And she’d come by my bedroom at eight, just as promised. I’d borne the humiliation of her stepping into my room, surreptitiously glancing around, probably looking for sharp objects that don’t belong in the room of a teenager who was recently admitted into hospital with slit wrists. She’d made polite conversation for ten minutes, awkwardly asked me if I was planning on going to sleep soon, to which I replied of course, look, I’m in my PJs, and then she’d left.
Took me ten minutes to get changed, throw on a little eyeliner, mascara, lip gloss, and then I was clambering out on my window and onto the roof. Losing my room on the same floor as Carrie and Elodie was a blow, but now that I have cause to sneak out of the academy, I’m suddenly not too mad anymore. The drop from the roof outside my bedroom window is manageable. I barely even register the dart of pain in my ankles when I land. Still, I make a mental note to myself that I need to bend my knees more when I let myself drop in future. Then I’m away.
It’s too dangerous to skirt around the building and grab the car Dad left for me—I’ll definitely get busted if I do that—so I flit across the front lawn, clinging to the shadows, until I reach the end of the building, and then I duck down low, racing for a bank of trees.
I’m not seen.
No one comes tearing out of the academy, screaming at me to get back inside.
I’m in the wind, and the freedom that hits me with that knowledge is a heady and powerful thing. Once I can no longer see Wolf Hall, I emerge from the trees and opt for the road instead, walking alongside the blacktop, the night singing all around me. The roar from the cicadas is almost deafening in my ears as I hurry down the mountain. When I reach Riot House’s front door, it’s eight-forty-five and I’m sticky with sweat. My hair is plastered to the back of my neck, and I do not feel as fresh as I did when I jumped out of my bedroom window.
Pax was very clear about what I should do when I got to the house. He said come in and go straight to his room, which is a far better option than knocking: I don’t want to deal with the indignity of Wren or Dash answering the door, that’s for sure. But I half expect the front door to be locked when I place my palm against the warmed metal handle and depress the latch.
It isn’t locked. It isn’t even properly closed, now that I’m up this close. It’s held ajar by a tiny ceramic bird, wedged between the door and the frame. Weird. When I pick it up, I see that it’s actually covered in a spiderweb of tiny cracks, the fissures in its surface painted gold. It’s beautiful. There’s something vaguely familiar about it…
When I push the door open and step inside, I come face-to-face with someone I was not expecting to see here tonight.
Elodie.
My friend stands in the hallway, wearing the shortest skirt imaginable, her dark hair tied back into Harlequin-style pig tails. Her t-shirt is utterly see-thru. When she sees me, her face turns bright red. “Pres? Wai—wha—what are you doing here?”
I’m a horrible liar. Truly horrible. Or…I guess I used to be? Without missing a beat, I say, “Pax and I are working on a project. We’re studying.”
No sense in asking her what she’s doing here. I’d say that was pretty obvious. She doesn’t look like she buys my explanation at all, but she’s far too embarrassed that her nipples are visible through her shirt to question me at length. “Oh. Oh, cool.” She casually folds her arms over her chest, covering herself. “Well. I hope he’s not gonna be an asshole,” she mutters.
I shrug. “When isn’t he?”
“That is very true. I, uhh…I’m just waiting for Wren. He dipped out to get some—”
“Ice cream,” a voice behind me says. It’s Wren, of course, holding a brown paper bag of groceries in his arms. I didn’t even hear him pull up. He slips through the doorway, kicking it closed behind himself, effortlessly relieving me of the little ceramic bird as he passes me and heads across the foyer. Dressed head-to-toe in black, his hair wet, flicking into his eyes, he drops a kiss on the top of Elodie’s head, placing the little bird into her hands. She looks up at him, suddenly no longer embarrassed. I’m the one who’s embarrassed, in fact, as they trade a long look at each other, staring into each other’s eyes. A lot passes through them in that look. Whole civilizations rise and fall, and universes crumble to ash in the time that passes while they silently smile at each other. I feel wrong just witnessing the intensity of it.
Wren’s the one to break the moment. He gently runs the pad of one thumb over Elodie’s cheekbone; the action couldn’t be any more intimate if he’d lifted up her skirt and thrust himself inside of her. He doesn’t make a single comment about me being here as he heads into the kitchen with his bag of groceries. Doesn’t even look back at me. Elodie does, though. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, eyes dancing.
“I—” She shakes her head, screwing her eyes closed, laughing breathlessly. “Sorry. I knew Dash was out. Pax doesn’t come out of his room very often. I…I figured I was safe. I’ll let you go up and get on with your assignment, I guess.”
“Yeah. No worries.” I head for the stairs.
“The library. Tomorrow,” Elodie calls after me. “You, me, and Carrie. We’re gonna study. We’ve all been so distracted, we’ve hardly spent any time together. What do you say?”
“I say yes.” I give her a smile over my shoulder, warmed by the idea of spending the afternoon with my friends. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but when you’re trapped at the same school, at the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere, that’s an age to not spend any time with your friends. This little bit of distance between us all has worked in my favor, though. If Elodie and Carina weren’t so wrapped up in their boyfriends, they might have noticed just how pale and distracted I’ve been. They might have noticed the bandages. They might have started asking unwelcome questions…
Above me, a swell of loud, thrashing music erupts as a door opens and Pax leans out over the side of the bannister. He’s shirtless, tattoos blacker than black, taking up most of his skin. The look on his face is ominous to say the least. “You’re late.”
I glance back down the stairs, and Elodie has gone.
A pop of brilliant white light bleaches the walls. Pax took another photo of me? Sure enough, the body of his Canon is in his hand when I look back up at him. “I said eight-thirty. It’s nearly nine.” His brows are drawn together, eyes narrowed, his jaw set. Even with a shitty expression on his face, he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. My pulse ratchets up, changing gear as I climb up to the stairs. He watches me intently as I come, scowling the entire time.
When I get to the second-floor landing, he heads straight for me, camera still in hand, and sweeps me up with one arm. I’m so shocked that I don’t even have time to yelp. One moment I’m standing on my own two feet. The next, my legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s pinning me to his chest with what feels like one solid, strong band of steel.
Panic flutters beneath my solar plexus. He’s so much stronger than me. Picking me up like this was nothing to him. If he wanted to, it would be nothing for him to hurt me. To pin me down and take whatever he feels like.