you’re ‘fit’ to go home?” I asked. “I mean, people have gone home since you’ve been here, right?” “One,” he said. “But he got sent back.” The floor creaked, and I tipped my head up, seeing Rory lean against the door frame, watching us as he ate an apple. His gaze moved between Micah and me, something loaded happening behind them. “And I wasn’t unhappy about it,” Micah added, humor in his voice as he looked at the other man. I glanced between them, the vibe making my blood warm. I was pretty sure these two might just be happy staying here for the rest of their lives if they had each other.

All I could feel were the eyes behind the glass on me, and I gripped the sides of the tub, liking it.

The center passed the ball to Michael Crist, and he dribbled it, running the rest of the way down the court, passing it to Damon Torrance. Damon caught it and bounced it up and down on the floor, two girls waving to him to where he stood in the wing. He shot the ball, and it bounced off the rim, spilling over. Will caught it, jumped up, and dunked it, the buzzer blaring through the auditorium as it fell through. I smiled, catching sight of his grin. Everyone was a basketball fan now.

My chin trembled, everything threatening to spill over, and I didn’t know why. Stuff like that had happened before. It was no big deal. It wasn’t like it happened all the time. I could’ve shoved Maisie if I wanted to. Yelled at her, maybe. Definitely bit back a little. This time I just wanted to run. I didn’t want anyone to see me, like I was so embarrassing I wanted to erase myself from people’s memories and cease to exist. Just disappear.

People passed me, quiet and not a snicker to be heard, because Will Grayson had cast his net, letting them all know I was off limits.

The bus filled up, and I waited for the seat next to me to dip, but as the doors closed, the lights dimmed, and the engine started, I remained solo. I chewed the corner of my mouth to hide the tremble. What did I care? What did it matter that I’d been humiliated again? What did it matter that he saw that in the gym? The tears welled. He saw me. He saw that happen to me. He saw what the whole world thought of me, and now he… Now he… A hand slipped under mine, warm and smooth, and I snapped my head left, seeing Will in the seat next to me. What…? A lump filled my throat as I gaped at the side of his face, wanting to be raging mad that he was there and touching me again without my permission, but… He curled his fingers, gripping me, and…and it took a moment to get a hold of myself.

He wouldn’t let go. Or look at me. He just tossed his black hoodie over our hands and chatted to the guy in the next seat like I wasn’t here. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the music from my earbuds, and I had to force my breathing to slow down. I closed my eyes and turned toward the window. Why was he doing this? And why was I just sitting here? The warmth from his strong fingers seeped into mine as he held me, and I looked over at him again, seeing him slouched in the seat, long legs stretched into the aisle as the players, cheerleaders, and band carried on around us.

“Let me take you home,” he typed again. I clenched my teeth and turned my eyes out the window. I tried to pull my hand away once more, but he grasped it, forcing it instead onto my thigh, his fingers grazing my skin there. A bolt of lightning shot through me, but instead of being angry, butterflies swarmed in my stomach and I squeezed my eyes shut. Leaving him there. My phone beeped, and it took a moment to look at it. “I want to hold you like that,” it said. I glanced up at Miller and Desi again, his arms wrapped around her, and I pictured myself in Will’s lap, parked off some dark road in the rain, and it took everything I had not to look at him, because if I did, he’d know… He would know that I didn’t always hate him. A sliver of my brain was starting to believe there was more to him.

I turned up the volume on my music again, drowning out any other sounds and tapped my thumbs, typing out a message. “Take her home. She’ll drool all over your dumb haircut and extensive knowledge of micro-brews and penis jokes.” I mean, he was a jock. I felt him shake with a laugh next to me. He typed, letters flashing on his screen. “I take you home, or I take you in my lap right here. Decide.” I ground my teeth together. Everyone would see that. If my brother heard about it, I’d… Jesus.

