Page 33 of The Knight (Endgame 2)
Chapter NineteenHarper and I order a pizza with everything on it. If we’re not getting wasted, let’s at least load up on carbs and dairy. A movie beneath static on the small TV.
“I didn’t even know there was still this kind of station, like it’s not cable.”
I finish off the crust on my third slice. “Me neither. It’s kind of fun not having a guide station. Or really having that many things to choose from. You get what you get.”
“Like Chatroulette meets Netflix.”
A snort escapes me. “We are truly ridiculous.”
She leans back against the headboard. “And stuffed. I’m done.”
I peek under the lid of the box. “There’s still half a pizza in here. We should offer it to Will.”
“I already invited him inside when the pizza guy came. He told me to fuck off.”
He isn’t winning any personality awards, but I have a soft spot for the guy who spends most of the time outside my door. He has a lost quality, as if he’s waiting for something he knows will never come. He’s not waiting for half of a cheap pizza, but it’s all I offer him outside the door.
With a reluctant nod of thanks he accepts the box, still sitting against the building.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside? We’re watching Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks be cute together.”
“Sleepless in Seattle?”
“You’ve Got Mail.”
He shakes his head. “Those kinds of movies piss me off.”
“Ones with happy endings?”
“Ones with rich people,” he says roughly.
Okay then. I duck back into the room and curl into bed beside Harper. I’m not looking forward to when she goes back to school. Mostly we don’t talk about it, preferring to trade insults and threats instead. I know she’s here partly to escape her own demons—namely, her stepbrother. But it’s been an incredible solace to have someone on my side during this time.
A true friend, the kind my mother had.
We watch Meg Ryan struggle to save her store, only to lose everything.
“This is hitting a little close to home,” I say.
“Yeah, but she had that store for so long. You have your whole life ahead of you. A career. A family. All that jazz. This is not the end.”
“This is not the end,” I repeat, tasting the words. It’s comforting. “I think I need to get that tattooed on me somewhere so I don’t forget.”
“But how awkward will it be once it is the end and you’ve still got a tattoo that’s wrong.”
A loud knock comes from the door.
I glance at her. “Did you order another pizza?”
She shakes her head. “I’m never eating again.”
“Maybe Will changed his mind about the movie.”
I open the door to find a standoff outside. Tension radiates from the bodies of three different men, violence simmering in the air. Will stands in front of the door, blocking my view. In the narrow space between his arm and the doorframe I can see Justin standing there, blue eyes blazing, dark shadows beneath making him look sinister.
And behind him I recognize Harper’s stepbrother, looking just as fierce. Christopher has a clean-cut style that’s completely betrayed by the coldness of his eyes. He’s warm enough to me, but when it comes to his stepsister his temperature drops below zero. Where Gabriel Miller is a lion, wild and golden, Christopher’s is a sleek panther with dark eyes and black hair.
“Uh, Harper?”
“Who is it?” she asks, digging through the makeup bag that has her nail polish. “And what do you think about Helter-Skelter as a color? It matches my mood.”
“You better come here. Things are about to get weird.”Chapter TwentyIt takes a few taut minutes to convince Will that these guys aren’t going to hurt us. At least, not physically. Both of them have the power to wreck us emotionally, though Harper would swear that isn’t true. But she looks pale as Christopher demands to know why she didn’t return his calls.
“And why hasn’t your phone been on?”
Her eyes narrow. “How do you know it’s been off?”
“Because I had it traced,” he says flatly. “And there was no signal. None at all.”
“I can’t believe you had me tracked like an animal! And that’s why it was off. Because you’re insane.”
“I wouldn’t have to track you if you didn’t do this.” He makes a rough slash with his hand.
“Do what?”
“Run off to the slums with your friend in some kind of psychotic sleepover.”
“Harsh,” I say, stung on her behalf.
He gives me a hard look before turning back to Harper. “We’ll discuss this outside. Alone.”
Then they leave, and it’s only Justin and me in the shitty hotel room. There’s a half-empty bottle of Coke on the nightstand. Textbooks stacked with fashion magazines on the small table. Psychotic sleepover isn’t that far off.
“God, Avery,” Justin says, his voice lower than I remember. Overall he looks harder, leaner. He’s always been fit; being captain of the rowing team has its compensations.
