Deciding to go back to my dorm for what’s likely to become an eight-hour nap, I head back to my own cubicle to grab my bag.
I freeze at the shape of someone else occupying the space.
My heart slams into gear, vision going a little blurry at the edges. Sebastian is standing there, gym bag slung over his shoulder as he stares vacantly at the photos. If possible, he looks even more tired than I do. The bruising around his eyes has faded to a mottled, sickly-looking yellow. He’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt with a smirking devil on the back, and his hair is more lifeless than usual, hanging limply around his face. His jaw is covered with thick stubble that I’ve watched grow from afar over the past week.
It should make me feel better, seeing him like this, knowing that he’s a fucking mess.
It doesn’t.
He’s still gorgeous.
With a steeling breath, I gather up every ounce of courage I possess and walk softly to his side. From here, I can smell him—the lingering scents of old soap and cigarette smoke. I keep my eyes straight ahead on the photos, but I can still feel him stiffen beside me, going stock still.
“You’re up early.” It’s a testament to my exhaustion that my voice emerges in a flat, but even tone.
There’s a long beat of silence before his low voice responds. “Had to clean out my locker. Quit the team.”
I look at him in confusion, but his eyes are still fixed to the photo, hooded and unblinking. “Why?” He doesn’t answer, just moves his eyes to another of the photos—the one of the Devils. Inhaling, I look away. “So, I got my car back.”
From my periphery, I can see his head turn, blue eyes finally landing on me. “What?” His voice, low and tight, sounds surprised. A little bit angry, too.
“Merle called me yesterday morning,” I explain. “Told me it was ready, so I went and picked it up.”
His hand flexes around the strap of the bag, an almost imperceptible movement, before he looks away again. “Right.”
“It’s amazing,” I say, remembering the drive I’d taken after picking it up. I’d driven around Northridge, up to the hills, and then to that little spot overlooking the lake. I sat there for a long time, trying to reconcile the man who first brought me there and the one who so callously threw me away. “Well, ‘amazing’ doesn’t actually do it justice. It’s the…” My voice cracks, and fuck. Fuck. This is why I wanted to wait. I clear my throat, finishing, “It’s the best thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
Sebastian is silent next to me, still rigid and motionless. “Merle does good work,” he finally says. The words land tonelessly between us.
“Yeah.” I nod to myself, muttering, “Sure, Merle.” If possible, he goes even more rigid. He’s clearly not ready to fess up, but he knows.
He knows I know.
I nod to the main portrait, seeing his eyes keep straying back to it, like a magnet. “It’s from that night…”
He reads the text on the mat below it, “Hyperion.”
“The titan of light and watchfulness,” I say, letting my eyes roam around the photo. I’ve kept the fire saturated in color, but Sebastian, in the middle, is a harmony of steel and pewter grays. The fire is reflected in his eyes, giving them a sharp, dangerous glow. It’s a contrast in dark and light. Hard and soft.
This, I decided while sitting in my car, overlooking the lake.
This is how I reconcile those two men.
“He’s one of the twelve children of Earth and Sky.” I shoot him a crooked, if limp, smirk. “Six male titans, six female titans. Seemed fitting.”
He doesn’t look impressed. “You shouldn’t show these,” he says, lips forming a tight line. “People will know that you—”
When he doesn’t finish, I look at the photos, asking, “That I what? Attended a couple legally questionable gatherings? That I got my heart crushed by some asshole? That I loved him?” I turn my gaze on him. “That I know he loved me back?”
Sebastian remains still, tired eyes moving sluggishly back and forth between them. “You don’t know anything.”
“You’re kind of right,” I concede. “I don’t know why you dumped me, and I sure as hell don’t know why you did it like that. I don’t know how you’ve watched me walk around here for the last week, knowing that you ripped my fucking heart out, and still sleep at night.”
He finally looks at me then, blue eyes meeting my own. It’s like an electric shock down my spine, even just this minor connection. Even though he’s watching me with that same blank mask. Even though his eyes are heavy and bruised with a lack of…
Oh.
Right.
“Sebastian. Bass.” My resolve to play this all cool and aloof completely crumbles. “Why?”
He looks away, emotionless, jerking his chin at Hyperion. “This isn’t real. You should show something else.” His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “You should show something honest.”
Feeling defeated and too heavy for my own legs, I reach for my bag and walk away, leaving him with the reality of his own reflection.
“So should you.”
I have to hand it to Preston Prep. When they do something, they go all out.
Despite being held in the gym, the art exhibit feels professional, as fancy as the field trip I took in the tenth grade to the High Museum in downtown Atlanta. We’re instructed to stand near our work so that we can talk about our pieces. That’s the part I’m most uncomfortable with. It’s one thing to have my work, my life and feelings, displayed for everyone to see. It’s another to have to talk about it.
When the waiter walks by with a glass of sparkling cider, I grab one, just to have something to do with my hands.
“Sugar!” Vandy cries, coming around the corner. “It looks so good!”
Aubrey stands beside her. I peer around in search of Georgia, but I don’t see her red hair anywhere.
“Thank you.” My fingers grip the glass like a lifeline. “And thanks for letting me keep the dress for a few more days.”
Vandy waves this off, eyes wandering back to the photos. “This is one of my favorites,” she says of the overpass from the first race.
I awkwardly shuffle my feet, knowing they’re avoiding talking about the huge face—literally, the biggest piece in my showcase—staring back at the three of us. “It’s making me paranoid, to be honest. Like I keep expecting someone to come detain me.”
“I think the police are going to be too busy with other things tonight,” Aubrey says with a small smirk on her lips.
“What are you talking about?” I glance around again. “Where’s Georgia?” They exchange a guilty look and I press. “What’s going on?”
“So, Sebastian is fighting tonight—” Vandy starts.
“V!” Aubrey hisses, jabbing her friend in the side. “We agreed!”
“No, you agreed! I don’t like secrets.” Vandy steps toward me, pitching her voice low. “Carlton got word this morning that Sebastian is supposed to fight tonight. Some awful thing his brother set up. Georgia tried to talk him out of it earlier, but he won’t talk to her. He swears up and down that there’s no way out of this.”