I snort. “And you two tormented each other constantly from what I hear?”
“Torment or foreplay?” she asks cheerfully and we both laugh.
“I’d love to go to college, but it’s more theoretical than anything.” I snag the Brown University magazine. It’s dog-eared but not nearly as much as the Princeton one. If Emory sees it, she’ll know how many times I’ve imagined being a girl who went there.
“Why theoretical?”
“I did a year at a community college before I dropped out to support us. Before David died.” I grab the Princeton magazine and set it on my drawn-up knees. “I loved it and I wanted more, but by then it was too late. I want the whole experience, Emory. I want the bookbag and the dusty library and the classes I might never use. As many as possible. But bodyguards don’t need to go to college.”
She squeezes my knee.
“It’s pretty wonderful. I want it for you too.”
I tap the magazine. “Tristan is in this one, you know.”
“He is?” She gives me a surprised glance. I hold the magazine up. “Oh yeah, he bragged about that.”
“Of course he did.” There’s a skip in my chest as I turn to the page. On it, Tristan is in a group of students, with a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. He’s laughing and he stands a full head taller than everyone next to him. He’s larger than life, even in this grainy picture. I imagine what itwould be like to be one of the girls in it. One who speaks multiple languages and reads classic literature. Someone who joins the swim team and makes out with him while studying.
As equals. As someone who belongs in his world.
“Emory?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever wanted something you already had? But not in the way you had it?”
She gazes at me steadily before her face twists. “Oh, Katie.” She scrambles up to sit next to me and lets me put my head on her shoulder.
The squeeze of her hand on my other shoulder nearly makes me cry.
Because Emory is the best person in the world after Tristan, she doesn’t press further, she just sits with me until rain starts slapping the windows and Aiden starts calling.
“I better go.”
I give her a hug and she hugs me back, tightly enough to nearly leave bruises.
And then I’m alone.
I lie on the floor, my heart slowly thudding as I listen to the rain. Tristan deserted me. We hooked up once, he promised nothing would change, and he immediately deserted me. He’s my best friend. He swore he’d always be there for me, and he fucking lied.
Suddenly, the anger is choking me. I scramble up. I don’t ever let myself feel this way. Anger, resentment, frustration. None of it serves me. I keep moving forward. I don’t confront people. I’m too busy trying to be liked, to be kept, to bechosen.
But right now I feel like I’m 90 percent rage, 10 percent Katie. I stride into my room and start pulling on my clothes.Normally, I’d pick something comfortable, but tonight, I want to dress to kill. I pick a silky blue dress with thin straps. I’ll be soaked, but I don’t care.
I clatter down the steps, and by the time I’ve made it to the grass between my apartment and Tristan’s house, I know I’ve made the right choice. The dress is plastered to my skin. I feel the storm on the outside, just like I feel it on the inside.
I’m nearly halfway to Tristan’s house when I see him, just a wavering shape in the rain.
He approaches slowly, hands shoved into his pockets, face uncertain. He’s soaked too, in just an overcoat and sweatpants. His hair curls at the ends, the golden brown darkened and dripping onto his chest. I track the drops down his tan skin, over the ridges of his stomach and into the hair at his navel.
Even angry, I want him.
“Hi.” He swallows.
“Hello. I’m really mad at you.”
He winces, the crease below his lower lip flattening in misery. “I know.”
