Текст книги "Triangle: The Complete Series"

Автор книги: Susann Julieva

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“Neither, smartass.”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he props his head up on his hand. “You don’t think I could take you,

do you?”

To tell the truth, I’m not even sure. I think he could easily take me if surprise was on his side, and if

there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t underestimate J, ever. But hell if I’m gonna admit that

aloud. “I’d like to see you try.”

He rolls me over and has me pinned down faster than I can blink, and I get turned on.

“Screw you,” I grin, far from admitting defeat.

He bends down and whispers into my ear. “I’d rather screw you this time, if you don’t mind.”

God. That’s my undoing. I arch up and kiss him, and he returns it just as hungrily. It’s a matter of

seconds and we’re panting, struggling to pull each other’s clothes off. It’s kinda frantic, and not all that

sexy, and we both end up laughing into each other’s kisses. Sex between us is still a wild, complicated

creature that won’t be tamed. We both like it a little rough, and it’s always a dance along the edge.

Nothing has ever turned me on like that. I swear I dream of him taking me at night, and there’s this

craving for him underneath my skin, all the time. I like to pitch as much as the next guy, don’t get me

wrong, but damn, I’m such a whore for James riding me hard and good. There’s something almost a

little desperate in it, always, and I can see something in his eyes that get so intense then. Like he still

can’t fully believe I’m his, and he wants to leave his mark on me somehow. There’s this rhythm to it that

goes: Love me, love me, never be with anyone else. Want me like I want you. Burn for me like I burn for

you. And damn if that doesn’t turn me on so bad. I know how much he loves to see me come completely

undone at his touch, and I’ve learned to let it show. If that’s what he needs to see to believe in us, fine

by me. I’m done holding back, I’m done with all the masks, all the lies, all this circus. I’m more me

with him now than I’ve ever been.

Then we’re both naked, skin on skin, rubbing against each other, his hands worshipping my skin like

I’m something holy, and I’m so hard I might die if I don’t feel him inside me right this second. I kiss his

neck, suck on his skin, savoring the taste of him, and he moans softly. The moan turns into a pleased

little gasp when I bite down carefully, not breaking the skin, just teasing a little, like he loves it. I can

see it in his eyes, something whispering: Scar me. Leave your mark. Add it to the scars that tell my

story.

Oh, I will, Jimmy Boy. In secret places. Just wait and see.

My skin’s on fire from his touch, and when he reaches for condom and lube, my last coherent

thought is: I can’t wait to do this on the flight to Berlin. Mile high, baby, all the way.

* * *

We’re sitting in the back row at the large theater auditorium. It always smells a little dusty in here. It’s

early evening and the stage is abuzz with people running around, moving the props to their proper

places. The first dress rehearsal is just about to start, and James flat out refuses to write the review of

the play for the school paper.

“I wouldn’t be able to be objective,” he admits with an amused little smile.

I grin. “I’m sure you’d manage, Mr. Editor.”

He gives me a look. “You have leather pants. Your argument is invalid.”

Those damn trousers are far too tight. Seriously, what were the costume people thinking? That blood

circulation is highly overrated? Watch me suffer for my art. “I’ll still demand your honest opinion.”

“Fine. I’ll try to come up with something vaguely coherent.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

He takes me in from head to toe and smiles in a way that makes my pulse race. His eyes seem to say,

proudly: Mine. That’s right, Jimmy Boy. About time you realized.

“Would anyone notice if you took the costume home tonight?” he grins.

I laugh softly. “Kinky. I like.”

“Well, will they?”

“I’m afraid they’re sworn to guard it with their lives.”

J sighs deeply. “Damn. My life, so hard.”

“You’ll have to wait for opening night. Everyone will be too distracted to notice then.”

“That sounds like you have some experience in the costume smuggling business, Mr. Rizzo.”

I wink at him. “Possibly.”

“You dirty dog,” he says fondly, and I shut him up with a kiss.

When we finally manage to part, we sit in comfortable silence for a while, just watching the comings

and goings in the room. Jeff is bellowing orders from backstage that appear to be mostly ignored. I like

the little rush of excitement that always sets in before a show, even if it’s just a full run-through

rehearsal. But James will be watching.

“Will you tell Nick?” he asks quietly, and we both look over to Keller who’s standing to the side of

the stage. Rhea is fiddling with the collar of his shirt that won’t stay down properly, and he’s trying in

vain to evade her hands. He looks good in his costume.

