Page 25 of Seven Lost Summers
It was late. The two of us in our room, the lights were off except for the glow from the hallway light spilling in.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed bouncing that damn rubber ball off the wall again and again. That sound cutting through the silence. His fallback habit when shit gets too real. When talking means opening wounds.
Scarlett had finally left us alone for the night and I couldn’t stop myself. I brought her up, the girl with the guitar.
The second the words left my mouth I caught the change.
The shift. Theo’s whole body stiffened. His fingers clamped around the ball, held on too long before launching the thing at the wall again. No smart-ass comments. No eye roll. Only silence. Heavy as hell.
I know him. I understand that silence speaks louder than anything he ever says. The way his jaw locked, the way his eyes flicked to mine for half a second. He was already bracing himself, already on edge. And that told me everything. Not to fucking cross that line with her.
I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text to Theo.
Nate: I’m on the rise near the statue in the quad. Meet me here.
I shove my phone back into my pocket because Theo won’t reply. He never fucking does.
Mom and Dad keep telling him to use the damn phone they bought him, but saying that is like yelling into a void. He won’t. Flat-out refuses. One night, when I called him out, he muttered something about not wanting to be a burden. Said he didn’t want to rack up their bill. As if they’d ever give a shit about that. Truth is, he still thinks he’s temporary. Still waiting for someone to decide he’s too much to deal with and send him packing.
They’d never kick him out. Not in a million years.
I only wish he could fucking realize that. Wish he believed how much they love him. But he’s scarred deep, and no matter what we say, it’s like the damage is permanent. Always waiting for the rug to get yanked out, bracing for goodbye.
I take a few steps closer, hands buried deep in my pockets, keeping enough space.
Bianca and Quinn are locked in their own little bubble, talking low and fast like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I hang back, eyes shifting between them and the path I’m certain Theo’s about to walk.
Bianca laughs.
My head snaps back, catching her with her head tipped, lips parting, eyes lit up with something wild and unfiltered. For a second, I can’t look away.
I don’t understand or fucking want to. But the pull still crawls through me. That slow-burn chaos of wanting something I’m certain I shouldn’t touch.
At that moment I notice movement past the statue. Theo. Hood dragged so low the shadow cuts across half his face. His shoulders are caved in, hands shoved deep into his pockets as though he’s holding himself together by force. He looks half his size, as though, if he makes himself small enough, he can stay the fuck off everyone’s radar. Make himself invisible. But I catch the truth for what’s there. He’s trying to slip through the world without anyone noticing he was ever fucking here.
When he reaches me, he finally looks up. I nod toward Bianca and Quinn.
He turns.
Lifts his head.
In that instant, I catch the shift.
The way his spine straightens. The slow drag of his hand out of his pocket. He pushes the hood back only enough to catch her. His eyes lock on Bianca and I watch it happen, the tension on his face shifting, the twitch at the corner of his mouth softening.
For one second, he lets himself want.
“She’s beautiful,” he mutters.
I don’t even realize I’m staring at him until his gaze flicks to mine.
“You wanna go over?” I ask.
Theo doesn’t answer right away. His eyes stay locked on Bianca, and I catch the war playing out behind them. He wants to. But he’s fighting the urge…fighting her, fighting whatever the hell’s coming apart inside him.
“Not if you’re gonna open your mouth and ruin it with one of your sleazy pickup lines,” he mutters, cutting me a sideways glare.
“Hey, they work.”
