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He laughed softly. “The drugs were easier to hide. And they made me feel better about… everything.” His grip on me tightened. “I didn’t want any of this. And I know that’s a privileged thing to say—but from the minute I was born, my whole life plan was laid out for me. I haven’t gotten to decide any of it. None of what I want matters. Sometimes I feel like my mom broke me when she broke my guitars. Like she just snapped me into pieces and rebuilt me into the perfect son.”
I rolled over onto him a little more, resting my chin on his chest so I could gaze up at him.
“Maybe that’s why I started doing harder drugs. It was a way of breaking the mold they wanted to put me in without them even knowing.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, I wasn’t breaking the mold. I didn’t find out till later, but my dad did coke for like five years. So I guess I was following my predetermined track whether I knew it or not.”
“Why do you let them tell you what to do?” I asked, but I already had a good idea of the answer. My conversations with Jacqueline about ballet were burned into my mind, and I remembered the feeling of helplessness when she’d told me in a calm voice that she wouldn’t allow me to pursue it.
There are strings attached to everything.
“I think about that a lot. And I hate myself for giving up my dreams, but—they’re my family, you know? If my parents cut me out of their lives, I’ll never see Sebastian and Meredith again.”
My skin was starting to get cold everywhere it wasn’t pressed against Elijah, and a small shiver worked its way through me as I bit my bottom lip, gazing at him.
“So what does the tattoo mean? You must’ve known you were gonna get it if you got the feathers first. Why did you get the rest of it?”
He stared into the darkness, a look of defeat passing over his face. “Because it’s how I feel. Like there’s some true purpose that’s meant for me, but no matter what I do, I’ll end up disappointing someone.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to erase the sadness in his expression—wasn’t sure I wanted to—so I just pressed a kiss to his chest and closed my eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart against my ear.
We dozed off, our bodies tangled up together, but I woke again when it was still dark out, the sky outside just beginning to lighten to a blue-black. Elijah’s arms were wrapped around me, but when I wriggled free, he just shifted slightly and made a low noise before settling back into stillness.
Quietly, I gathered up my clothes and slipped them on, leaving my hoodie unzipped in case pulling up the zipper made too much noise. My phone sat on the coffee table, and I grabbed it and tapped in my password. Then I glanced down at Elijah’s sleeping form.
His face was peaceful, even though the bruises looked worse now that they’d had time to settle. His hair was still unruly, and he looked entirely human and vulnerable sprawled naked on his couch.
For a second, I had an urge to take my clothes off again and lie back down next to him, to burrow into his embrace and feel his skin against mine. It would make me vulnerable too, but maybe together, we’d have a chance against the world.
I didn’t though.
Instead, I made sure my flash was off, then held my phone high over the couch and took several pictures. Then I shoved it into my back pocket and crept out, closing the door slowly so it made only a soft snick.
The Oak Park campus was deserted as I made my way back to the Wastelands. I’d only slept for a few hours, and I felt both exhausted and wired at the same time. There was a slight soreness between my legs, and my entire body still felt different somehow, changed forever.
The things Elijah had told me kept bouncing around in my head—about his family, his tattoo, and his time in rehab. I’d known a little piece of it, but he had filled in a lot of blanks.
Why did he tell me all that?
My footsteps slowed as I neared Prentice Hall, and I glanced back toward Clarendon.
It had almost felt like a peace offering. He had given me information about himself he knew could be damaging—the exact same kind of thing the Princes had spent the previous semester trying to get out of me. But he’d told me willingly, knowing I had every reason to use it against him.
My stomach twisted with a strange, unpleasant sensation as I unlocked the front door and headed up to my room. But I shoved the feeling away as I grabbed the little black notebook from the couch and flipped it open, steeling my spine with determination.
In Elijah’s section, I wrote father did cocaine for five years. Then I added Elijah went to rehab for coke.
His tattoo represents—
But I didn’t finish that line.
The world didn’t need to know that secret.
Chapter 16
When I woke up at nine the next morning, I rolled over and went back to sleep until after noon.
By the time I finally threw the covers off and got up, I felt alert and refreshed. I showered, letting warm water pelt my body as I scrubbed gently at my skin with a loofah. My body still felt different somehow, like I was a snake who’d shed a
n old skin and was now a fresh version of itself. Outwardly the same, but fundamentally changed.
