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"She says that too," I say.
"So maybe you should get the fuck over yourself and believe her," Luna says.
I don't have a comeback, so I settle into the silence. I let their words bounce around my brain, melt the ice around my heart.
We drive through Long Beach, North Orange County, past the 55.
To the Jamboree exit.
"I need to do something first," I say.
Patrick and Luna exchange a look.
"But there's no way I can do it here," I say. "It's not like there are any tattoo shops in fucking Irvine."
Patrick smiles. "Good thing I stocked supplies at Imogen's place." He looks to Luna. "And he thought that excuse would delay us?"
"I don't know. He looks pretty happy to me," she says.
"More scared than happy," Patrick says.
"Shut the fuck up and put some ink on my skin, huh?"
Patrick laughs. "Your wish is my command."
Chapter Forty-Six
VAL
There's one good thing about a breakup.
All the free time, and all the tension in my chest, need a physical solution. Since the thought of touching another man makes me sick, I'm here, at the school gym, for the fourth time this week.
And you know what?
Working out is great.
I avoided the activity for years because people always assumed I was incapable, or they'd say dumb shit like "good for you, for trying to be your best self."
And, sure, that's true of anyone undertaking a new hobby or trying to manage their level of stress in healthy ways.
But no one says it to thin girls.
After forty minutes of hills on the treadmill, I move through my full-body dumbbell routine. I thought lifting weights was boring, but it turns out I need intense concentration to maintain my form. Perfect for keeping my thoughts away from how badly I miss Dare.
When I finish, I'm too tired to hurt. I walk back to my apartment, I shower and dress, and I set up with one of my textbooks.
Sweet, sweet studying.
Another way to keep my thoughts in order. Only my concentration is shot. It's not just the breakup. My coursework is hard. Really hard. I'm great with film techniques and literary criticism. Psychology even.
But when it comes to diagrams of the brain, I'm way out of my depths.
I'm getting there a little more every day, but I'm behind, and I need to really devote myself if I want to catch up to my peers.
After half an hour, I take a break, I pop a TV dinner in the microwave, check my cell while I wait.
A text from Luna.
Luna Locke: Are you home? Because I have a delivery for you. I promise you'll like it, but you can return to sender if you're not in the mood.
An I'm sorry, I can't note. Or a love letter. Or a box of my stuff. Or another vibrator.
Or…
No.
Val: I'm home. But if I don't like it, I'll have to trash your ride.
Luna Locke: Brian's car? Or Brian himself?
Val: Bri is with you?
Luna Locke: And the other Dickson of note.
Val: Their dad?
Luna Locke: Guess again.
Val: Are you sure I'll like it?
Luna Locke: Unless you changed your mind about what you said last time.
Val: I didn't.
Luna Locke: Five minutes.
I check my outfit in the mirror. Leggings and a sweatshirt. Not cute. Whatever happens, I need to look cute.
I scan my closet. Grab the first thing that speaks to me.
The blue dress.
It feels right now. It feels safe in a way it didn't before. Maybe he sees that.
Maybe he finally sees how much he helps me, how much I need him.
I slide into my wedges right as the doorbell rings.
"Special delivery," Brian calls. "It's heavy. We're going to need you to sign."
Someone laughs. A woman. Luna, I think.
And someone else. A man but not Dare. This laugh is higher pitched, lighter, softer. Not the full-throated chuckle of Dare's dark sense of humor.
I miss him.
I miss him so badly I can barely see straight.
I open the door.
My eyes go right to Dare.
He looks exhausted. Sexy as hell—his t-shirt is snug against his broad shoulders, and his jeans hug his hips just so—but tired.
"We took the belt off," Brian says. "But we'll put it back on if we have to."
Dare opens his mouth to say something to his brother, but he doesn't manage to find any words.
Brian laughs. "We'll leave you to it." He steps back. Joins Luna and Patrick in their spot on the sidewalk downstairs.
Dare watches them congregate then he turns to me. "Hey."
"Hey."
"You're shivering," he says.
"The sun is going down," I say. "It's getting chilly."
"Give her the jacket," Brian calls.
"You're not supposed to talk," Dare says.
Brian runs up the stairs with Dare's leather jacket, then he runs back down and makes a show of zipping his lips.
"Sorry, they're idiots." Dare holds up the jacket may I.
I nod and offer my arm.
He slides the jacket onto my shoulder. Then the other.
