And I don’t know why I wanted to lean in, to close that gap, to connect to the gravity. Maybe it was masochism or something else, but I felt the desire take hold, snaring me somewhere behind my heart, pulling me forward . . . at least until Ethan came over and sat down on the cask we’d reserved with his portfolio.
“It’s real shitty out there,” he said, either oblivious to or ignoring the way Chris and I quickly leaned back from each other. “In case you were wondering.”
“How’s Oliver?” I asked.
“He’s all right. I mean, okay, he’s panicking about his upcoming solo performance. In his words, he’s ‘worried he isn’t interpreting the piece the way his composer expects.’ Whatever that means.” He sighed and picked up his mug of tea, which was still steaming. “Sometimes I swear my conversations would make more sense if I was dating another visual artist.”
His eyes flickered between the two of us, not at all discreet. I could have slapped him.
“Then you gotta worry about artistic competition getting in the middle of things,” I said. I couldn’t tell if I was trying to snub whatever potential Chris had or what, but the situation was suddenly way too awkward for my liking. I need to have a talk with that boy.
“I dunno. Could be kinda hot,” Ethan said with a grin. He looked at Chris. “What do you think? Date within the field or no?”
I knew Ethan was just trying to heal things the way he worked best—by making light of them. He knew I’d dated back home, knew that it had gone horribly wrong and that was why I wasn’t dating anymore. And he knew that was why I had the panic attacks, the moments of sheer terror. This was his way of saying he understood and it was okay. But he didn’t fully understand. I couldn’t move forward—I couldn’t pretend it was okay. All I could do was try to ignore it. Brad had burrowed his way deep inside me, and the memory of him wouldn’t let go. Now that the strange moment between Chris and me was over, I couldn’t believe I’d actually almost leaned in and tried to kiss him.
Rule number one: Never fall in love.
“I dunno,” Chris said after a moment. “Guess it just depends on the situation.”
Ethan nodded sagely over his cup at me.
“Love is strange,” he finally said. “I hear it heals all wounds.”
“That’s time,” I replied. “And that’s also an outright lie.”
He was so lucky the place was crowded. Otherwise, he’d have a bruise to explain to Oliver.
? ? ?
The rest of the evening was spent chatting about school and faculty and what we missed about being a normal teenager—mainly, being able to leave the house after ten, and not having your Internet shut off at eleven. And not always being stressed about homework.
It was, for all intents and purposes, a very short list.
Unsurprisingly, no work got done. We kept waiting for a table to open up but, like us, no one seemed to want to leave and head out into the storm. So we stayed there, at our little bench in the corner, chatting about normal high school things for a few hours, and it felt . . . well, it felt nice. It reminded me of the life I’d given up in coming here: afternoons gossiping and talking about teachers or students, trips to cafés that didn’t involve work. And yeah, there was something nice about sharing a bench with a boy who wasn’t also interested in boys.
We headed back to campus at seven. I made sure to drop by the drugstore for cookies and popcorn and a case of cherry soda I knew Elisa would say I shouldn’t have gotten because she was cutting back on sugar but would drink anyway. It was one of those days, and I had a feeling it would be one of those days for a very long time.
I parted ways with the boys to head back to my room. Chris lingered when I hugged Ethan good-bye, but I just patted Chris on the shoulder and told them I’d see them both at breakfast. I was too distracted to give much thought to the apparent disappointment in Chris’s eyes when I walked away; I couldn’t focus on anything besides the birds. Even in the snow that whipped nearly sideways, crows lined the power lines like onyx sentinels, all of them silent and still and watching. It made me shiver worse than the cold.
Having a bodyguard is one thing. Having one when you don’t know why you need protecting is another.