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My stomach lurched when I saw Finn had called me several times as well, and the thought of listening to his nasally voice made me feel nauseated. I hated how weak he made me feel, even though he lived four hours away. I deleted all six voicemails he’d left with a shaking hand. He hadn’t tried to call or text me in months, and I suspected him moving back home had him trying to reach out. He’d hated living there as much as I do now, so he had to be desperate if he planned on coming back to Highland Park.
I washed my face and then redid my ponytail, easing around the yellowish bruise on the side of my face. I grabbed some toothpaste and cleaned my teeth with my finger.
Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, we’ll be in the big room past the yoga area. It’s downstairs,” Sebastian called out.
“Okay,” I mumbled.
Thinking I should get this day started the right way, I took out the flask and gulped down a big swig of vodka, coughing at the bitterness. I took another swallow, watching myself in the mirror, staring at the strange girl who’d gotten drunk last night. I didn’t know her, but I liked her a lot better than numb Nora. Yeah, this girl was real. She wouldn’t do everything Mother said. She wouldn’t break down behind closed doors, dreaming of knives, blood, and secrets. This girl could handle whatever shit came her way.
To make sure I was ready, I searched around the bathroom for a word to roll around, yet there was nothing that caught my attention except nail clippers, dental floss, and, of course, the toilet. Damn it. I closed my eyes, riffled through my cerebral dictionary and got what I needed.
“Hydraulic,” I said aloud. “A noun derived from Greek and Latin, referring to a system, such as the mechanism operated by the pressure transmitted when a liquid is forced through a small opening or tube. Such as a toilet,” I said, nodding at myself in the mirror for a job well done. I flushed it for good measure, watching the water swirl around.
There, I felt better.
Nope, not loony at all.
I walked out of the bathroom and halted. Sebastian was standing there, his head cocked as he looked at me.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
He arched his brow at me. “It sounded a lot like you were saying all this technical shit about the crapper.”
I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, I didn’t mean to make a joke, but it’s a pretty good one, huh?” he said with a chuckle.
I nodded and smiled widely, not able to resist his easy manner.
He held up a hand. “Wait a minute; you weren’t actually talking to the crapper, were you?”
“No,” I said. “I was defining a word, repeating its definition, parts of speech and etymology. The usual.”
His eyes widened. “A word?”
“Yeah, I got a thing for words. You know how some people collect sea shells? I collect words. I think about them all the time. They make me feel better when I’m jittery. I can’t get through the day without them. Well, I guess I could, but it wouldn’t be fun.” Understatement of the year.
“My mom collected porcelain figures,” he murmured, nodding like it was everyday you heard some girl admit she was neurotic.
Looking at Sebastian, I couldn’t help but see the differences in his and Leo’s appearance now. The opal-blue eyes were the same, but Sebastian’s blond hair was gelled in a buzz cut while Leo’s was longer and sexier. Enough to run my hands through and hold on tight while he pounded away.
I pushed Leo out of my head and checked out Sebastian, standing there in his skinny jeans and retro Beatles shirt. With expensive Italian loafers. This guy was so LA.
He wagged his finger at me. “I knew you’d like me. I’m hard to resist,” he grinned.
I shook my head at his arrogance.
“So, do you have a lot of words in your head?”
“How many do you think is a lot?” I said.
“My mom had like a hundred of those porcelain things, sitting around everywhere.”
“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say I repeat different words in my head about five times a day. So that’s about thirty-five new words a week.”
“Damn,” he whispered out.
“Yeah, it’s what Mother calls a serious problem.”
My phone rang, and I saw it was the black bunny.
“Hey, can you give me a few minutes?” I said, nodding at the phone. “It’s my best friend, and I need to talk to her about what happened to me last night. She tends to worry.”
“Sure, come on down when you’re done,” he said, walking away.