I know immediately that J’s talking about Berlin, and nod. “Yeah. Let me do it.”

“Don’t wait too long. If he hears from somebody else, he’ll be so pissed.”

“I haven’t even told Andie yet.”

“Well, you should then.” James glances at me uneasily. “Unless there’s a reason why you…”

“James.” I shake my head. “I want to go with you, more than anything. I just suck at good-byes.”

He smiles a little, knowingly. “Or we could just skip that part and elope in the middle of the night.”

“Tempting. Far too tempting.”

That’s when Jeff calls everyone to the stage for some final instructions, and I smile at J as I get up.

“Break a leg, sweet Prince,” he calls after me.

I turn around, and wink at him, slipping into character. “Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks.”

I give him my best small Hamlet bow. James pretends to swoon, and I’m on my way, laughing to

myself. I’m gonna miss the theater, no doubt. But with a little luck, I’ll be back on stage some day with

my music. A thought a million times more terrifying, and about three gazillion times more exciting. The

possibility of my most secret dream coming true with time makes my eyes shine with anticipation.

Damn, I cannot wait.

Chapter 14

Break a Leg

NICK: I know I should’ve been paying more attention to the calendar, or the syllabuses for my classes

or something, but I’ve been so focused on getting shit done and working on the show that I completely

forgot about this group project that we’ve been assigned in one of my classes. I can’t ignore it any more

though, when I rush into class and the professor’s there early and already started reading off pairs of

names and the topic of their project assignment.

Great. Just what I needed at this point in the semester. It’s not like I can really complain about it

though, so I just wait to hear my name and hope that I get a partner that will at least pull their own

weight. I’m still actually doing pretty well this semester. I know, I’m pretty surprised by it too. I’m not

going to be winning any academic awards or anything like that, but I think I might be able to swing a

pretty solid B average this semester. It’s not going to help much with the disaster of my cumulative GPA

from my first three semesters, but it might help a little at least.

“Keller.” The professor finally calls my name, and I wait to find out my partner. I haven’t been

paying attention, so I don’t even know who’s left. “And… McKenna. Let’s see if you can maybe keep

us from losing one of our better soccer players.” It takes me a minute – a really confusing minute – to

realize that the prof’s talking to me. And that I’m supposedly the smart one of this pair? Seriously?

I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.

We must’ve been the last pair called, because people are turning to one another, exchanging the

information and shit and talking about meeting up to work. I look around, waiting for someone else to

come to me, because yeah, I admit that I don’t really know anyone’s name in this class. Hell, I don’t

even know if this McKenna is a guy or a girl.

“So I guess I should at least get your number or something, right?” I turn to look a who’s talking to

me, and of course. Of course. Because it’s super jock of the blue eyes and big smile that’s got his phone

out and is waiting for me.

So much for getting a partner that’ll pull their own weight. Now I have to keep a jock from getting

kicked out of school for being an idiot. Like I didn’t have anything better to do with my time.

* * *

We decided to meet at the cafe the next day because it’s really my only day off from rehearsals this

week. Which is great, but I’ve been at the cafe for over an hour now, and he still hasn’t shown up. And

when I tried to call him at the number he left in my phone, it went right to voicemail. If I wouldn’t have

already been here working on other shit, I’d probably be even more pissed off. Not that I’m happy about

waiting around for someone to show up.

So I’ve been here for about an hour when Mister Big Shot Jock decides to finally show up. He

doesn’t even look like he’s that sorry, not that I’m that surprised, really. What else should I expect from

a jock like that. It’s a good thing I don’t have rehearsal today though, or we’d never get anything done

before I’d have to run off again.

SuperJock (sorry, Mac, as he put himself into my phone) gives me a smile as he sits across from me,

and I swear that I can see just about all of his very straight white teeth. I’m not falling for that sort of

shit though. I’ve been dealing with Rizzo’s brand of smiles for over a year now, and Mac’s got nothing

on Riz. I mean, it’s a nice enough smile, I guess. If you like teeth.

He drops a bag next to the table, and it actually sounds like it might have books in it. I don’t think

I’ve ever once seen him carrying a bookbag. But he starts pulling shit out of it – books, papers, a

highlighter – as he angles another smile over at me. “Sorry. I lost track of time starting on some of the

research.”

