If he hadn’t turned up his stupid music so loud, then maybe he’d have already realized that Chasm was here.
With some reluctance, I take a seat beside Chasm and pull his iPad into my lap.
“In exchange for this,” he starts, and I look up because I just knew it. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, is there? “Don’t tell anyone about what you saw at my house.” The way he looks at me, there’s a tenderness to his expression, like he’s afraid of being found out. As if being a nice guy and helping drunk girls out is something to be ashamed of.
Unless … he’s protecting the girls and not himself?
Since Lumen knew the girl Chasm took to his room (she knows everyone), I texted from her phone to see how she was doing. He was great, gave me my space, took me home in the morning. No wonder all the girls like him. There’s something distinctly sexy when a guy isn’t a creep or a perv. So why put on the display like he is, flashing his feathers like a peacock every day at school?
I just stare at him.
“You’re a virgin, I get it. I won’t tell anyone.” I look back down at the iPad, but the letters may as well be an alien language for all that I understand them. Deep breath, Dakota. You watch plenty of anime, you got this.
“Did I say I was a virgin?” Chasm grits out through his teeth, reaching over and curling my fingers tightly around the Apple pencil. My hand burns where he touches me, but I refuse to give him any indication that I’m in the process of catching on fire. “Just don’t tell anyone about Friday night. Write. I have other things to do today.”
“You’re a virgin,” I repeat, but I do as he says. He doesn’t respond to me, but whenever my attention starts to wander, Chasm flicks me in the nose and I throw the pencil at him. When he packs up to leave however, I look down at the worksheet and realize with a start that I’ve started to memorize most of the characters. Three hours have passed, and I barely noticed.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he tells me, standing up and collecting his things. As he turns to leave, I finally remember what it is that I meant to ask him about last night.
“Hey, did you ever …” God, this is going to sound weird. “Did you ever prank me by dragging me out to the woods at night?” I look up to see the expression on his face and see him staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“God, you’re weird,” he replies with a roll of his eyes, stepping into the hall and closing my door behind him. I stare after him for a moment and then grab my phone, setting it up on the tripod and making sure that it’s facing directly toward my bed.
If there is someone creeping around in the dark, I’ll catch them eventually.
I’d easily forgotten Paul’s casual mention of the talk show until several weeks later, when Tess’ knock wakes me up at an ungodly hour. What is wrong with these people?! Are they all androids? Do they not need to sleep?
I force myself out of bed, opening the door to find my biological mother waiting for me.
“I was hoping we might go out for breakfast together today?” she asks, and even though the idea of spending a day alone with her makes my anxiety spike through the roof, I’m also relieved. As much as Tess says she loves me, all of the things she’s done thus far regarding me have really been for her. What was best for her. She hasn’t really tried to get to know me.
A small spark of hope fires in my chest as I mull the thought over and fight back my initial reservations. A mistake I’ll regret later, I’m sure.
I end up nodding and yawning at the same time.
“That sounds nice,” I admit, because it does. It isn’t that I don’t want to get to know Tess or her other kids. It’s just … why did she have to rip me away from my family, from everything that I knew? Just to bring me someplace where I feel like an afterthought or a relic at best, a burden or an inconvenience at worst. It’s been an entire month since I last spoke to my grandparents, and I feel more homesick than ever.
“Meet me downstairs in an hour,” she says, and then pauses, still dressed in pale blue silk pj’s with flowy pants and a matching cami. She gives my Overwatch pajamas a curious sort of look before grimacing slightly. Last week, she made a light suggestion about dying my hair a more natural color; I ignored her. “Oh.” Tess turns away and then pauses to glance back at me, like she’s just thought of something. “And wear something nice. We’re going to the club.”
