“I think you’re so attractive—ridiculously attractive,” I blurted out. It was as though Bryce had rifled through an old chest in my soul where I kept every positive thought, every nice attribute, every compliment, and now that he’d started taking things out, more kept tumbling forth, never to fit back inside correctly again. “You’refunny, even if you’re not as funny as me, and so damn sweet I want to hide you from everyone else, like you’re the best candy in a shitty communal Halloween candy bowl.”
His smile widened, but that joy wouldn’t last. Bryce had unleashed my nice, and it was going to hurt us both more than our “hate” ever did.
Gathering his hands in mine, I leaned over Amy as though Bryce and I were making eyes at each other over a candlelit dinner instead of a thousand-year-old wizard dude. “You want more, but I want less. I want Nothing, and that’s the thing, Bryce, that makes us so difficult.” Releasing his hands, I twisted my fingers together, clenching them until they hurt. “I have no future, so neither can we. I’m good for nothing and bad for you. I’m irresponsible, which is why I have to be responsible enough to never tell you if I happen to adore you.”
As Bryce’s expression broke into one of wonder and confusion, the spark in my chest ignited, flaring into a warm glow of affection. It was schoolyard whispers tickling down necks and crisscross applesauce traced on backs. Cool breeze, tight squeeze, shiverees. It was summer night carnivals, the smell of funnel cakes and mosquito spray. It was the giddy anticipation of counting down the days to your sixth birthday. It was how you imagined touching a cloud must feel like before anyone told you the disappointing water-vapor truth.
More warmth trickled into my chest. Faster until I could hardly stand it, until my heart raced, and I could barely breathe. Until Icouldn’tstand it, and pale orange light exploded from my body so bright it forced me to squint. It streamed from my palms, a wavering mix of transparent and opaque. Without thinking, I laid my hands over Amy’s bony chest, pushing all the best-parts-of-living feelings inside of him.
Amy’s eyes drifted shut. A heart-wrenching beat passed where I thought he was gone.
Slowly, his breathing smoothed, air flowing unrestrained inand out of his lungs. The light faded from my hands, and I sat back. Amy’s skin was still puffy and blotchy, and his eyes remained closed, but he breathed deep and steady.
“So,” said Bryce.
“So,” I said. “What do we do now?”
Rain rolled off the end of Bryce’s nose. “We’ll get him to the doctor. He can look after him and alert us when he wakes up. After that, we’ll have to somehow convince him we didn’tmeanto make all the mistakes we did.”
That hadn’t been what I was talking about, and I had a feeling Bryce knew it. I’d been talking aboutus. Whatwewould do now.
Together, we helped Amy back on the horse. After dropping Amy off at the doctor’s house, the ride back to the castle was long, wet, and miserable. And silent. So, so silent. Thoughts raced through my head—what Bryce said about being scared to love because everyone he loved left, and my own problems—how I always fell just short of being enough.
When we got back to the castle, instead of our usual ritual where we climbed into bed together, we stood in the hall between our two doors, dripping water onto the woven carpet.
“We had a moment in the rain,” I said, feeling him out, needing to know where we stood after I practically threw my feelings in his face.
“Sure did.”
My heart was scared to beat. “Isn’t this the point in your books where the hero declares his love?”
Bryce looked down at me, a sort of pain in his eyes. His wet hair curled over his devastating sapphire eyes. “Court, darling, sweetheart, beloved, I confess I have frequent urges to prepare you romantic candlelit dinners, using all your dearest, most treasured possessions as the candles.”
It was a half-hearted attempt at our old fire, but it fizzled out and died in the cold gray between us. There was no going back, and there was also no going forward.
I realized what he must have too; it was better never discussed. It was like a dream you hold close, knowing telling others would destroy the magic. As you sleep again and again, the memory slips away, growing faint and distant until you can’t remember if it actually happened or not.
We turned away from each other, and a moment later, our separate doors clicked shut.
CHAPTER 33INWHICHWETHINKWEAREABOVEMISCOMMUNICATING
BRYCE
I simply did not have the testicular fortitude needed to make grand declarations.
Wedidhave a moment in the rain. Ididhave feelings. Thiswasthe point where we should be confessing them. I liked Courtney.Reallyliked her. She finally let me in on her joke. While everyone else strove for success, she’d already won. The whole time I was hiding inside, she was living, too brave to conform.
My head was dull and fuzzy, and every beat of my heart hurt. My soul felt fractured, broken on the outside, but with tentative rivulets of hope trickling from the cracks, stinging my wounds. She didn’t want me and wanted me at the same time. What was I supposed to do with that?
I could ask her to explain.
Or I could tell her how I felt.
If we would have admitted neither of us cared about being Chosen Ones from the beginning, we might’ve worked together and been home by now. A misunderstanding. Which led to more misunderstandings. Which led to dragons and skeletons and Amy, oh my.
I paced around the same way I had on The Infamous Day of Buzzing, when I’d listened to Courtney’s beautiful moans through the wall in agony, unable to decide what to do with myself. I’d finally sat at my computer and typed and deleted three different names for my Wi-Fi network:YoureKillingMe.LetMeComeOver.FuckMe.That last one had been both a curse and a request.
In the end, indecision had run out, and I’d ended up typing nothing. All the possibilities of what might have happened if I’d knocked on her door stayed locked away in fantasy.