And damn. The books have pages marked by little flags of paper like he’s actually gone through

them already looking for shit. So much for being too dumb to stay in school. What the hell is up with

this guy? By the time he pulls out a stack of typed notes, I can’t stop the “what the hell?” that slips out.

He smiles at me again (white teeth blue eyes) and shrugs, like this shit happens every day. “Spring’s

my off-season, and I know that something’s got you running around, so I figured I’d get a head start for

us.” And yeah, that explains absolutely nothing, but I guess I shouldn’t complain, right?

Maybe this project won’t be so awful after all.

* * *

Another hour into our meeting, and I’m convinced that there’s been some huge mistake. Mac actually

knows what he’s talking about, keeps pulling books over to make some point, and is writing down

things we both are coming up with so that we can use them in our project. There’s no way that this is the

same guy that needs someone to save his ass from failing.

He’s reading over a few paragraphs when I finally decide to call his ass on it. He looks up when I

clear my throat (blue eyes smile without teeth). “So what’s the deal with you needing help? You know

this shit just as well as I do.” If not better. In fact, his only problem seems to be that he looks up every

time the front door opens, like he expects someone to come in and catch him doing some actual

homework or something.

“I dunno.” And there’s that smile again. The ‘you want to like me’ smile. “I like the project, I guess.”

It’s a lame-ass, cop-out answer, and it doesn’t sound even vaguely true. What I don’t get is why he’d lie

about something like being as stupid as all the other jocks.

The door opens again, and right on cue Mac glances over toward it. “And why do you keep doing

that? You waiting for someone? One of your jock friends? Or maybe the paper wanting to interview you

about doing an actual school project?” A strange look crosses his face, and it finally hits me that he

doesn’t want his teammates knowing that he’s smart. Which is ridiculous, but I guess it makes sense,

too. In a twisted way. “Relax. The paper’s not going to print your sordid academic secrets or anything.”

I shove another book across the table at him and he takes it with a wary look, like he’s not sure

whether or not he should. It’s one that discusses a point he was making earlier, though, so he takes it and

finally starts to read again. It gives me a chance to look over at the last person that had walked into the

cafe. And I see Riz standing about halfway across the room, coffee in hand, like every other time he’s

joined me at my usual table. He’s smiling too (and this is one of the annoying ones), looking between

Mac and I and the mountain of books between us. It’s enough of a smirk that I know I’ll hear about this

later, and I flip him off as he changes direction and heads for the back room. It isn’t loud, but I hear his

laugh from across the cafe.

* * *

Riz never really gets the chance to give me a hard time about it though, because the next few weeks of

the semester are pretty much hell for both of us, I think. Jeff’s got everyone doing rehearsals pretty

much every day now, and for as easygoing of a guy as he usually is, rehearsals running up to a show are

serious business for him. Get caught dicking around, and there’s hell to pay. Not that he can kick anyone

out of the show at this point, but there’s public humiliation in store, at the very least.

And when we’re not rehearsing, I’ve still got papers and projects and normal shit like trying to keep

my life together. I’m doing alright, I think, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy. Especially when one

project still requires me to deal with secret-smart Super Jock. Mac. The little time I have to be at the

cafe, he’s usually there too, stealing part of my table with his books and stacks of notes on our topic.

He’s actually got me feeling a little guilty about not pulling more of my own weight, but when I offer to

take more, he gives me that smile and says that I’ve got enough on my plate and that he’s got it taken

care of. I really have no clue how he knows what’s ‘on my plate’, but I suppose it’s good that he’s

taking care of so much.

I know I’m going to owe him for doing so much on this project. I tried to bring it up once, but he just

laughed at me and told me to grab him a coffee. I know it’s messed up, and just asking for a beating

from the entire soccer team, but I actually caught myself thinking about us getting coffee sometime

when we’re not studying.

Because thinking about dating a straight jock is exactly what I need in my life right now.

* * *

Dress rehearsal hits before anyone is ready for it. That’s the way it always goes, but it seems even worse

this time for some reason. Jeff had planned for us to start our last run-through at 3, but by 2:30, people

are still running around, half in costume, makeup only partially done, and Jeff is looking like he’s about

to lose his mind. It’ll all come together in the end, but it’s hard to be positive when the theater looks like

a brightly costumed war zone.