I stared out the window, seeing the village breeze past, the twinkle lights of the park, and my neighborhood before we got up into the cliffs where Will and the wealthy resided. Part of me wanted it. Part of me loved how good his attention felt, because he was cocky and confident and good-looking and smooth. He was popular, looked great in everything he wore, and I liked his smile. He was untouchable, and he wanted to touch me. Tonight, anyway.

“When the bus stops, get in my fucking truck.” I breathed out a bitter laugh. Aw, someone’s lost his temper. “Why?” I asked. And the next thing I know, the bus stopped, he yanked the earbuds out of my ears, and I sucked in a breath as he leaned into my face. “Because you’re mine,” he growled in a whisper.

My heart hammered. What the— Seriously. Because you’re mine. I ignored the flutter in my chest as I grabbed my bag and fumbled for my dangling earbuds. I mean, for Christ’s sake. What was his deal? Was I on some scavenger hunt he was doing or something? Nail the Nerd? I rose with everyone else and stepped into the aisle, getting ready to leave the bus. I’m not yours, Will Grayson. And I’ll walk, thanks.

“Wait,” I bit out. She spun around, smiling ear to ear. I joined her again, and we both walked over to Will’s truck, still parked. “You’re sitting up front,” she told me. “My house is first.” Huh—? But she shoved me at the door of the huge, black Ford Raptor and pulled open the back door, climbing into the truck before I could utter an argument. Seriously? I yanked open the door and stepped up into the truck, ignoring Will’s eyes as I plopped my ass down and slammed the door. But just then, the back door opened again, and I shot a glance over my shoulder, watching Elle quickly exit the truck again and close the door. “What are you…?” She walked past my window, swinging around and moving backward as she winked at me. “Have a safe ride!” she sing-songed, doing a taunting little wave. What the…? I stopped breathing as realization dawned. This was a trick. Dammit. The locks clicked, the parking lot still swarmed with people, and I was officially done for the day, shaking my head as I watched her disappear into the crowd. “That’s what I get for trying to make a friend,” I grumbled. I pulled my seatbelt on, glaring over at Will as a smile curled his lips and he started the engine.

Sneaking a glance, I watched his long fingers drape over the T of the steering wheel and then looked up to his face, seeing his eyes narrowed on the road ahead and the unusually stern expression on his face. His chest rose and fell, steady and controlled, and if there was one thing I knew about Will Grayson III, it was that when he was in control you should worry. Like in the pool last night. When he got serious, he got to me. I looked back down at my lap, breathing hard and feeling a little sick because my body was raging with a lot of different things. I liked it. We crawled closer to my house, and he hadn’t said a word, but I didn’t care. I just soaked up the feeling for as long as I could. Feeling him next to me. Riding with him. The goosebumps on my legs, because I felt kind of pretty in the skirt now. Did he like it?

Cold Point was a part of the cliffs that jutted out into the sea a little more than the rest of the coastline between here and Falcon’s Well. With the theme park in the way, it was nearly inaccessible now. And for good reason, given its history. “Do you know that story?” he asked me. “Murder-suicide,” I muttered. He was quiet, and then I heard his soft, “Maybe.” I turned my eyes to him as he leaned his head on his hand and stared ahead. “In 1954, Edward McClanahan was my age,” he told me. “Senior, basketball star, bit of a bad boy, but only where it counted…” He smiled, teasing me. “He was good to people. He showed up for people, you know?” I didn’t know much about Edward McClanahan, other than the basketball team made an annual pilgrimage to his grave. I never really cared. But I stayed quiet. “That season was supposed to be their greatest,” he said. “They had the team, the coach, the years of training… They could anticipate each other’s moves, even their thoughts.” He met my eyes. “That’s what years of playing together had brought them to. They were a family. More than family. They were in perfect symbiosis.” Like the Horsemen. Watching them sometimes, the other players didn’t exist. Michael, Kai, Damon, and Will were like the four limbs of a single body.

I wondered how true all of that was. He painted a nice picture, but we believe what it suits us to believe, and nothing more. Everything seemed better in hindsight.

