Page 57 of Nowhere to Hide
Whatever they said to each other, I saw Rowan tense up, and I saw Mason smirk, and that told me all I needed to know. Somewhere while watching it, I decided I wanted to stand by Rowan the way he stood by me at the party.
The Halden Girl is screaming. She’s loud and articulate, and she has very specific opinions about making a scene. She’s ranting about how I didn’t learn from the last time I was this visible and what it cost me.
Sit down, she says. You have not thought this through. Think about what anyone with a phone could be doing right now.
My mother’s voice is in there, too, somewhere underneath.Sloane, think about what you’re about to do.
I keep walking.
A few yards away now, Mason still hasn’t moved, and now Rowan has turned his head, too. He’s watching me approach with something resembling awe, because he’s spent his whole life being the one who crosses rooms.
I don’t look at Mason. I look at Rowan, take his hand, and don’t say anything, because anything I could say right now would be smaller than this. Then I go up on my toes and kiss his cheek.
It’s not fast. Not nervous. I kiss him the way you kiss someone when you don’t give a damn who sees, and I hold it longer than necessary because I want anyone watching to understand the order of operations.
“Hi,” Rowan says.
I look up at him and smile. “Hey.”
Then I turn my head and look at Mason.
He smirks, just a little. “Cute,” he says.
It’s the exact expression Harrison used to wear. Theyou’re-overreactinglook, the same one he gives his friends when he tells them how crazy or loud or slutty you were. The look built to make sure he wins and you lose, no matter how you react to it.
Same trick, different boy.
“Fuck off, Mason,” I say.
He lets out a soft laugh and starts to go, then half-turns. “You pickedhimoverme.”
“I did,” I say.
He scoffs and walks away, hands in his pockets, easy as anything.
“Hey.” Rowan’s voice at my ear, low. “Forget him, okay?”
I look at his face. “Sure.”
He watches me, checking whether I’m bothered. But I press my forehead against his shoulder, and his bare skin is hot from the sun and smells like grass and sweat. His free hand comes up to rest against the back of my head. Then somebody wolf-whistles.
“About time,” Seb yells nearby, raising a can of soda he just pulled from the cooler. “Pay up, Moretti. I had September.”
“Fucking hell,” Luca calls back, feigning outrage. “Rowan couldn’t wait until October, could he?”
“I was the first to guess it.” Theo stamps his foot once, as if he’s marking the spot. “But this marks the occasion. Right here. Hallowed ground.”
“Theo was not the first to know,” I say, drawing a laugh from Rowan. “I believe that was the security guard in the library.”
Across the green, a different head has turned and stayed turned.
Ivy is on her knees on the blanket, and I can read her like a headline. Her hair is a mess, her hands are limp in her lap, and she looks like she just received a diagnosis or a bad grade and she’s processing it.
“Oh no,” I say.
“Mm,” Rowan mumbles.
“Hold my hand harder.”