Strangely enough, dress rehearsal doesn’t hit me as hard this time as it sometimes does. My

costume’s not nearly as complicated as most people’s, so while they’re being laced in and made up, it

leaves me sitting in the auditorium, watching everyone scurry around on stage, and listening to Jeff

shout that we’re starting in 10 minutes, whether people are ready or not. And that he expects people to

hit their cues even if they’re naked.

That’d be quite the show. I know it won’t happen though. Even for dress rehearsal, we’ll all be ready

for the curtain to go up in a few minutes.

Riz finally emerges from backstage, looking like he’s ready for opening night instead of just a

rehearsal, and finds me sitting a few rows back. He comes up, looking every bit the prince that Jeff’s

wanted him to be, and takes the seat next to mine. While everyone else is done up in crazy colors and

make up and even some masks, Riz and I get the luxury of pretty normal clothes – him in black and me

in gray. Jeff had worked a long time with costuming to get that right, saying he wanted Hamlet and

Horatio to be this sane sort of contrast to all the craziness and posturing in the court. I have to say that

I’m not at all jealous of some of the things the other cast has to wear. I’ll take normal gray clothes any

day.

I’m not lucky enough to get a pair of the leather pants that costuming has practically poured Riz into

though. I guess that’s part of a princely wardrobe.

We sit, like an island in the chaos that’s starting to sort itself out, just like I knew it would. I never

would have thought half a year ago that the silence between us could actually be comfortable. I finally

told Doc the other day that I’m pretty sure that Rizzo and I are friends now, and she looked at me like I

was an idiot for taking this long to notice.

I just wasn’t expecting it, okay?

“I’m going with James.” The words slip into the quiet like they’re supposed to make sense, but they

don’t. Of course he’s ‘going with’ James. Not quite how I’d expect him to put it, or why it needs to be

said. I was pretty aware of their reconciliation after Riz stopped being so stubborn and let James talk to

him.

“Going with?” I can’t keep the smirk off my face or out of my voice. “You can say ‘screwing’. I’m a

big boy. I can handle it.” I glance over, teasing. “Or you can call him your boyfriend if you want.” A

stupid smile crosses his face before he shakes his head. He looks at me for a second and then back

toward the stage, where Jeff is frantically trying to wrangle people up. Andrea runs by in just her underdress,

a costumer chasing after her with an armful of colorful fabric. I nearly miss Rizzo’s next words in

the commotion.

“No, I mean I’m going with him. When he leaves for Berlin. They’ve got a music school there, and

because of Grazzo they’ve pulled some strings for me…”

It hits me like a ton of bricks, and I don’t even know what to say. He keeps watching the stage, and I

stare at his profile until Jeff finally notices us sitting there and yells at us to get backstage in our places.

Riz pushes himself up and heads up the aisle, not looking back once, like he knows I’ll be watching

him.

***

Rehearsal doesn’t go nearly as smoothly for me as it should. I try to put Riz’s bombshell out of my

mind, try to think about Hamlet and Horatio, but it keeps sneaking back into my brain at the most

inconvenient points.

The ridiculous part is that I don’t even know what I’m feeling. It’s not good, but I’m not sure why.

And I can’t even be all that surprised, because it’s obvious that neither Riz nor James wants to be apart

for very long now that they’re finally getting their shit together. I’ve even teased them about how

disgustingly couple-y they’ve gotten. And it was always obvious that Riz wasn’t going to hang around

at Woodhaven after graduating. But Berlin is so far.

It’s as Hamlet’s dying in my arms that I finally realize: I don’t want to be alone again.

***

Opening night.

I’m dressed and as close to ready as I suppose I’m going to get. I’m lurking backstage, waiting for

curtain, and it takes Jeff running into me three times before he tells me to fuck off and find Rizzo

because no one’s seen him for close to 15 minutes.

He’s doing his pre-show warm-up in a quiet corner when I find him. He’s in costume and his eyes

are closed, and I know I shouldn’t interrupt him, so I lean against the wall and watch until his eyes open

again and focus on me.

“Ten minutes, they’re saying.” He nods. “They’re also saying that there isn’t an empty seat in the

house.” I don’t know how to tell him that I’m not sure I can do this.

Because I’m terrified. Of the show and of everything that’s going to come after. Summer, next year,

when James and Riz are gone, and I’m left on this campus not knowing anyone other than Mac, and I’m

not even sure if we really count as friends yet, and Marc, who I still see from time to time, running

away from me if he notices me. My own graduation in a few years, and everything after that. And in

this moment, the sheer terror of getting on the stage and finishing out this year is more important than

Riz taking off. I can’t be angry when I’m this scared.