“Homecoming Night, a girl from Falcon’s Well—one of our rivals—showed up at our high school dance. Alone and wearing a pink dress of lace and tulle. The twinkle lights above the dance floor glittered across her hair and bare shoulders as she walked in, and no one could take their eyes off her. She was so nervous, knowing she didn’t belong there.” He paused, turning his head and holding my eyes. “Feeling like a mouse in a snake pit. She kept holding her stomach like she was going to throw up or something. But she was pretty. So pretty. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.” McClanahan. I looked off, past the Ferris wheel and toward Cold Point, seeing her in my head. The strapless pink dress that poofed out the way dresses in the fifties did, while young men wore suits. “They say she came to cause trouble,” he told me, his soft, low voice drifting into my ear. “That the rival team sent her to sow discord. They say she taunted our whole team. Tried to get them to do things to her that night so she could play the victim the next day.” Why was he telling me this? “No one knows how they knew where to find the body, or if she even screamed, but she was found through the morning fog hours later, broken on the jagged rocks below,” he said, “her pink dress stained red and the waves plastering her hair to the stones as her dead eyes stared up at the cliff above. The last thing she saw was the person who pushed her.” I tried to lick my lips, but my mouth was too dry.

“They say the team was going to have to forfeit the season under all the media scrutiny and investigation.” He drew in a long breath and exhaled. “They say all the guys who didn’t come from wealthy families were going to have to forego their hopes of athletic scholarships because of it. They wouldn’t go to college.” He paused. “They say the coach would have to be fired and move his family, the prospects of finding another job after such a scandal not high.” I didn’t know all that. I listened as he went on. “All I know is,” he sighed, “a week later, Edward McClanahan left a confession on his parents’ kitchen table and then followed her over the cliff. The last line of the confession read ‘We want what we want.’” I turned my eyes on him as sweat cooled my pores. We want what we want.

“They say McClanahan sacrificed himself so the season could go on.” Like he took the blame? He didn’t do it? “That’s what they say, anyway,” he mused, a gleam hitting his eyes. “But the whispers tell of something else.” A flutter hit my stomach, and I barely breathed, waiting for him to continue. “They say she was caught between two best friends—McClanahan, who was in love with her, and A.P., her boyfriend. He wasn’t wealthy like McClanahan, but he was clever. And ambitious. Not someone to be underestimated.” My interest piqued even more. A mystery. I liked mysteries. “They say she was pregnant,” he told me. “They say she jumped.” And then he looked at me again. “They say Edward… didn’t.” Didn’t jump? So the rumors say Edward was pushed instead? A smile played on his lips. “They say the note on the kitchen table was a confession, but not his.” He took another breath and looked out the front windshield again. Everyone revered Edward because they thought he took the fall to save the team’s season. Save some kids their college scholarships and a coach his job. I always thought it was moronic. Edward clearly didn’t unders...

“I like it here,” he almost whispered. “I like mystery. Sometimes I’m dying to know what happened that night, and other times, I hope I never find out, because it’s more interesting this way. Reality always disappoints.” He turned to me. “I think that’s why I’ve always liked this time of day best. People hide in the dark. They quench their thirsts in the dark. They build their secrets in the dark. We’re more ou...

I gazed into his dark green eyes, his whole face enshadowed in the cab of the truck, and I wanted… Every nerve on my lips hummed, feeling the weight between us like each end of a string tied around him and me, and it kept ge...

I dropped my eyes to my lap, fisting my hands. And then his voice came again, barely audible, “Come here,” he said. My heart dipped into my belly, and I could feel him in my hands. I looked at him, seeing him grind the steering wheel under his fist and breathing hard. “Come here,” he said again. I absently shook my head. “Why?” “Because I’m your man.” My heart cracked and splintered, aching with the warmth of those stupid words. Who the hell was he, huh? He didn’t get to decide that someone belonged to him just because it struck his fancy. And that’s all I was. A passing fancy. He didn’t listen, and he didn’t take no for an answer. If I let this happen—let him love me and pro...

