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Barclay rubs his smooth chin. “What do you think? Should I offer myself up to soothe her broken heart before she leaves?”
“Just what you like, huh?” I kick my feet up next to his. “Someone who won’t be around long enough to expect a relationship from you.”
Barclay grins and flicks me a thumbs-up sign. “Bingo.”
My phone vibrates.
I glance at the screen and stiffen.
Barclay reaches over and hooks an arm around my neck. “Is that Card Girl shooting one last shot?” He sees my father’s face on the screen and his arm drops immediately. “Oh.”
“Is it…?” Fitz arches an eyebrow.
Barclay does a subtle nod and then yawns. “I just remembered I have an appointment.”
“And I’ve got piano practice.” Fitz checks his watch.
“You don’t have to leave,” I say softly, feeling pathetic as they all stare at me with varying levels of discomfort. “It won’t take long.”
“You know me. I’ve got chicks to pick up, dirty fantasies to satisfy. I’m a busy man.” Barclay slaps my back, his black ponytail swinging over his shoulder. “But I’ll catch you later.”
“You can swing by tonight,” Fitz offers. “If you feel like having company, I’m working on a new piece for the gallery and I could use your opinion.”
I nod.
My phone goes still.
A second later, it vibrates again.
Fitz and Barclay leave.
Miles lingers.
“I know you need to take that, but…” He runs a hand over his shaved head. His fingers are dark and broad. Fitz is always on his back about how perfect they’d be to play piano. “I just…” Miles blinks. “We’re cool, right?”
“Of course.”
“Shanel drives me a little crazy, but I don’t want that to get between us.” He offers his fist.
I bump it. “We’re good.”
With a small smile, Miles leaves.
Once I’m alone, I stalk to the window and return my father’s call.
Brighton Academy sprawls in front of me. Green lawn. Stately buildings. A wooden bridge suspended over a small lake. Far in the distance, sunlight glints on the crests of silver blue waves.
This island is my prison.
And Dad is the one who banished me here.
With a deep breath, I grip the phone tight and speak, “Hello?”
“Son.”
The hole in my chest pulses. “What do you want?”
“I heard you got hurt in that earthquake.”
