Page 122 of Elusion

“Privacy with my girlfriend would be nice at some point,” I say from my dueling chair.

He hops up and drags the pink curtain suspended from the ceiling across the room. It blocks me from seeing him. His head pops around the side long enough to smirk. “Problem solved.”

My eyes narrow at Callie and her airy laugh. I blame her for the strange relationship developing between us.

“Want me to kick him out?” she asks, her voice still hoarse.

I shake my head, not all that bothered by him. Visiting hours will end, and he’ll leave with his decade-old debt repaid. We aren’t going to do anything actually requiring privacy anyway.

Nurse Susie Sunshine joins us. She completes one last check of Callie’s throat before her shift ends. She and I share a bitter final exchange of facial expressions. Whether or not she wants to admit it, she will definitely miss me.

Almost alone again, I crawl into the bed. Callie lays her head on my shoulder, and I stroke her hair. The longer we lie here together, the more the previous twenty-four hours fade away.

“I love you, beautiful.”

She makes a satisfied humming sound, nuzzling against me. “I love you.”

I pick at the cast on her wrist, draped over my stomach. “Should I be offended you haven’t asked me about dinner with my parents?”

“How rude am I to make everything about me?” she deadpans.

“Very, but I’ll forgive you if we can fool around later.”

She tilts her chin up to properly glare at me. “How was dinner?”

I groan. “Terrible. I don’t want to talk about it.”

A laugh and a smile before she cuddles into my shoulder. “So, you still don’t know what you’re doing next year.”

“Oh, I do. Decision made.”

She lifts her head again, intrigued. “Well? Philosophy in Pittsburgh? Music at Berklee? Or what was the third?”

“Pot farmer. I never expected them to let me make it to my third suggestion, so I didn’t put much thought into it.”

“Clearly,” she says. “So? Option one or two—or else Tony will never leave you alone.”

“Pete, can you provide us with a drumroll, please?”

Nothing.

I try again, much louder. “Pete. Drumroll.”

A weird sputter comes from the other side of the curtain. Both Callie and I make a face at the sad attempt.

“I requested a drumroll, not a guy who spits a lot.”

He stops. “Asshole.”

Callie grows impatient with my drawn-out announcement. “Just tell me.”

I pause for effect and predict her reaction before I say, “Law school at UPenn.”

Eyes widen. “You’re kidding.” Eyebrows pull together. “After everything?” Mouth falls open when I don’t answer. “You’re doing exactly what your parents expected all along?”

Doubt, shock, confusion—precisely as I expected for once.

“Technically,” I say, “but I’m not doing it for them. Or the financial support they’ll provide. Or the outrageous amount of money I can earn, working for one of my father’s connections.”

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