Slamming the door, I heard his open on the other side, and he’d rounded the car and stopped me in my tracks before I even made it to the tailgate. “Why are you afraid of me?” he barked, backing me up. “Why did you tell me that story?” I retorted. “Why do you think?” “To prove again what I already know?” I yelled. “That Thunder Bay boys always get away with it.” I stopped, and so did he. “You think Edward McClanahan got away with anything?” he fired back. I didn’t give a shit about Edward McClanahan! I just… I just wanted… I just wanted to go home! “I told you, because I like this place,” he finally answered. “I wanted you here with me, because…” He searched for words, his hand shooting to his hair and gripping it. “Because we want what we want, Em! Jesus!”

“This isn’t happening,” I spat out, getting back in his face. “I’m not going to be the one all over you in the school hallways tomorrow in front of everyone. I’m something dirty you hide!” “Speak for yourself,” he growled. “I think you’re the one ashamed of me. That you want me. That you want this.”

He snarled and advanced on me, but then backed away and turned around. He ran his hands through his hair again, and I could see him breathing hard, the vein in his neck bulging. “I would never stop touching you,” he said, his voice almost tired. “And I would touch only you.” He turned and looked at me, and he was so beautiful I wanted to believe him. Raindrops started to fall again, lightning flashing across the sky, followed by thunder cracking overhead. Out of all the boys in school, Will was the biggest threat. Not because he was handsome or because he was one of the only ones who was ever somewhat interested in me, but because… He never gave up. Deep down, I loved that, because I was going to be an effort for anyone, and he wasn’t easily discouraged. Right now, I wanted him to pick me up. But instead, I circled the truck and climbed in the driver’s side, immediately locking the doors. If he wasn’t driving me home, I’d drive myself.

I turned onto the dark road and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, speeding back to Thunder Bay and gripping the wheel like it was his damn neck. Who did he think he was? Did every girl just roll over and thank her lucky stars for his attention? Is that where he got such confidence? I just wanted to go home. Study. Graduate. And leave this town. I didn’t want anything else! “Ugh!” I growled, turning up the radio and inching up in my seat because I could barely reach the damn pedals, and it was too dark to try to figure out how to adjust the seat in this stupid truck. God, where did he get off? He’s all like “Hey, babe. I’m—insert hair flip and surfer boy tone—Will Grayson. Should we like, maybe get together and mate? We can totally honeymoon in Hawaii. I’ll put a stamp in your passport and make all your dreams come true.” Which of course, we wouldn’t need our passports, because Hawaii was still in our own country! I growled under my breath, breathing hard as rain fell harder, blurring the road in front of me.

Okay, okay. He wasn’t that dumb. He wasn’t dumb at all. He would know Hawaii was in America. And he didn’t say ‘like’ and ‘totally’. I hooded my eyes, sighing. And he could be kind. And sweet. I hesitated a moment, watching the rain really come down now before I slowed on the empty highway and pulled another U-turn, heading back to him. He was persistent to the point of exhaustion, but…I couldn’t let him walk home in this. I couldn’t do that to him.

Speeding back to the Cove, I turned into the parking lot again and spotted him kicked back on a parking stump, hood up and ankles crossed. I pulled up next to him, rolling down the window. He peered up at me, batting his eyelashes against the rain. “I really don’t like you,” I said nice and loud so we were clear. He smiled and pushed himself up, coming up to the truck and climbing up on the step, peering down at me. “I like that you don’t like me,” he taunted.

“So, I’m a challenge then?” I asked. “That’s what all this is really about?” “No.” He shook his head. “You just make me want to be…” “Better?” I rolled my eyes at the cliché statement. But he paused a moment. “More,” he finally said. “No one ever expects more from me.”

