Page 134 of The Casualty of Us
Talan and Mia just stare at me, though, probably a little thrown by the multiple changeups I’m tossing their way, but—
“A run?”
Hayes clears his throat at Ollie’s quiet question, and I look between the two of them to see a stare-off happening before their eyes drop to me.
“Yeah.” I shrug again, offering casually. “I was thinking you two could come with me if you want, though.”
I can tell they don’t know what to do with it, whether to count it as a win or not, but eventually Hayes nods. “Of course, Freckles.”
“You’ll have to keep up, baby sister.”
Both of them apparently deciding it’s safer to keep me in their sight.
“Can’t wait.” I grin.
Finding a way to keep my promises for the most part while keeping them safe too. I blow out the candles later that night on my Chantilly Lace cake while Ollie blows out the ones on his German chocolate, wishing for them to not notice when I stop to tie my shoe at the end of the run the next day.
And they don’t, joking with each other while heading for the Suburban at the curb that Mia and Talan are idling in without looking back. It gives me the two seconds I need to slide the copy ofHamletout from where I have it tucked into the back of my leggings. One of the two sets of keys to PO Box 338 tucked neatly into the hole I carved out inside. A little note curled up beside them with a request to insert his shitty poetry here, and all of it secured by a few rubber bands.
I stop just behind the statues adorning the Mary McLeod Bethune Memorial and drop the book on the edge without a second thought. Hoping I’m right and that he wouldn’t miss a chance to see me before school starts back up again. Especially after I’ve been gone too.
So let’s play a game.
You leave my people out of it, and I’ll crack the door for you myself.
On my terms. Once I know enough. Once I’m sure of the win.
And then…well, I can’t seem to make it past that part yet.
Chapter Thirty
OPHELIA - AUGUST 2013
I lay upside downon the boys’ couch, a Sour Punch Straw hanging from my mouth, and stare at Hayes’s door. Pretty sure I’m in a permanent sugar coma after our two-day sleepover in the guys’ living room, during which we binged not only theMatrixtrilogy but also all of theJurassic Parkmovies at my insistence. Falling asleep to the TV playing every night with Ollie’s hand in mine and Hayes eventually curling himself around me at some point with a soft kiss pressed to the top of my head. Neither of us brought up what happened at Graham’s during those two days, but the change was there regardless.
In the constant pull now. In the little ways he seeks out my skin and I seek out his without really thinking about it. Even in our sleep.
Ollie starts to hum theJeopardy!tune rather loudly from the chair on my left, and I snort a laugh, calling out to the door, “Hurry up! I want to see!”
“What do you think it is?”
I turn my head while sucking some of the sugar off of the straw, mumbling out around it. “Bet he has another tattoo somewhere.”
His face falls into a scowl. “What do you mean another?”
“Nothing.”
Someone drops something in the hallway loud enough to be heard through the dorm door, and another person shouts back. All of it brings a small smile to my face at the sounds of everyone moving back in around us again.
Right before Hayes’s door opens, and the Sour Punch Straw drops from my mouth.
He runs a hand through his hair. “What do you think?”
“Dude,” Ollie scoffs a disbelieving laugh. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Cheyenne showed me how.” He shoots Ollie a put-out look, messing with the silvery-blue strands that still show off his black roots. “I was going to do it before coming back, but I got a little distracted.”
Ollie sputters, barely getting out, “You spent your summer learning how to do hair from a girl?”
