Even though he wouldn’t leave for a while, once he did, he’d go back to Washington, so their friendship was doomed.
He frowned at the sad thought. Bianca immediately noticed and her own smile slipped away.
“What’s up?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she often did when she had a question.
It was a cute habit, one that made the churning in his stomach all the worse.
“Just…thinking about when we get out,” he confessed, pulling another block from the tower. “I’ll miss seeing you daily.”
“Ditto, but this amazing thing called cell phones exist, so—”
“Yeah, smartass, I know,” he said, chuckling. “Texting won’t be the same, though.”
“Dude, we could do phone and video calls, too. Our friendship will be fine.”
Friendship.
It took everything in him to keep his face neutral. Already he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with only being friends with Bianca. Outside those related to him, she was the coolest girl he’d ever met. Maybe if they were older and free to travel as they pleased, he’d take balls in hand and confess. Now, he coulddo nothing but content himself with being buddy-buddy with her, platonically.
As if she’d ever want more with you.
He jerked, the words stinging his brain, startling in their volume. Yanking his hair and gritting his teeth, he glanced around, wondering if Bianca saw into his head and spoke the words to him. Actually, he would’ve preferred that. He enjoyed feeling normal.
Even though Bianca hadn’t judged him when she learned his history, she wouldn’t want him—a psychotic Jesus Boy—as a romantic partner.
Maniacal laughter echoed in his head. He trembled.
Bianca’s dark brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay, Rule? Do you need me to get someone?”
“No, I’m good,” he said, snappier than intended.
Since learning the full story, Biaca had become hyperprotective of him. On the upside, that meant she gave shit to anyone who gave Rule shit. On the downside, it meant she coddled him like he was a little kid, not a teenager three years from eighteen. The first sign of trouble, and she wanted to run to get an attendant or Freya.
“Really, don’t worry about it,” he continued, calmer this time.
He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, waiting. Sweating. Afraid. But nothing.The voice was quiet again. He tried to reset and return to their original conversation. “Uh, we don’t have to worry about…about…uh…not seeing each other any time soon,” he said, floundering for a moment, then remembering the depressing topic and forcing a smile.
Instead of returning it, she frowned and shifted. She wore the bright yellow sundress that made her look even prettier. Rule had noticed she didn’t have a big selection of clothes. Every time he thought about asking Mom or Rebel to send her something, he chickened out. He couldn’t imagine what either of the three of them would say. Nor did he want to insult Bianca. He could always pass it off as a friendship gift and…
The frown on her face registered and he swallowed. “What?”
She dropped her gaze, then turned her head and studied the painting of a sunset over an ocean, one of several in the lounge. The green and white color scheme bored Rule. He knew the muted colors were supposed to soothe the mentally disturbed but it made him long for home—his room.
Bianca still hadn’t spoken.
“You’re scaring me,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
Squirming, Bianca finally looked at him again. “Actually, uh, my doctor says I might be released within the month.”
“Within the month?” he echoed on a whisper.
She nodded. “Yes. If I continue improving.”
Rule deflated, the news disheartening him.
Selfish prick.
No, she’s a selfish cunt.