“Can I pick you up for school Monday morning?” he asked, turning onto my street. I unfastened my seatbelt. “No.” “I just asked to be nice,” he said in a stern tone. “I’m picking you up. I don’t like you walking.” “Please…” I shook my head, ready to plead. “Please don’t.” We approached my house, and I grabbed my bag and flute off the floor. “Stop here,” I told him. “I’m not afraid of your brother, Em.” “Please just drop me here,” I bit out. “Stop the truck, Will. Please.” “Okay.” He quickly pulled over to the curb, sliding behind Mrs. Costa’s Buick. I opened the door, but he grabbed my hand. I looked at him over my shoulder. “I’ll be right here,” he said. “At seven.” I stared at him for a moment, wondering if saying no again would do any good, but I just took my stuff and jumped down from the cab.

I couldn’t stop crying as I gasped for air. I couldn’t breathe, and I gripped the sides of the table, my teeth cutting the insides of my mouth. I tried to think of my gazebo. If Will helped me build it. How nice that might be someday. Will and the gazebo… Will and the gazebo… The breeze on my face was warm, and the leaves in the trees smelled like summer. But as Martin yelled, and I gagged, spaghetti choking me, I couldn’t muster another single coherent thought. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t remember what Will looked like. What my gazebo looked like. I didn’t have a gazebo. There was no Will Grayson. There was nothing but this. There was nothing but this.

Will was naked in plain sight today. I breathed hard, but I didn’t move, remembering the last time I saw so much of him. He had been fit, his body unmarked back then, but before I could stop myself, I peered around the corner again, taking in the sight of him now, years later. He’d changed on the outside, too. I let eyes fell down his body, the soap spilling down his skin and little bubbles dotting his stomach and arms. I gazed, heat rising up my neck as he tipped his head back, smoothing hot water over his hair, steam billowing around his golden, wet skin. Tattoos covered both arms, drifting onto his chest and back, and they lined his collarbone and hands, but I couldn’t see them well enough to decipher everything. I made out his basketball number on the back of his right hand, his Devil’s Night mask on his left arm against the backdrop of Thunder Bay, the cemetery, the Ferris wheel, and St. Killian’s easily visible. His other shoulder and arm featured a cascading vine of leaves surrounding a skull, words written on the forehead I couldn’t make out, and the rest of his body was covered in big and small pictures as well as words, some even draped around his collarbone like a necklace. I wanted to see everything. I wanted to touch him.

I gripped the wall for support, heat pooling between my legs as I chewed the inside of my mouth. I stared at his hard-on, and in the not-so-far recesses of my mind, I wondered what he was thinking about. Me? Or her?

“What happened between you two?” he asked. “It’s not a coincidence that you’re here, you know?” I studied him. Yes, I knew that. It had something to do with Will. “So you think whoever dumped me here is giving Will a present?” “Perhaps.” He eased his grip on my neck. “They are definitely no friend to you, though.”

It was like Will. He loved to love. He loved to be happy. He’d wanted to make me happy once.

My chin trembled, and I wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t special. We’d all suffered loss. But one thing was pretty clear. She was the reason he was here. Much like Will could saddle me with that honor, possibly, as well. A woman happened to them both. “I couldn’t look at her, much like he can’t look at you,” Aydin said. My stomach coiled, and he released me, backing away. I turned and looked at him. “I just wonder…” Aydin said. “If he ever decided to run from here, would he care to take you?”

Was Will planning on running? What would happen to me if he weren’t here? Or if he were sent home? Would he fight for me? I’d left him once. I’d let him be arrested and sent to prison, and in his head, I hadn’t cared at all. Maybe I deserved the same. I walked to the pool’s edge, descended the steps into the water, and jumped in, sinking my entire body below the surface. The water held me, warm and weightless, and I drifted back up to the surface, floating on my back. The saltwater stung the cut on my lip, but the pain filled me with anger and memory, and I knew this was coming. I always knew. I just figured it would’ve come after he got out of prison, and as the subsequent years passed, it didn’t. I got comfortable. Where would both of us be if he had just left me alone like I told him to?

I used to think that if I got out of Thunder Bay and lived my life for me, doing what I loved and inviting only the people into my life whom I wanted, everything would be perfect someday. But I hated everything I had, and loved nothing as well as what I’d given up, all of it tainted from the moment he was charged seven years ago, because I knew I didn’t deserve to be happy.

