Page 33 of Tears and Other Fears

Chapter 18

Lunchwith the Youngbloods was surprisingly tolerable. If I were capable of admitting when I was happy, I’d admit that it was almost fun. Maybe being rich as fuck made them easily bored. They enjoyed my quirky attitude and didn’t even seem bothered when I brought up the flasher at the institute or how I painted a mural of Young and Samuel spit roasting President Robinson.

And when it was time to leave, they invited me to visit them again.

Weird. It was so very weird.

“A couple of friends invited me out for celebratory drinks. You want to go?” Young asked while loosening his tie. We had just gotten back to his penthouse, and I was taking off my black heels.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” I prodded.

“I don’t. But one of the friends is headed to Chicago for an internship, and I’m not sure when I’ll see him again. I thought it could be fun for us to go.”

I winced. This was just one of the many aspects of his life I’d never fit in at. I didn’t do social calls or celebratory drinks with the boys. I struggled spending time with people I didn’t like, and I didn’t like most people.

“Go,” I began while looking around the empty penthouse. Renon and Noah weren’t there, but I was sure they’d show up soon. “Have fun. I need to decompress anyway. Your family surprised me.”

Young observed me for a moment before responding. “How so?” His voice held wonder and amazement, and a smile broke between his cheeks. He was enjoying catching me off guard by his family dynamic. It wasn’t what I’d expected at all. “They’re implicitly accepting. I don’t get it. I mentioned that I moved here to murder you, and they laughed.”

“They probably thought you were joking,” Young replied.

“I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

I let out a huff of air, feeling my lungs deflate. The more I learned about Nathaniel Youngblood, the more I realized that he was a phenomenal person. It was easy to see why my brother fell in love with him. It was also terrifying to think of how that love destroyed him in the end.

“When I look at you, I see privilege. You have money, supportive parents, and every opportunity possible at your feet. People easily support you because they believe you, and despite my prejudice, you’re so likeable that I’m not even mad you have all these incredible things and people in your life. I guess the selfish part of me wants to compare the two of us. What about me, Young? What do I have?”

“You have me, Octavia. You haveme.”

I started picking at the invisible lint on my black dress. “Don’t forget my drug dealer and therapist. I have them too, I suppose.”

Young’s face darkened for a quick flash—like lightning—then twisted into a hollow form of resignation. His lips were pursed as he assessed me openly, running his large hand through his messy, dark hair. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Octavia Wilson.”

Those words made echoes of joy travel up and down my spine. Whatever. I. Want. “Is this some weird sort of penance for William? For breaking his heart?” I asked, wanting clarification of his motives.

“No.”

His simple response was likely a lie, but I didn’t call him on it. I was feeling so exhausted, slipping back into the version of me that wanted to lie in his bed all day.

“You should probably get going,” I said as my shoulders slumped. Old habits die hard. I should have been elated that he was so perfect, but instead I was pushing him away.

“I’ll stay if you want me to.”

I wanted him to. “Go.”

Young gaveme a cellphone before he left. He claimed mine wasn’t up-to-date, but something told me he wanted a phone he could track. Silly man, didn’t he know I’d crunch technology between my teeth if I wanted to be lost?

The lock screen was a shirtless photo of Young. He was biting his lip and sending a smoldering look into the camera, like he was peering right into my soul. I kind of liked having a sexy photo made just for me. There were five contacts in the address book.

Young.

Noah.

Renon.

Mrs. Youngblood.

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