Page 12 of Patiently Yours
Kendall puts his head in his hands.
“What was the scent?” Ciro suddenly asks, and we all go still. He’s giving Atlas a knowing look. He knows what he’s going to say, and it’ll all be over: the doubt, the uncertainty. We will know for sure.
Atlas meets his eyes after taking a big breath. “Lavender and vanilla.”
Ciro’s nodding his head before he even finishes the words, tears coming to his eyes. “I mean, I didn’t know what the floral scent was off the top of my drunk head, but the vanilla was unmistakable.”
I snort. It is hard to depict exact scents sometimes.
Kendall’s suddenly smiling again, a slight laugh coming out despite the underlying pain. “She’s ours, isn’t she?” He tries to hide his joy but he sniffles slightly. “Our scent match.”
His statement lingers, the truth of it seeping through the air and leaving all of us speechless. Our scents all go in different directions as we think about what this means. It could mean happiness, or heartbreak. We could all fall apart while trying to pursue this. But ultimately, it means one thing:
We might have just found our forever.
EIGHT
Playing: Last Night’s Mascara by Griff
I wakeup to my head pounding and a bright light practically blinding me.
I groan with confusion. I have blacked-out curtains specifically for my trips. Why the hell is the sun in my eyes?
I peek an eye open and catch a glimpse of baby blue walls and an array of critically acclaimed movie posters, which tells me I somehow ended up in the living room. All of Rory’s favorite movies start to blur together as I study them, trying to collect myself.
There’s a throbbing sensation as I try to move. Before I’m all the way up, I feel something wet touch my arm.
“Drink.”
Shit. I know that tone. It’s the ‘Stacia messed up’ tone.
I turn slightly to see my best friend trying to hand me a water bottle. Her face is impossible to read, but she wouldn’t be very good at what she does if she didn’t have control of her face muscles. I don’t need to read her expression, anyway.Her usually-sweet cranberry scent is harsh in the air, letting me know just how upset she is.
I must not move fast enough because I feel the bottle being put to my mouth. The second the cold liquid touches my tongue, I grab the bottle and suck it dry. Then a little pill finds its way into my palm and I take it, knowing it’ll make me feel better.
“You scared me last night,” Rory says. Her words are stern, but her hand finds my back. She soothes me and I feel grateful, but also a little bit sick. She’s always taking care of me.
I cringe. “Do I even want to know what happened?”
“Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway,” she quips.
“You came into my room and woke me up, talking nonsense. Something about spiders chasing you.”
My heart pounds. I definitely don’t remember that. The awful mood I was in before my trip must have made me lose my mind a bit. I normally remember my trips in pieces, but I can’t seem to figure out what happened right after this one started.
“I’m so sorry—” I start to say but she raises a finger to stop me. She reaches down below her and pulls out an empty vodka bottle.
Oh.
“You smelled like vodka, but I knew that alcohol alone wasn’t making you like that. So I asked you.”
I hang my head in shame.
“You lied to me.” She only barely keeps the tremor of emotion out of her words, but I hear it. She puts the bottle on the coffee table and crosses her arms. “And not only that, but you are mixing that stuff with things you shouldn’t. Smoking on it, fine. I get it. Butdrinkingwhile you’re on acid?”
I don’t even remember drinking, but that explains the gaps in my memory.
“I didn’t like seeing you like that. It took a long time for you to calm down. You were so paranoid that something was huntingyou. So, when I finally talked you off the ledge, I let you rest here and went to your room.” She looks at me, a bit of uneasiness etched through her features. “Youhaveto be done with Derek.”