Just go. I begged him in my head, meeting his hard eyes with my blurry ones, and there was so much to say, but if I didn’t explain, then maybe I wouldn’t have to feel him spit on me and throw me away for good. Please just go. He charged over instead, not going, and I gasped as he reached down, grabbing me by the collar and hauling me out of the water. “Will,” I cried. He picked me up under my arms and lifted me up, nose to nose with him, glaring at me as he dug his fingers into my body. Another cry escaped. My legs dangled, and I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I was frozen, waiting for what was to come. I could see it inside of him, ripping him apart, his lips tight and his brow narrow. But instead of spitting, he shook me hard, growling like he was frustrated with himself more than me, and I broke into more tears. “I’m sorry,” I cried. I was so sorry for all of his pain. But when I thought he was going to throw me back into the pool, he brought me in instead, wrapping an arm around me and pressing his forehead to mine. His hard muscle nudged my thigh through the towel, and he took my face in his hand, breath pouring out of him as he hovered over my mouth. “Will…” I started. But he lifted my thighs up around his waist and backed into the shower again, slamming me into the wall as he took my bottom lip between his teeth.

“Get off,” I told him. “I—We can’t.” He wrapped his fingers around my throat and squeezed. “This is how it should’ve gone,” he whispered up to me, cutting me off. “You were a hot little piece of meat, and I know you liked it.” He let my neck go and grabbed my breast instead, plumping it up and out for him as he dipped down and covered my nipple with his mouth. I moaned as the heat of his tongue covered my skin, my clit throbbing as I grinded on him. “We should’ve just kept it this simple, huh?” he said. “But you didn’t want people to know the shit we did.” His mouth covered mine, stealing my breath as he slid his tongue inside and completely took me over, moving across my lips like I was a car he was shifting into gear. “Why did you do it?” he asked. “Ashamed of what you liked me to do? There was still so much more to come, but you cut us short. We didn’t even do half of everything I had planned for you.”

A calm breeze swept through the trees, clouds rolled in, the air charged, and I looked around for any sign of Emmy Scott. Without looking like I was looking for her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want my friends to know that I was into her, because they already knew I was, but if she got the slightest attention for it, she’d get scared off, and she was already constantly bolting away from me. My eyes lifted, covertly scanning the crowd. She wasn’t waiting for me this morning. I mean, of course she wasn’t, but still. Pretty sure I would’ve died, seeing her waiting on the corner of her block for me, but as much as I wished I didn’t know, I did. She would never make anything easy. Or maybe she couldn’t. Something kept bugging me about Friday night. Dropping her off at her house, I could hear it in her voice when she demanded I stop a couple houses down, instead of right in front of her driveaway. It was fear. Almost like she was panicked.

I was one of the first here this morning. Where the hell was she? Was she already inside? “Same parties. Same girls,” Michael mumbled. “I’m fucking bored.” “I know.” Kai let out a sigh. “I’m feeling it, too. I need something to happen.” “Something to obsess over,” Michael added. And then Damon chimed in. “We should kill someone.” Michael snorted, Kai rolled his eyes, and I plucked the cigarette out of Damon’s mouth, taking a drag and shaking my head. Michael whipped his uniform blazer at Damon. “I was thinking I needed the season to start, you fucking psycho.”

“Or maybe you need to fall for someone,” Kai told him, pulling his jacket out of his Jeep and slipping it on. “I’m ready to have my guts twisted into knots.” But instead of looking at Damon or Michael when he said that, Kai met my eyes, a knowing smile playing behind them. I flipped him off, and he just laughed silently. “Blood would be better,” Damon pointed out, plucking his cigarette back, taking a drag, blowing the smoke up to the sky, and then flicking the butt off somewhere. “Come on. We’ll pick someone. Someone who deserves it. Stalk her—or him—watch them, plan how we’re going to get away with it, dispose of the body…” I shook my head, only half listening as I scanned the parking lot again for Em. “And then watch this town lose their minds at the danger lurking right under their noses,” Damon said. “It’ll be fun.”