He knows it, too. Anyone that looked at me right now would know it. And I think he’s going to say

something about doing some breathing or some other shit that they teach us in classes, but he doesn’t.

He comes over to me, standing close, and he puts his hand on my shoulder. And in a low voice, he says

one thing.

“Horatio…”

And I don’t know why, but it grounds me. It takes away the part of me that’s making my hands sweat

and my stomach clench. I close my eyes and take a breath, smelling the dusty makeup scent of

backstage laid over that scent that my brain recognizes as Rizzo. And when I open my eyes again,

Rizzo’s still there, Hamlet behind his eyes, smiling at me. I smile too and reach a hand up to lay over

his. I can be mad at him again later.

“The same, my lord, and your poor servant always.”

***

When the final curtain goes down about 3 hours later, we get a standing ovation, and not a single person

is left in their seat.

The post-show rush hits fast and intense once the curtain’s down, with people hugging each other

and congratulating each other on a good opening night. All the little glitches that Jeff will have us

working on in the days to come are forgotten in the high of a job well-done.

Backstage, it seems that the number of people that should be there has grown almost exponentially.

I’m certain that there’s people back there that shouldn’t be – friends and family – but no one’s getting

kicked out, so I just smile at everyone that congratulates me, no matter if I recognize them or not.

There is one familiar face though, Mac is somehow backstage and grinning his bright smile at me as

people jostle around us. He throws a quick glance around, like he’s expecting someone to call him out

for being backstage, and smiles at me again when he realizes no one’s going to. “Good show!” He

nearly has to shout to be heard over the other commotion, and I lean in to hear him better, but before I

can get close, he lifts his hand to hold out a cheap bouquet of daisies to me.

It takes me too long to register that they’re for me. But I reach out to take them, and Mac gives me a

wide, bright grin.

Maybe he could give Riz a run for his money in the smile department.

Chapter 15

Long Way Home

DANNY: It’s early evening and the sun hangs low in the sky when Nick and I leave the theater

department together. There’s no performance tonight, but Jeff made us go over some of our scenes

again. It’s not unusual. A show’s never really finished. It grows and evolves from performance to

performance. My mind is still with Hamlet, and Nick’s quiet too as we walk along towards the dorms.

He hasn’t really been talking to me since I told him that I’m going with James. We pretend nothing’s

wrong backstage, polite to each other in a way we normally never would be. Jeff has noticed that

something’s off in our chemistry. Hence the run-through.

“So, you and Mac, huh?” I finally break the silence.

Nick blinks, then he gives me a wary look. “Mac and I what?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Keller and Sam “the Mac” McKenna, goalie of our soccer team and

acclaimed school hero. Now that’s an odd couple if there ever was one. I arch an eyebrow. “You seem to

hang out a lot.”

“None of your business.” He scowls over at me, shaking his head. “Because there’s nothing going

on.”

I shrug and grin. “Shame. He likes you.”

“Will you stop it already,” he groans, actually blushing for once. “And he doesn’t like me.”

“Trust me on this. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Nick gives me a death glare, and I punch him lightly on the shoulder, just because. He punches me

back and we let the pretend-fight continue a little. He looks away to hide an unwilling smile. It suddenly

hits me that I’m gonna miss him. I never really thought about what graduating would mean for our

friendship. Let alone moving to another continent. I hate the thought of leaving him on his own again.

So here’s hoping Mac will get over his supposed (but doubtful) straight self and provide some sexy

distraction in my absence.

“Promise you’ll come to visit,” I say when we’re back to walking along again like proper grownups.

There’s something I can’t read in the blue eyes when they glance at me. He kicks at a small stone on

the pathway. “Yeah, okay.”

I roll my eyes. “How about we try that again, and this time you make it sound like you mean it?”

He suddenly stops and stares at me darkly, his jaw all tight. “Next you’ll ask me to be happy about

you leaving, too.”

Okay, maybe that breaks my heart a little, but I don’t let it show, more out of habit than anything

else. I bury my hands in my pockets and look at him, tilting my head slightly to the side. “Nick…”

“Forget it,” he snarls and walks on.

I’m quick to catch up. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “It sucks for me too.”

He throws me an unbelieving glance and actually laughs, quiet and bitter under his breath. “Right.

Sucks so much for you and James to be starting a whole new life together in a great new place. I’m

stuck here.”

