Page 40 of The Luminaries
“Oh.” Now she flushes too, and even manages a little laugh.Separatemakes a lot more sense.
“I’m sure Lizzy has something you can borrow.” He gestures vaguely at Winnie’s dirty sportswear, and she flushes even more.
She must really stink at this point. She’s still wearing the Kevlar, andnow that all her sweat is drying, she is absolutelyfreezing.In fact, Jay’s offer of a shower is actually kind of tempting.
However, as much as she doesn’t want to ride on Jay’s death machine, she wants to go to Joe Squared even less. It will be all the Luminaries, from the twins to Dante to Erica to Marcus, and Winnie has had more than enough of them today. Plus, if sheisgoing to show up where Erica is again—or any of the Luminaries, for that matter—she wants to wear better clothes than borrowed jeans and flannel from Lizzy (there is a very direct line between Jay’s sense of style and his aunt’s).
She also doesn’t want to still be lying. Eventually the novelty of her killing a banshee will wear off. People will stop talking about it, stop asking her about it, stop remembering she ever showed up on the side of the road with that creature’s head hanging from her hand.
As much as she hates it, her only real option is the motorcycle. Her eyes shutter. “Fine,” she moans. “I’ll ride with you on that thing.”
When she opens her eyes again, she finds something on Jay’s face, just pinching around the edges, that is almost sad, almost disappointed. And she realizes with a jolt that maybe he actually wanted her to go to the show.
He turns away before she can confirm and resumes his march for the bike. “I’ll drive safely,” he promises. “You won’t even know we’re not in Mathilda.”
CHAPTER22
Winnie definitely knows she’s not in Mathilda. It’s not just that her legs are straddled over a wide, vibrating seat. Or that there is wind to flay against her and turn her into a frozen sweatcicle. Or a helmet to limit her head’s rotation, shrink down her field of view, and remove her hearing entirely.
It’s the fact that she has to put her arms around Jay’s waist—something oneneverhas to do in a car. Oh, he might tell her she doesn’t need to. He mighttellher it’s totally safe for her to lean back, but in the absence of seat belts, she is going to hold on to him for dear life.
Of course, now that her arms are around him and he’s steering them off the Friday estate and onto an actual paved road, she wonders if maybe holding on is a bad idea. Maybe the danger here isn’t actually the motorcycle—it’s a lot smoother than she expected, and Jay handles it with ease. More easily than he drives Mathilda, in fact.
No, the danger ishim.Seeing the shape of him in black sportswear is a lot different than feeling that shape. Even when he’d been pressed atop her in the forest, Winnie had been too adrenaline-fueled and skull-knocked to really feel him. Now, there is no escaping it.
He is as muscled as he looks, and Winnie is utterly freaked out by it. Thank god he zipped up his hoodie, and thank god it’s made of thicksweatshirt material, or else she’d be touching just his T-shirt with her fingers, and she isn’t sure she wants that.
No, she definitely doesn’t want that. Jay Friday isn’t supposed to feel like this, andsheisn’t supposed to notice if he does.
Fortunately, the ride to Winnie’s house is mere minutes. Unfortunately, she is so sore (she should have stretched, why didn’t she stretch?) and so cold, she can’t seem to lift her legs to dismount. She literally falls in her attempt, and only Jay’s hunter reflexes keep her from face-planting onto the curb.
“Whoa.” He helps her rise, helmet still on. Winnie’s is still on too, which is making things worse—like, even her neck is sore, and suddenly holding up the weight of the helmet seems unmanageable. Worse, she can’t seem to move as she wants and it’s sending her heart rate spiking.
It’s like she’s in the forest all over again. It’s like the banshee has her trapped while the world slowly ends—
“Off,” she shrieks, ripping at the helmet. “Off, off, get it off!”
Jay obeys immediately, unlatching whatever it is that needs unlatching and then yanking the helmet off of Winnie. Cold air rushes in, sharp and fortifying. Bright and alive. She isn’t in the forest. She isn’t under the banshee. She is standing in front of Jay, who has now removed his helmet too, and she is okay.
She is okay.
“I’m sorry.” Jay looks horrified, and he’s reaching for her without quite touching. Like he’s afraid she’ll fall again, so he needs to be ready to catch her. “I shouldn’t have forced you onto the bike.” His face is stricken. An unusual expression for him, both in the fact that he has an expression at all and that this one is so fierce. “I’m so sorry, Win—”
“No,” she cuts in, straightening. Breathing. She wishes she could tell him about the banshee. She wishes she couldtellhim what happened—how the monster’s skin looked, how she saw her dad and couldn’t stop crying, how beautiful it was and also how devastating. How, as messed up as it is, she would let a banshee cry on her again because she’d never felt so pure. And how, as deeply wrong andmessed upas it is, she is sad the banshee died.
Instead, she forces out, “You’re fine, Jay. The bike was… fine. I’m just really cold.”
He nods, though his expression stays grim. She can tell he doesn’t believe her lie, but he also isn’t going to press her for more. It’s not his way and never has been. Patient, patient Jay.
Then, as if he actually knows the truth anyway, he says, “We’ll go find that safe spot tomorrow, okay? You’ll be at Sunday training?”
“Yeah.” She winces. Her muscles probably won’t get her up the front porch steps, much less through another round with Coach Rosa.
“Good,” he replies. “I’ll find you there. And hey.” He pulls a crumpled Post-it from his pocket. “Here’s my number, in case you need something. I know you don’t have a phone, but…” He swallows. The faintest blush returns.
Winnie takes the paper, so crumpled it’s almost soft now. The ink is faded too, like he wrote this a few days ago and it’s been sitting in his pocket ever since.
“Thanks,” she tells him. Then again—because she actually means it: “Thanks. For this and for the training.”