I let go, peering through the bookcase and seeing Emory lean against the back wall, her head down with her hair and glasses covering her face. “You weren’t in class,” I said. Her chest shook, and I thought I saw her lip tremble. But then she cleared her throat. “Wasn’t I?” she snipped. “Wow, you’re outstanding. Maybe for your next trick you can make fire and draw stories in the dirt about those funny holes in the sky that let the light in.” Huh? Holes in the sky? Oh, stars. Was she calling me a caveman? Little shit. I mean, I did do her literature assignment for her. Did she have any idea how hard it was to try to sound like an angry teenage girl with zero sense of humor?

Then a tear fell down her cheek, and she quickly swiped it away. I dropped my eyes down her body, taking in the worn and cracked gray Chucks, and the skirt two inches too short with the green and navy blue tartan pattern that was two years outdated. The glowing olive skin of her beautiful legs, interrupted with the occasional bruise or scrape, which I actually kind of loved because she probably got them from constructing that gazebo and being amazing at something most of us could never do. Her shirt tail and cuffs hung out of her navy blue cardigan because it was too big, and her tie was missing, her blouse laying open an extra button. A lock of hair was caught inside her shirt, laying against her chest. She was here and dressed for school, but she was hiding instead of going to class? “What happened?” I asked. But she just shook her head. “Just leave me alone,” she whispered. “Please.” Please? God, she must be desperate if she was using manners.

“I picked something good.” “There’s nothing in that selection that’s good, so just give me The Grapes of Wrath paperback, because things can always get worse, and that choice will really make this day complete.” Seriously? How the hell did she guess which book I picked? Dammit. I knew she’d hate all the choices. The first week of school she went on some rant about the lack of diversity and relevant topics on our reading list and how the “classics” were only “classic” because novels written for a broader audience weren’t getting published in the old days. The whole system was rigged and damn the man, etc.

I just wanted her to smile. It would be one thing if I were the one making her miserable, but I had a feeling I wasn’t. “Em, look at me a minute.” She stopped, looking like the whole world sat on her shoulders. What the hell was wrong? I knew if I asked, she wouldn’t tell me, though. “Em?” I murmured. Just look at me. Still, she wouldn’t turn. She was right here but miles away, and my chest ached.

She sucked in a breath and tried to pull away. But I whispered, “Look at me.” She stopped resisting, but still refused to meet my eyes. What was wrong with her? As far as my friends were concerned, there’d always been something wrong with her, but she looked…defeated. Like a broken vase barely held together with glue. Emory Scott never looked like that. She looked down, probably at our hands, and I didn’t tighten my hold or caress her fingers. I just held her. “Look at me,” I whispered. But she choked out a sob, turning her face away so I wouldn’t see. “Don’t,” she demanded. “Please, don’t be sweet. I…” But all she did was shake her head, the words lost. Rage boiled my blood, and I wanted to know what happened. Who hurt her? The sight of her crying was like a knife in my gut. But she wouldn’t talk to me. Not yet. Maybe never.

“Knock-knock,” I said. She just sighed but stayed silent. I knew I was being annoying. I’d punch me if I were her. “Come on, knock-knock?” She shook her head and dried her eyes, ignoring me. I hardened my tone, demanding, “Knock-knock.” “Come in,” she snapped, cutting off my joke. I stood frozen for a moment. How did she always do that? Contrary to popular belief, it’s not often I could be outsmarted, let alone repeatedly. But that was clever. I broke out into a laugh, and after a moment, I noticed a small smile playing on her lips that she tried to hide.

“Look at me,” I repeated. Slowly, she shook her head, but it seemed more to herself than an answer to me. “Emory…” She stared at the floor and then retreated a step, but I grabbed her face, bringing her in close and rubbing my thumbs underneath her eyes. I wiped away the tears, but more just streamed down. And in that moment, I wanted to do nothing else with my life more than change her world, so she’d never feel like this again. Goddammit.