Pan drops his head on my shoulder.
His skin, touching my skin.
Just barely. But still.
I almost don’t dare to move.
“I know,” I finish.
I swallow.
For a moment, we just stand there.
“Pan!” shrieks a Mermaid. “We’rewayyyy-ting.”
“Gimme a second,” he yells back, lifting his head. “I’m just talking to my best friend, okay?”
My best friend.
My throat feels like it’s going to close. “Knock it off.” I push him the rest of the way off of me, and Pan stumbles, but doesn’t quite leave. “Just go,” I add, not meeting his eyes. “Have fun.”
Pan smirks. “Oh, I will.” He bites his lip, still not leaving. A sheepish look I kind of recognize. He lowers his voice. “Hey, you don’t happen to have?—”
Oh. “Yeah.” Of course. I fish the foil packet out of my wallet and fling it at him before he can finish the sentence.
“Knew you would.” He grins. “Legend.”
Then he salutes me, condom between his fingers, and disappears.
When I finally get upstairs,it’s just Kit lying on the couch with his feet on the armrest. The end of some action movie flashes on the TV, the volume low, but he’s not watching—he’s reading, I realize, one of the purple-covered books from Wendy’s library stack.
“Oh, hey,” he says, yawning. “How’s the uh…” He nods at my arm.
I look down.God, I keep forgetting about this.“Fine,” I say, touching it gently. It barely even hurts, I think. “How was, uh…” I glance at the couch, which besides him, is empty. “How was she?” I finish.
“Fine.” Kit drops the book back on the table—Joan of Arc—and pushes himself up. “She went to bed kind of early. Said her stomach hurt.”
Guilt knots in my stomach. “Oh,” I say. “No, totally. I feel bad that I…”
“Eh.” Kit shrugs, then stretches his arms above his head. “Think that’ll do it for me too.” He shakes his wrist and looks at his watch. “Fucking hell.” He gets to his feet and yawns again, then looks a bit embarrassed. “Uh, night, Tink,” he says, and nods before heading to his and Fox’s room.
“Yeah, night,” I say.
I head for my room too, but pause at the end of the hallway, right before where the last little bit tapers off to the spare room. Before I think better of it, I take the last two steps. Rap my knuckles softly against the door. “Hey, Wendy?”
No answer. She’s probably asleep.
I lick my lips. “Sorry I didn’t make it up in time,” I add, just in case she can hear me. “Kit says you’re not feeling well? So…I hope you feel better,” I finish lamely. “And, uh, if you need anything, just come let me know, I guess.”
I wait another second or two longer. There’s a rustling sound on the other side of the door, like she’s turning over in bed.
“Okay,” says a tiny voice. “Thanks. I will.”
“Tink?”
The voice at my door is so light and fragile, it almost terrifies me.
Wendy?
