Page 82 of Unsteady

“Stay out of my way,” I whisper. I look over her shoulder at the little crowd gathered. The black-haired, golden-skinned guy is watching it all with a sinful smirk across his lips, leaning back as if this is his favorite reality show. But above him, sitting on the highest step and being tended to by some football player, is the girl from earlier.

I gesture to her, making her face turn ashen as I call a little louder. “And tell your little friend up there to watch her fucking back. I don’t need unbruised knuckles to skate.”

It’s easy now, to leave, something in my gut is satisfied by the red skin on her cheek, the thoroughly reprimanded look on Paloma Blake’s otherwise perfect face, all of it surges me forward, leading them to my car down just two rows from the lawn.

Bennett sits Rhys in, gentle as the giant can be. Rhys tucks against the seat and I turn to see a running Rora headed my way. Her sandals smack on the pavement, the silk of her pajamas rippling in the cool wind.

She grabs onto Bennett’s arm, who flinches under her touch and draws back.

“Someone’s gotta stop him.”

“Who?”

“Freddy.”

Bennett curses and takes off back towards the party with Aurora in tow, leaving me with Rhys.

It’s quiet, the wild whipping through the trees and the muted party noise gentle in the background. And because I can’t stand the silence, boygenius’ “Revolution 0” plays on a little loop in my head.

He’s just breathing, but I glance quickly to make sure he’s still awake and alive, and despite his drunken stupor, he sees it.

“I’m good.” He sighs deep again, pressing a hand to his chest before letting it fall. “Just those Darth Vader impressions again.”

The words are still slurred, but it’s the droopy smile that has me looking away fast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Rhys whispers, his voice fitting seamlessly with the sounds around me and in me.

It’s almost painful not to look at him.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Rhys…” I beg.

He reaches out, almost falling out of the car, grabbing my hand. It forces me to look, to see the glittering pain like drops of a deep blue in his dark brown eyes.

“I called you over and over. I just… Sadie, please.”

“Don’t do this right now. You’re drunk and I’m tired.”

He bites his lip and nods, but the movement is slow and lethargic.

I want to kiss him again, but it’s selfish because it’s my need.

It’s overwhelming, the way I feel around him. The need to touch him, to hold him—and not in a way that how Ifeelusually overwhelms me. This is—it’s soothing, like it melts away all the bad thoughts in my head.

“Close your eyes,” I murmur, letting my thumb run circles around his warm hand. Letting myself bask in the comfort ofhim.“You should sleep it off, hotshot.”

His lips tilt at the nickname, with his eyes still closed and his hand still folded in mine.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?”

“Yeah,” I murmur, stealing a moment to caress his overheated forehead and run my fingers through his hair. “I’ve got you.”

Even like this, perched in my backseat with a boyish sleepy smile across his face, he looks larger than life. He’s destined to be somethinggreat.

I drop him off with Freddy at their house, who’s sporting bruised knuckles and a red cheek. I don’t ask, because the only thing I’m concerned over is Rhys.

I hate leaving him there, even with Freddy. It feels wrong, leaving him alone.

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