Page 84 of Requiem

“Thanks, Rach,” Theo says quietly.

“Sure, Merch. Let me know if you guys need anything else.” She goes, and the look on Theo’s face speaks a thousand words.

“I know. I’m sorry. This is all…a lot. I know there’s a metric shit ton of stuff we still need to go over, but perhaps we can just eat and watch the movie. We’ll get through all of your questions, I promise.”

I am so tired of this. Like, fucking exhausted. What am I supposed to do, though? Cause a scene and ruin dinner? I know I promised one, but out of nowhere, I’m so bone weary and drained by this whole affair that it’s all I can do to nod.

Thus far, Theo’s kept his promises, and if he says we’re going to get through everything, I am just going to have to trust that he will keep that promise, too.

We eat, and the food is just as delicious as it smelled. It takes a long time to shake off the shock of learning that I’m old as fuck now, and my boyfriend and all of my old frenemies have chosen to stay in fucking high school for as long as they have. Another beer helps me shake off my mood. By the time Theo picks up the check and we leave, I’m feeling a tiny, tiny bit better though. Less freaked out, if that’s even possible. I mean, of all the revelations I’ve been hit with of late, these most recent ones don’t even tip the balance on the fucked-up scales.

Outside in the car, Theo sits quietly for a second, staring down at his hands. “Do you still want to go to the movies?” he asks softly. “Because…” He lets out a shaky breath. “My delightful little sister thinks that I’m making decisions for you. I know how difficult this whole thing is. I’m…” He cracks his thumb knuckles. “I’m just trying to do what’s right, but I get that keeping things from you, or feeding them to you piecemeal is…maybe not the best. And the thing is, Sebastian’s organized a party at The Jump, and—”

I cut him off. “The Jump?” Why does that sound familiar? Ah, yeah. It comes back to me almost immediately. Lani talked about The Jump a while ago, when we were fantasizing about getting away from Toussaint. She’d said it was far away, though, on the way back to Seattle. Surprise, surprise, it’s a lot closer than she made out.

“It’s a bar. We used to go there,” Theo clarifies. “They used to have underaged hours for kids from Toussaint, but now thatsomeof us are practically legal, at least…”

I don’t even consider it. “I want to go.” Going to the movies with him does sound good, but there’s so much going on inside my head right now. I won’t be able to focus on what’s happening on the screen. I’ll just sit there, and all of this shit will fester away in my head, and I’ll wind up fucking screaming at the top of my lungs for no reason or something. I need noise. I need life. I need to be somewhere so crowded and chaotic that I won’t even be able to hear myself think, even if I want to.

“All right then,” Theo says, sounding more than a little resigned. “The Jump it is.”

24

THEO

I braceas I shove the door open to The Jump, hoping like hell that this doesn’t blow up in my face. Behind me, Sorrell vibrates with a pent-up energy that feels somewhat dangerous. I’ve been waiting for her to put two and two together and realize that she’s not eighteen anymore, but when that didn’t happen, buying her a beer over dinner seemed like a good way to bring it up. That hadn’t exactly gone to plan. After that, hiding the fact that half of the Academy were hanging out here tonight then seemed like a piss-poor strategy. I chose to eat on the outskirts of town in the hopes that we’d steer clear of Seb and the others, but maybe Lani is right. Maybe pulling the strings and coercing Sorrell into doing what I think is best for her reallyisn’twhat’s good for her. I could barely even taste dinner over the tang of my own selfishness. I had no choice but to let her make up her own mind about it.

Condensation runs down the windows of The Jump. The place is slammed, bodies crushed up against bodies, people shoving at one another to get to the bar. Music thumps through crackling speakers, making it impossible to differentiate between the beat and the wobbling bass. I’ve never been in love with this place. It smells like sweat and old beer. The bar staff are dicks. It was the only place in town that would allow us to hang out though, so the students of Toussaint quickly adopted it as their stomping ground.

I take Sorrell’s hand, placing her in front of me so that I can try and protect her from getting pushed around as we forge a path through the crowd. I growl at a guy in a trucker cap that nearly spills his drink on her when he turns from the bar, flashing my teeth at him like some sort of rabid dog. Sorrell tugs on my hand and pulls me away before I can say something shitty to him that could potentially end in a fight.

In the back, by the pool tables, it’s a little quieter, though not by much. This is where we find the better part of Toussaint’s senior year, gathered around Sebastian, who is holding court like the arrogant, jumped up piece of shit that he is. His face is still a fucking mess, courtesy of yours truly. He stands on a chair with a pool cue in one hand and a beer in the other, mid-way through some bawdy story that he is no doubt the star of. When he lays eyes on me, he stops talking, surprise evident.

“Well, look who it is! If it’s not the Prince of Toussaint himself, deigning to come slum it with the commoners.”

I roll my eyes. “Shut up, Seb. Why don’t you get down off your soap box and go grab me a beer?”

There will be no make up deep and meaningful between us. There never is. He does something to piss me off. I beat the crap out of him. We don’t talk for a couple of days. I give him shit and make him buy me a beer. The end. Our friendship has been tenuous at best, these last few years. I still owe him a lot. He did agree to stay here and help with this situation, even though he resented Sorrell even more for it. He did it for me. Mostly.

It's going to take a cold day in hell before I forgive him for the soda can incident though, and he knows it. I doubt it’ll ever happen. But if keeping the peace tonight means that Sorrell can relax and enjoy herself for a while, then I’ll bite the bullet and make it happen.

Seb eyes me, his gaze skittering to my left, where Sorrell stands, glowering at him defiantly. He laughs harshly, jumping down from the chair. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.” He sketches a dramatic mock bow, and then darts off toward the bar, leaving his audience hanging.

Noelani appears out of the throng, a bottle of Bud Lite in her hand. She sways a little too much for my liking as she throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. “Big brother! You’re here! And you brought Sorrell! Hey, girl.” She lets go of me and hugs Sorrell, grinning impishly. “I knew he’d bring you,” she tells her conspiratorially. “My brother’s a very simple creature. You just have to plant a few seeds of doubt in his mind and give it some time. Eventually his conscience gets the better of him.”

“You’re drunk,” I tell her.

“Awww, is big bad Theo Merchant mad that his sister is having a good time and drinking beer?” She tries to pinch my cheek, but I swat her hand away.

“No. I’m mad that you’re drinkingbadbeer. You could at least develop some taste.”

“Ahh, go eat a dick, buddy. Hey, Sorrell, wanna play pool? If I close one eye and do thissss,” she slurs, sticking out her tongue, “I think I could hit the balls.”

Sorrell laughs, giving me a backward shrug as Lani drags her over to a free table. Even though she’s left me, I make sure I keep her in my line of sight, very aware of what’s going on around her. She looks fucking phenomenal tonight. She always does. But I’m not blind. I can see the way that guy with the trucker cap is still staring at her, and I do not like it one bit. The moment it looks like he’s heading in her direction, I’ll head over there and rip the fucker’s drooling tongue right out of his goddamn head.

“Whoa, son. Calm down. I can feel the rage pouring off you from the other side of the bar.” Sebastian shoves a beer at me. “Here. I bought one for your girl too, but I’m not dumb enough to try and give it to her. Figured you’d break three of my fingers or something.”

“Four,”I snap, taking a mouthful out of the other beer that he hands to me—the one intended for Sorrell.

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