At first, as I breathe in the scent that’s all him, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t hug me back, and I wonder if he’ll close himself off again, the way we all did, in the beginning. But it’s been months since I met these boys, and I feel my walls melting.
I wonder if, maybe, it’s not the same for them.
A heartbeat passes. Another.
Then I feel it. The tendons and muscles in his body moving just before he crushes me so tight to his chest, I worry I can’t breathe, yet I don’t care.
His lips find my hair, my cheek, his hold bone deep, as if he wants all of me.
“Baby,” he whispers, and it isn’t mocking or angry or annoyed. He sounds open. Desperate.Loved.“Baby, I don’t want to let you go.”
A sharp breath leaves me, but I can’t think of how to respond. What to say. What this means.
And a minute later, after letting us have our moment, Faust is behind me, encircling both me and Sylvan, the three of us holding on for dear life in Faust’s massive bed.
“You don’t have to,” Faust says with certainty. “None of us have to.”
I can only hope it’s true.
FIFTY-SEVEN
NEVE
I’m deep into dreaming about cluster B personality disorders—thanks to my last final exam two days ago in Abnormal Psych—when a buzzing sound intrudes into my sleep. A groan leaves my throat, and I hear it in reality, realizing I’m now, officially, awake. And the buzz is my phone, right by my head, because Faust and Sylvan are an hour away for a Friday night game.
They won.
I stayed up until they went back to their hotel. Sent half-naked photos to both of them, separately, different angles, but I’m quite certain they compared notes based on Sylvan’s complaint that he didn’t get a nipple shot but Faust did. I told them they could fuck each other anytime they wanted, as long as they told me about it.
The vibration from my phone grows louder and I reach out with haphazard aim, my fingers curling around the sleek rectangle as I shift onto my side, drool dried on my face. I smile to myself before I’ve even seen my screen because I imagine it’s one of the boys, and while I’ll likely sound like a toad when I answer the phone, I have to admit I love talking to them.
But when my face shockingly unlocks my phone in the darkness of my room, I realize it wasn’t a call. There are many of those, but there’s other notifications too.
A series of texts. From Faust, Sylvan, and an unknown number.
My mouth dries out, worse than it was, and it’s as if my tongue is stuck to my teeth.
My body grows tense.
I lift groggy eyes to my closed bedroom door. There’s no light underneath the crack of it, and I know Cynthia is in her room. Tye had an away game too. All three boys wanted to pay for a hotel for us, but the locks are changed, there’s an alarm at Blackwell’s, and no doubt the police are covertly watching this place, waiting for my brother to return. He’s not that stupid, though, so I was able to talk Faust, Sylvan,andTye down.
Now, unease contorts under my skin.
Slowly I sit up, not content to bury under the covers if I’m about to receive bad news. My phone vibrates again and I drop my gaze down to the most recent text from Faust, the words splashing at the top of my screen since my phone is unlocked.
33
Tell me you’re okay or I’m going to murder not just your brother but your entire family for failing to keep you safe.
My breath catches. It’s so unlike Faust to say something likethat.I’d expect it from Sylvan, but not the stoic captain of the Dragons.
I don’t read any of the other messages. Holding my phone to my ear after I tap Faust’s number, I keep my gaze trained on my bedroom door.
The line doesn’t have time to ring. It just connects.
“Where are you?” Faust’s flat words, and he’s not keeping his voice down. It was nearly one in the morning from what I remember and I know the guys sleep two to a room, but I don’t pull my phone away to check the time.
“I’m at my apartment. In my bedroom.” I say it slowly and plainly. “Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”
