My throat was dry. “I swear the barista laughed at me and called me a sugar addict under her breath.”
“Maybe she was laughing at your plain black drip coffee,” she said through a laugh, before pointing to the piano behind her. “Set it there, will you?”
I stepped in behind her to do just that, but she turned too quickly and knocked the cup straight out of my hand—coffee splashing over both of us.
“Of course,” she said flatly. Her pale shirt turned translucent and stained brown while heat soaked through the front of my jeans. “Oh my God—Jude.” Solace dropped to her knees before the coffee had even stopped spreading, grabbing a wad of paper towels from beside the sink. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I crouched beside her, reaching for another handful. “Seriously.”
“No, it’s not.” She swiped frantically at the puddle creeping across the tile, her shoulders tense. “Are you okay? Are your legs okay?”
Despite myself, I laughed once under my breath. “I may never walk again, but I’ll be fine.”
She shot me a horrified look that only made it harder not to smile.
“Come on,” I said, taking the soaked paper towels from her hands, and tossing them in the trash. “I’ve got a spare shirt in the Jeep.”
“The bell’s going to ring,” she protested, though she let me lace my fingers through hers.
“That’s fine.” I pulled her toward the door.
“I can’t—“
I gave her an exasperated look. Solace was nothing if not a rule follower. She’d had perfect attendance since practically the sixth grade if you didn’t count those few times she’d gotten sick enough. And even then, she’d still come to school only to get sent home early. My gut curdled at the thought of her leading warm-ups in front of the whole band this way. Or sitting through the rest of her classes. Nope. No way.
“Your bra is showing, Sol.”
She glanced down. “I think I have a sweatshirt buried in my backpack.”
“It’s almost ninety degrees out. I have a shirt you can change into real quick.”
“Ugh—fine.”
I’d parked in the staff lot outside the band room door—something she’d probably scold me for if she weren’t busy trying to cover herself, arms crossed tight over her chest as she hurried to the car. I pulled her around to the driver’s side, unlocking the door before grabbing my gym bag from the passenger seat. I usually kept a spare set of clothes stashed in here just in case, but all I came up with was a ratty pair of sweats and—
“Here you go.” I handed her my soccer jersey where my name was stamped in block letters across the shoulders:RANSOM.It wouldn’t exactly pair with her mini skirt, but it was better than nothing.
She hesitated and then dropped her arms. I couldn’t help the quick, stolen glance at the hot pink bra now unmistakably visible through her shirt.
“I am not wearing that.” Worry flickered across her face.
“Why not?”
“What will people think?”
I shrugged. “That you’re wearing a shirt? I don’t know. Just—put it on.” She shot me a sidelong glance and I was worried she would actually say no. I couldn’t help noticing again how weird she was about my jerseys. It had taken a stupid amount of convincing during football season to get her into one for a single game. “You’re soaked and you stink of coffee.”
Her fingers came up, brushing over the letters, lingering there a second longer than necessary. “Coffee doesn’t stink.”
“It’s just a shirt, Solace.”
She huffed softly, still turning the jersey over. “Won’t Taya mind?”
I rolled my eyes. Girls were so weird about sports jerseys. “She’s not talking to me right now.” Without thinking, I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. Something in her face shifted, and it hit me before I could look away.Shit. Maybe this is why girls were weird about jerseys.“She’ll come around,” I added, a little too quickly.
I hoped to God she didn’t read into any of it.
I was being an asshole, but it would be easier if she didn’t. If she just stayed Sol. Easy and familiar and mine in a way that didn’t ask for more than what I already knew how to give. Instead, everything about her was shifting under foot. At space camp this last summer we’d taken a turn in the zero-gravity chamber. My stomach flipped the second my feet left the metal floor with nothing to hold onto. I kind of felt like that now—weightless and floating without a tether.
