Page 65

Nathalie touched my arm. “Preston is coming to pick me up. I’m meeting his parents at Christmas. Stay a few minutes and meet him?”

“Sure.” I exhaled, relieved this conversation was over.

Preston. I’d forgotten his name. Not Tad, but close enough. I hoped Nathalie was his Marisol. She deserved that. I put my arm around her in a half-hug and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Want a coffee to go?”

31

Ride or Die

Boston, MA

Louisa

It had been a couple of weeks since my existential crisis in the tent, and I felt like I was Stella getting my groove back. I’d knocked out a ton of new pieces for the Christmas Market, made some progress on the house, and thought a lot about cookies.

To Rachel’s point, exclusivity in the bedroom didn’t bother me—that’s a health thing and I’d never had multiple sex partners at one time. Maybe I have abandonment issues, or maybe I was just born this way, but my whole self rejected the idea of one person being my source of everything.

I was naturally affectionate and sexual. And I was ride-or-die in my bones. But I couldn’t fake romance, even for the right person. It felt completely unnatural and foreign to me. Barf. As much as I wanted to be sexually affectionate with Will, I didn’t think I could get into the “Girlfriend” box for him.

I was also afraid the label would change him—I wanted him the way he was.

What if all of his sweetness made me uncomfortable? What if I hurt him just by being myself? He deserved far more than a couple of good fucks and a question mark before he left.

If I were giving him advice as a friend—and being completely honest with myself—I’d tell him not to start anything with me until after he came home from his deployment. It was too risky. I was risky.

Will was stressed enough about leaving his family. He’d given Hasan a list of home-maintenance tasks to keep up with while he was gone. He’d asked me to help with Mother’s Day for Maeve and Eilidh. Christian offered to wear his dress blues to Ciara’s graduation, to stand in for him. We all promised to check in with them on the anniversary of his father’s death. And every time one of us made plans to fill the cracks he’d leave behind, I felt a small crack form in my heart.

I didn’t know how to be more than friends, but I thought I might like to be the best friend he ever had. Maybe that would be all he wanted, or maybe he would be okay if “Girlfriend” looked a little different for us. Hopefully, I’d have a better idea by the time he got back.

My body was vibrating like I’d slammed an energy drink on an empty stomach—maybe because I had. I’d been giggling to myself all morning, imagining Will’s face when he discovered what I’d done. I nearly blew it before he left—a part of me wanted to see his reaction with my own eyes—but I was taking a page from Will’s book and practicing more patience or delayed gratification these days. So I managed to stay quiet in the hammock until the door had snicked shut behind him.

We were headed to the city to pass out gifts at our group home this weekend, and Will was going to join us. He’d left for PT this morning, a little before 6 AM, and my whole plan had banked on him not turning on the lights so he wouldn’t wake us up. Considerate fool. Great band name.

I heard the lock jiggle. Has wasn’t home, so accepting that I was entirely fucked, I turned my wide eyes and open-mouthed smile to the door when it opened.

Oh, God. It was still flawless on his upper lip.

Something short-circuited in my brain. A sound clawed its way up my throat before I could stop it—half hum, half squeal—and suddenly I was laughing and panicking at the same time.

I’d used long-wear eyeliner to paint the most magnificent baby butler’s mustache on Will’s face while he was sleeping last night. When I saw it there in the light of day, I knew instantly that nothing he was about to do to me would lessen my victory.

His expression was deadpan when he turned and saw himself cosplaying as Gomez Addams in the mirror by the door. I was holding in laughter and dread and a very real sense that I’d made a catastrophic life choice, and somehow all three of those things wanted out at once.

He turned his head back and looked me in the eye, like he just knew that would set me off. I snorted and clamped my hand over my mouth, struggling to breathe and stumbling back against the desk behind me.

“I went to PT this morning looking like this.” Will was trying to keep a straight face, but I knew he thought I was fucking brilliant. “Miller talked to me with a British accent through our entire run.”

I had to cross my legs so I wouldn’t pee my pants from delight.

He walked toward me, and I scooted back onto his desk, scrambling to a crouch and ready for action. He glanced to the side, bit the inside of his cheek, then made a grab for me.

“Parkour!” I yelled, jumping over his shoulder and rolling off his bed. I didn’t even wait for my feet to hit the ground before I was running. I was out the door so fast—escape was my only hope. His laugh was low and feral. My butthole clenched from sheer terror. Last time Will’s revenge was so brutal that I’d had to replace my couch and the prank didn’t even involve public humiliation like this one did. I was so fucked in the funniest way.

He was right on my heels, and I didn’t have time to think. I expertly dodged freshman nerds on their way to morning classes in the hallway, and I scanned the dorm for a women’s restroom. He’d have to starve me out.

This was a classic miscalculation on my part. I’d found one and slammed through the door, relief flooding my limbs, a bratty “Ha-Ha” escaping before I could smother it, but Will plowed right in after me. I screamed a real scream and rushed to lock myself in a stall, but he just put his hands on top and heaved himself right over.

“Oh my god, Will! What if I was pooping?”