Page 13 of Wristlocked
“That’s quite the prediction, Gale Shepard.” Her eyes flit between the three of us, curiosity dancing across her features, making her look surprisingly young.
“He’s right, Chloe.” Lyot’s voice is heated. When I look up at him, the storm is rising in his eyes. “The only one here who doesn’t see it is you.” He turns to me with a fierce smile. “Gia’s always known what she’s worth.”
For a long moment, the world tilts on its axis, the three of us standing together while my heart explodes in my chest. My mom laughs, retreating from our unexpected solidarity.
“Of course she does,” she says, as if she’s spent the last eighteen years building my weapons instead of my walls. “We’re all very excited to see where she goes from here. Come, darling. Give me a kiss, and I’ll leave you to it.”
Dazed, I step into her cool embrace, letting her kiss my cheek and give my hands a squeeze.
When she’s gone, I turn back to Gale and Lyot, holding my breath, to find them staring at each other across the space shaped like me that hangs between them. The lethal tension is still present, albeit dialed back to a low simmer, but interest flickers there as well. Then Lyot opens his mouth to speak, and the moment shatters, Gale’s ruthless smirk returning as he walks away from us without a backward glance.
I approach Lyot like an offering, knowing I will do anything—I will burn myself to ash—to stand between the two of them like that again. He gives me a rueful quirk of his lips.
“Okay,” he says. “I guess I kind of get it.”
I want to throw my arms around him because he’s Lyot—selfless and mine. But people are watching us, drawn by the spectacle my mom kindled with her entrance and Gale ignited with his uncharacteristic support.
Ren approaches from a nearby rope, his eyes sparkling. “That’s the famous mom, eh?” He shrugs. “I like you better, Bluey.”
I can’t help grinning back. Ren’s exuberance is infectious, and he’s been nothing but nice to me, regardless of Lyot’s cold shoulder.
“Everyone BFFs again?” He eyes the two of us, confirming that he’s not totally oblivious to last week’s tension. I turn my grin to Lyot, willing him to agree. Tearing his gaze from Gale, who’s attaching his black straps to his usual point in the corner, he smiles down at me.
“Sure. BFFs.”
“Always.” I grab his hand and squeeze, and he laces his fingers through mine.
“Should we ditch the rest of the day and go celebrate?” Ren asks, bouncing on his toes. “Or do you two need some time alone?”
Alone time sounds pretty good to me after a week of guilty sessions with my vibrator, but Lyot shakes his head with a laugh.
“I could be down for some celebration. What did you have in mind?”
“Day drinking, baby.” Ren slaps Lyot’s ass, and Lyot cuffs him affectionately on the head. “And not in the dorms today. It’s past time you took your boy Ren out on the town.”
“You do know you have to be twenty-one to drink here,” Jules interjects, joining us with Vaya in tow.
“Totally eavesdropping,” Vaya adds. “Sorry,not sorry.”
“Right.” Ren winks at the girls. “American fascism at its finest. But you guys are locals.” He turns back to me and Lyot. “You can’t tell me you don’t know a good pub that isn’t averse to bending the rules for a bunch of circus hotties.”
Lyot and I exchange a look.
“5 Mile?”
“I definitely wouldn’t use the word ‘good.’” I shrug. “But they don’t give a shit about IDs, and it’s only about fifteen minutes away by Uber.” There are other clubs that will take Lyot and me when we’re dolled up, and some of the smaller casinos will look the other way if we spend enough money, but it’s two thirty on a Wednesday afternoon, and by the eager look on his face, I’m guessing Ren will be perfectly happy in a dive bar.
9
Gia
“Okay,” Vaya says, leaning forward, unfazed when her elbow lands in a puddle of beer. “It’s time to spill the story on you and Lyot.”
We’ve been at 5 Mile for two hours, and she and I are alone at the table we’ve commandeered at the back of the narrow, dingy bar. I’m halfway through my fourth whiskey and coke, the only safe drink in the place—unless you’re in the mood for rotgut tequila shots, which I might also have had a few of—and I’ve been watching Jules systematically destroy Ren and Lyot at pool for the last forty-five minutes.
“It’s not really a story.” I shake my head, perhaps somewhat harder than necessary because the dark-paneled room tilts alarmingly, neon swaying at the edges. “We’ve been best friends since we were thirteen. Actually, he’s pretty much my only friend. Until now.” I beam at her.
“Yes, I love you too.” Vaya pats my head, and I stick my tongue out at her. “But if you’re trying to tell me you’ve never slept with that”—she jerks her chin in Lyot’s direction—“I don’t believe you.”