Alone. He doesn’t say it, but it’s there, underneath the words. I don’t know what to say, so

eventually I opt for: “I’m just a phone call away.”

He shakes his head, refusing to look at me. “That’s not the same thing.”

“I know. So what can I do? Just tell me.”

Nick stares into the distance. “You can’t do anything. And you can’t make me not angry with you by

looking at me like that. Not a chance.”

“You sure?” I give him my best lost puppy look. This is a serious weapon I only use in dire need.

He manages to stare at me darkly for a couple of moments more, then he has to smile and looks

away. “Screw you.”

I allow myself a mental high five, but then I get serious. Apparently, this needs to be said. “It’s not

as easy as you think, leaving here. I’d stay if I could. But that doesn’t mean we have to lose touch, you

and I. Unless that’s what you want.”

He laughs dryly in reply. “Like it matters what I want.”

I shrug. “Matters to me.”

He looks at me as if to say: since when? And ouch, that hits home. I wonder if he’ll ever forgive me

for the shitty way I treated him last semester. I’ve been trying my best to make amends, but those

wounds appear too deep to heal in such a short period of time. I realize how much I’m hurting him

again now, just when I’d finally established that I’d be a part of his life. I wish there was something I

could do, but I’m at a loss when it comes to making things right with him. It seems there’s nothing I can

say.

We stand there for an uncomfortable moment, not looking at each other. If words are futile, there has

to be another way to convince him that I care about him. I step closer and pull him into a hug. Nick tries

to push me back, but only half-heartedly, and when I don’t let go, he gives in. He sinks against me,

ducks enough to press his face against my neck, and I pull him closer. We stand like this for a long time,

neither of us saying a word. It’s getting darker now, and the streetlamps along the path come to life,

shining their light on us. I close my eyes briefly and inhale the familiar scent of his skin. I think we’ll be

okay some day. It’s neither today, nor tomorrow. There’s still a long way to go. I’m not even sure what I

mean to him now, or what I ever meant to him. But standing here with him, the thought of leaving

makes me sad for the first time.

* * *

On the day of the graduation ceremony, I get a delivery of flowers and a ridiculously fat guilt-trip

cheque from Lilah. I already knew she wouldn’t be able to make it. She’s in Spain, probably looking for

her next potential husband. What I don’t expect is for Grazzo to show up at my dorm room

unannounced. I’m in my black graduation gown, silly cap and all, and I’m more than a little surprised.

This is the first time he’s ever shown up to anything like this.

“Damn,” he says when he’s given me one of his bear hugs. “I’m proud of you, son.”

He never calls me “son”, so I guess I’m allowed to be baffled. I don’t know what to say. It’s good to

see him, the scent of his familiar aftershave filling the room.

“They were impressed with the recording you sent in to the JIB,” he continues. Ah, that’s the way

the wind blows. “Congratulations, Dan. You should get your acceptance letter any day.”

Wow, that was quick. I’m happy to hear it, really, I am. But the way he’s acting is pissing me off too

much to let it show.

“Listen, Graz. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because I love music. And I’m grateful that

you’ve helped pave my way in this time. But for god’s sake, back off now. Let me do my own thing. I

don’t want your help. I want to make it on my own.”

He looks at me and a broad, impressed smile appears on his face. “Okay,” he says. Just like that. “I

respect that.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

I’m still a little wary. “So you promise you won’t interfere in any way?”

He laughs softly. “It’s a deal. Just don’t come a-knocking later, big boy.”

I grin. “Never happen.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he grins. “Once you show me the way to the good stuff.”

“You’ll have to make due with cheap champagne. But you’re coming with me first.” I grab him by

the arms and shove him out of my room.

“Where to?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet. And be kind, because once he sees you, he might be a little in

shock.”

“And who is this mysterious someone?”

“My boyfriend,” I say simply. Grazzo arches his eyebrows in surprise. But then he grins and puts his

arm around me as we walk along. It’s actually a nice feeling, though I’d never admit that to him.

“I’ll be on my best behavior then.”

I glance at him with a small grin. “Let’s hope that for once, that’ll do.”

* * *

It’s my last day at Woodhaven, and the last time I’m in my dorm to get one remaining bag. The room is

stripped bare of everything that made it mine for the past four years of my life. I look around, feeling a

sad little sting. These four walls sure have seen a lot! It’s not like me to grow attached to a place, but the