Page 34 of Nowhere to Hide
As he stands and heads to the door, I find myself standing to open it for him. Then he stops, like there’s something else he wants to say to me and has to consciously decide not to.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I say, breaking the weird silence.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “If she spirals later, text me.”
He recites his number, and I type it in before either of us can make it mean anything.
“It was good of you,” I say. “Thanks, Rowan. For Ivy. For the coffee.”
“Bye, Sloane,” he says, and goes.
The door clicks shut, and I stand there with both hands around a coffee, more confident than ever that he’s not the villain in my story. But that doesn’t make him safe, because I felt the warmth of his grip, and when I pressed in, he didn’t pull away.
And, just like at the Lantern, the moment only broke because I broke it.
That makes him dangerous.
Because a boy who holds still and lets me lean is a boy I’d want to stop performing for. And I know exactly what happens when I stop performing, and I cannot afford the guy who won’t let me hide behind the mask.
Shaking off the thoughts, I go back to Ivy. “You okay?” I say.
She nods and goes quiet for a while. The noodles arrive. We eat on her bed, and she gets another call from Rowan: Aunt Margaret is stable, and their parents are at the hospital. Ivy works through all of it in the way she does, which is in spirals and out loud.
“He’s so annoying,” she says, around a mouthful of noodles. “He had a whole plan before he even showed up here, and it’s just… handled.”
“It’s a good problem to have, Ives,” I say.
“Whatever,” she says, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wish he’d just let me process and combust and figure out my own path. Like, when I broke my collarbone in fourth grade, he just showed up, took me to the nurse, and sat with me. He was just… there. He always is…”
“Doesn’t sound so bad, honestly,” I say, setting my chopsticks down. “I’m not sure he even realizes he’s doing it.”
She stops.
“I have never once thought about that,” she says, her eyes going bright again. “What the fuck?”
I’m quiet for a long time. Then I say, “Has anyone ever asked him if he’s okay?”
She stares at me, then shakes her head and looks down at her noodles.
But am I any better?
Mason grabbed and claimed, Rowan helped and steadied, and I called it the same.
It wasn’t.
So I pick up my phone, open the thread with Mason, and type.
Sloane: We’re not going to work.
I send it.
nine
ROWAN
Gavin’spregame speech is eleven words.
“Let’s play our game, boys. Stay sharp, compete hard out there.”
