Page 16 of Wonderstruck

I folded my arms. “I’m not sulking.”

“Says the man sulking.” Tristanquipped.

I sat up on my elbows. “I hope youget nominated for a Grammy and lose—Oh woah, woah, what the fuck are you doing—”

Jess and Tristan barely shared aglance before each grabbing a foot and pulling me from the couch. The fabric burned as it glided underneath my calves, pulling my shirt around my waist as my body flopped onto the hardwood floor.

“Get off me you absolute freaks.” I barked, which was met by barked laughsfrom the assholes I called my best friends.

“Get the door,” Tristan said to Jess, who loosened his grip on my left foot toone hand as his other pulled open the apartment door.

I saw their plan, but before I could protest, their pulls intensified, the slight tickle blooming in the centre of my feet.

Once my body was out in the hallway, God knows what sticking to my clothes,Jess and Tristan bolted back into the apartment, the giggles that made them sound like toddlers at a tea party echoing in the hallway before the front door closed and bolted.

I got to my feet, anger mixed withlaughter radiating through me. “I need to get ready for practice, Burton will literally kill me if I’m late—”

“Oh well, you should have thoughtabout that before you had a tempertantrum.” Jess mumbled.

I knocked my fist against the door. “I did not have a temper tantrum!”

Tristan snickered. “Says the man have a temper tantrum—”

“Because you locked me outside—”

“Mylord, what is that racket?” Asweet, leathery voice called from the end of the hallway, leading to the stairwell.

I turned my head to find JoJo,lifting my palm in her direction. “Sorry JoJo, my roommates aren’t very nice people.”

She simply smiled, and the moment Iheard her footsteps heading back up the stairwell, I slammed my fist against the door. “Let me in!”

A second later, a note slid under thedoor. I bent my knees down to get it,sighing as I stayed crouched and read what was written.

Save whatever is going on for the rink.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms as my eyes squeezed shut.

I hated it when they were right. But I suppose if they weren’t then I’d have probably boiled over by now.

It was this unspoken thing between us. They knew—always knew—when itwas about him.

“How can you tell?”I’d asked once,cornered by them both after one of the last games of last season when I’d been stupid enough to answer Dad’s call, making me commit a few fouls and getting into a fight with the other team's goalie.

“Because you’re the least angryperson we know,”Jess had said, matter-of-fact as ever.“Except when it’s about him.”

They weren’t wrong. Every time Ifelt the wires in my head short-circuiting, sparking with the same shit that had made him burn his life to the ground, it terrified me.

What if it’s in me too?

I pressed my forehead against thedoor, pulling in slow, shuddering breaths. I couldn’t keep letting his shadow stretch this far. I couldn’t let the mess he made of his life spill into mine.

Three quick knocks. “I will. I’msorry,” I murmured, just loud enough tobe heard.

The lock unclicked instantly. Tristanand Jess stood there before they clapped me on the back and pulled me in, with no hesitation, no judgment. Nothing that would have convinced me they were sick of me.

That’s when it hit.

What if I lost them? What if I pushedthem away because I couldn't stop fearing that I’d become him? What if it went further than simply refusing to love someone? What if I’d let my fear of becoming him ruin my life so much that I would eventually have no one? Not even my friends.

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