“Patrick,” he starts, quieter now, “you can’t just—”
“I can,” I interrupt, because I’m not sure how much longer I will stay vertical. “And I did. Because you left, even though you promised you wouldn’t ignore me again. And also—”
The room tilts again, worse this time.
Colten’s right in front of me now. My gaze is drawn to the faded scar on his left eyebrow. Even after three years, the hair still won’t grow there.
Selfishly, I hope it never does.
His hands are on my shoulders, warm and steady as he keeps me upright.
“You’re not okay,” he says, all that anger cracking under the weight of his concern.
“I’m great,” I insist, my words only slightly slurred.
“Patrick—”
“I think, uh—” Talking is hard. The words trail off, my tongue heavy and my thoughts even heavier. I try again. “I think we should kiss again.”
There, I did it.
I’m still not sure why Colten’s mad at me, but Iknowhe enjoyed the kissing.
I’m not sure why he still wants to break the spell, why he doesn’t want me to be attracted to him, but maybe if we kissed again, he’ll be happy, like before.
Maybe it will keep him from leaving me again.
The last thing I see before everything goes black is Colten’s face, his eyes wide, mouth open, and jaw slack as he watches me.
And then I pass out.
Chapter 9
Iwake up slowly, like I’m being dragged back into my body against my will.
First thing I notice: I’m not dead.
Second thing: I’m in a bed.
Third thing: notmybed.
I blink up at the ceiling, which is familiar in that vague, déjà vu kind of way. There’s a faint crack in the corner near the light fixture. I turn my head to see soccer posters, old, faded ones with the same familiar heroes I grew up with. There’s a shelf with a couple of trophies that I remember teasing Colten about the last time I came over.
Oh.
I’m in Colten’s room, the one he grew up in.
I push myself up on my elbows, feeling vaguely more human, but then squint at my lap. Are those—? No way.
Power Scouts bedsheets. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, not that I would bother to. I need to laugh in his face about this.
"He’s never used these when I visited before," I mumble, brushing my hand across the colorful duvet.
Footsteps approach from the hallway, and I look up as Colten steps into the room. He pauses when he sees me awake, surprise flickering across his face.
Then he's moving, closing the distance in seconds. He sets a glass of water on the nightstand before sinking into the chair by the bed and leaning toward me.
“How do you feel?” he asks, voice tight, his eyes scanning my face like he’s marking everything wrong with me. “Dizzy? Nauseous? We can still go to the hospital, I just—my mom said it was probably exhaustion, but you passed out, and the combine is coming up, so if you want to go—”
