I’m in his jersey.Goldingis across my shoulders. His number is on my back. I keep forgetting and then remembering does the same small violent thing in my chest each time.
Inside, a girl is laughing the way girls only laugh at one in the morning.
I make myself speak. “I can sleep on the couch.”
“No.”
“Blue —”
“Take the bed.”
“Blue, you don’t have to —”
“Mel.”
There it is again. The second time in two minutes, and I close my eyes because if I keep them open, the vodka is going to start talking for me.Oh, bad idea.My head’s spinning, so I open my eyes and look at my hand in my lap and grab the hem of the jersey. It’s so long on me, so I glance at his legs and wonder how he can fit this thing. He’s well over six feet, and his legs are long. My God, the length of his hip to his knee extends far out.
“Okay,” I mutter.
He nods. He doesn’t saygoodorthank you.He just nods.
We sit on that swing for another full minute. The chain creaks. The cold’s gotten into my legs in a real way now. My toes are numb.
I shiver.
He sees it and stands first. “Let’s get you inside.”
He holds the back door open. His other hand goes toward the small of my back — and then stops, the hand floating an inch off the jersey before he thinks better of it and lets it drop. I see the whole thing in my peripheral vision.
He almost did. He didn’t.
I walk through.
The kitchen hits me in the face — warm, loud, the smell of beer and Percy’s punch — and I’m three steps in before a hand grabs my arm.
“There you are.”
Mila.
She doesn’t look at Blue behind me.
“We’re calling an Uber back home.”
“My home?”
She nods. “Penelope’s getting her coat.”
I lean in and whisper, “I was going to stay here.”
She gives me a face I’ve been getting since high school. Eyebrows up. Mouth flat.
“Why,” she whispers.
“Gianna’s staying. Lucy’s staying. I thought —”
“No. No, no, no.”
I lean in again and whisper, “He promised he’d be different.”
