“Hear my condition first,” I say over my shoulder, taking a slow sip from the mug. When I turn around, Silas is watching me like I’m drinking something toxic.
“When the time comes—whenI'mready—I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Questions I’ve always wanted to ask. And you have to answer them honestly.”
“Ask me now.”
“No, not now.” I shake my head. “When I’m ready. And you must promise you’ll tell me the truth. No lies. No avoiding.”
“Scout’s honor.” He raises his right hand, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Were you even a Boy Scout?”
“For a while, until they kicked me out for nearly burning down a national park.”
I snort into my tea. “Of courseyou did.”
Back Then- Silas’s house
For the second time, I’ve been invited to a party. It’s a celebration of our successful collaboration with the theater group and the other classes that participated. Unfortunately, it’s at Silas’s house—again—and memories of this place are always heavy, grim. But I came anyway.
My sister is around somewhere, and I figure, what’s one more night of enduring this? The year is nearly over, and I won’t have to see any of these people again.
The play was a hit—the actors were incredible, and despite my usual instinct to avoid these things, I felt I had to be a part of it. Even if everyone is busy congratulatingSilas. In fact, some people are even congratulating his “girlfriend” for landing such a “creative partner.”
Michelle. She’s histemporarygirlfriend—or at least, that’s the rumor. She’ll probably be with him until school ends, which is soon. I’ve never liked her—she’s nasty, though not necessarily to me, but to everyone she deems below her at Willow High. Still, she’s one of the prettiest girls around, so it makes sense that she’d be with someone like Silas—equally attractive, equally cruel. After a few hours of people drinking, loosening up, and the party devolving into a typical chaotic mess, I feel the familiar urge to leave. My exit plan is already forming in my mind when, through the kitchen window, I catch sight of Silas. He’s sitting alone in a lounge chair by the pool, elbows resting on his knees, staring intently at the shimmering water. His expression isn’t the cocky mask he usually wears—there’s something different, almost ... haunted.
Against my better judgment, something in me pulls toward him. I don’t know why, but seeing him like this, sooff, is unsettling. I walk outside slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. When I’m this sad, even my own footsteps feel too loud.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is a low grumble, but there’s no hostility in it. He hasn’t even looked up from the pool, yet he knows I’m there.
“I- I was just checking on you,” I say quietly, almost in a whisper, unsure why I’m even speaking.
“And why do you care, Bunny?” His eyes remain fixed on the water, the blue light reflecting across his face, casting shadows that make him look almost unreal.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, the words feeling strange as they leave my mouth. I turn, already regretting this and searching for the quickest exit.
“No, wait … ” His voice shifts, softer now, as he stands up quickly and moves toward me. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving. It’s time.” My voice feels too small, too fragile in the open air.
“If the music’s bothering you, you can use my ‘self-pity’ spot. It’s available.” He gestures to the lounge chair he’d just vacated, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
His offer makes me smile reflexively, but it fades as quickly as it comes. Washefeeling sorry for himself? Is that what this is? “It’s not just the music that’s the problem,” I reply, feeling awkward and exposed.
Silas crosses his arms and nods slowly, understanding flickering across his features. “I know,” he says, his voice quieter. “I’m inviting you, anyway. Don’t you see that?”
“No, sorry,” I mutter, my gaze dropping to the ground. Embarrassment burns through me. Why can’t I ever read people the way everyone else seems to? Why does this always feel so difficult?
His tone softens unexpectedly. “Did you enjoy the play?” It’s the first time he’s ever asked me a personal question, let alone seemed genuinely curious about my opinion.
“Yes!” I say, a bit too quickly, my eyes lighting up. A safe topic—finally. “I liked the additions they made at the end.”
“You mean the kiss?” he asks, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.
“Well, yes,” I say, suddenly shy. “It was what the dialogue needed to have a conclusion; don’t you think?”
Silas is quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting to the pool again. “Maybe a closure is all that’s necessary,” he says softly, almost to himself. He bites his lower lip, his brow furrowing in thought. “Maybe that's exactly what we need.”
“I don’t understand,” I admit, confusion slipping into my voice.
