Page 53 of Kingmakers, Graduation

How has he become so essential to me?

I don’t like this at all.

I’m vulnerable. Cracked open like one of those crabs down on the beach, exposed to any gull that wants to drive its beak through my heart.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” Adrik asks me.

I should say no. I’m only making this harder on myself.

Instead, I’m already on my feet.

We take Rafe’s car, which he’s lent repeatedly without question. Rafe knows what it’s like to keep secrets. To want something you’re not supposed to have. To sneak away again and again for a taste of it, promising yourself each time that this will be the end, you’ll finally be satisfied …

I let Adrik drive because it’s his cousin’s car.

My rules about cars aren’t as strict as bikes. Even so, I don’t sit in the passenger seat unless I’m confident in the driver.

Adrik operates the Mustang smoothly and efficiently. He knows competence is more impressive than speed.

The road unspools beneath us, his arm resting lightly across the back of the benchseat.

“You leave tomorrow,” he says.

It’s not a question; we both know this already. The silent clock has been counting down in his mind as much as mine.

“Seven a.m.”

“I’ll drive you to the airport.”

I want to say,thanks,but I can’t trust my voice. It might break or come out in an embarrassing squeak. Better to say nothing.

Why does this feel like we’re parting forever? Why am I so upset?

The sun sinks down heavy and red ahead of us, casting long shadows from every tree and post.

Because no one knows how many days they have, or how many chances. Everything changes. No one stays the same.

Adrik pulls into a lookout point, high above the Pacific. The beach below is dark rock, no sand and no sunbathers. We’re surrounded on two sides by towering fir trees and Ponderosa pine. The sunset is bloody—vivid and angry.

Adrik kills the engine, turning to me. For once he doesn’t seize me and kiss me, but only looks at my face, eyes narrowed, jaw stiff. He runs a hand through his thick shock of hair. His fingers are like claws, his shoulders hunched.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“That’s insane.”

“Yes, I’m insane. I’m crazy for you, I’m not afraid to say it.”

His heat and candor are like nothing I’ve known from a man. No posturing—only the truth, given freely.

My heart hammers, my hands twist in my lap.

“You think I’m afraid?”

“Yes.” His eyes burn like blue gas flame, he won’t smile even a little. “You’re afraid to come to Russia. You’re afraid to be alone with me. You want the protection of your family or your school, even when you hate how they chain you.”

“I know nothing about Russia and we’ve only been dating a week! I’d be a lunatic to come live in your house with your Wolfpack. A bunch of guys all together and then me—how the fuck does that work?”

“It works how I say it will.”

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