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“Yeah, you’re right.” I let Alex pick up my hand, curling his warm fingers around my clammy palm. PDA was rare for him—for both of us. We never hugged, kissed, or held hands in public, but here he was, grabbing my fingers without hesitation. My thoughts flashed back to Connor’s hand wrapping around my arm, his other fingers gripping my hip, all to stop me from falling. The only reason my pulse stirred then was because I almost fell to my death, and the reason my pulse didn’t stir now was because Alex’s question left me shellshocked. “I’m sure Ava and Rachel are waiting.”
I let him lead me down the hall, hoping against hope that Connor hadn’t heard any of that conversation.
The more I thought about Jade bringing up freshman year, the more confused by it I became.
What purpose would Jade have, bringing it up to Alex?
“You’re a million miles away right now,” Connor said as we drove down Main Street. He had his elbow propped against the window, cheek pressed into his upturned palm. “Probably not the best time to zone out, huh?”
I glanced down at the worn leather steering wheel, gripping it tighter. “I wasn’t zoning out.”
“Uh-huh.” Connor slouched in my passenger seat, a giant in the tiny car. His knees were folded awkwardly, legs too long to fit underneath the glovebox. He looked like an adult trying to squeeze into a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe. “Is there an airbag in this ancient beast?” he asked, rapping his knuckles on the top of the dash.
“Nope.”
Connor tugged on his seatbelt taut across his chest. “You want to tell me where we’re going?”
“We’re almost there.” Traffic in Brentwood’s heart of the city was heavy since most people were getting off work, one of the cons of meeting Connor for tutoring at four instead of right after school. Four-thirty, really—his glistening brown locks and sandalwood scent hinted he’d used the extra few minutes for a quick shower.
Ever since Mom started working at Center Inspire, I’d only been by a handful of times. The first time was when she’d given the whole family a tour of the facility and all the art exhibits. Halfway through, I snuck off to a deserted corner and read through a book on my phone, bored nearly to tears by the canvases and sculptures. On any given day after school, Jozie practically lived between those walls, soaking up whatever inspirational juices—her words—she could from the art.
Not me. I always felt too overwhelmed by the colors, the mediums.
But for a Monday afternoon, it would be the perfect place for a tutoring session.
“It’s called Center Inspire. It’s an art gallery.”
“Brentwood has an art gallery?”
His thoroughly shocked tone caused a wave of amusement to hit me so suddenly that I couldn’t stifle my snort. “It’s mostly visited by the elderly or trendy, aspiring artists.”
“I, admittedly, am neither.”
“One thing we have in common.”
Connor glanced over at me, as if contemplating whether or not I was being serious. Surely, he couldn’t be surprised. Nothing about me screamedartist!“Your sister was an artist, right?”
“You knew Jozie?”
“Brentwood’s big, but notthatbig. She was prom queen last year, right?”
She hadbeen prom queen, but it was one of those facts that I’d completely forgotten about until he said it. It wasn’t somethingshe’dbeen all too excited about, despite saving the plastic tiara on a shelf in our bedroom. It sat there now, collecting dust.
Connor readjusted his legs, banging his knee on the glovebox, and causing it to pop open. As he tried to get it to latch, he said, “I’ll be honest, you and your sister are nothing alike.”
“Because she’s pretty and I’m not? Because she has perfect vision and I don’t?” Instinctively, I edged my glasses up higher on my nose with a knuckle. “She was popular enough to win prom queen, and it’s not even something I’d bother dreaming about?”
Connor’s face pinched as he raised one freaked-out eyebrow. “I was going to say because she’s artsy and you like math, but it seems we’ve approached a sore topic.”
I pinched my lips together and, without another word, I twisted the dial up on the stereo.
We rode the rest of the way to Center Inspire in silence, which, admittedly, wasn’t that far. I slowed down when the boxy gallery came into view, all angles and modern lines, but my stomach dropped at the parking. Or lack thereof. I’d been hoping for a street spot that I could pull into, but there was only one spot along the curb—one that would’ve required coaxing the old coupe into a parallel park.
I circled the block slowly, hoping in the three minutes it took to go through the lights, someone would’ve moved.
Connor turned to watch the art gallery pass for the second time, pressing a finger to the window. “Is that not the place that we’re going?”
Bitterly, I flipped on my blinker, beginning yet another rotation of the block. “I’m waiting for parking to free up.”
