I nodded, and he held me against his side until we were inside the apartment. America and Shepley had already shut themselves in their bedroom, and I slipped in and out of the shower. Travis sat with Toto outside while I dressed in my pajamas, and within half an hour, we were both in bed.
I rested my head on my arm, breathing out a long, relaxing puff of air. “Just two weeks left. What are you going to do for drama when I move back to Morgan?”
“I don’t know,” he said. I could see his tormented frown, even in the darkness.
“Hey,” I touched his arm. “I was kidding.”
I watched him for a long time, breathing, blinking, and trying to relax. He fidgeted a bit and then looked over at me. “Do you trust me, Pidge?”
“Yeah, why?”
“C’mere,” he said, pulling me against him. I stiffened for a second or two before resting my head on his chest. Whatever was going on with him, he needed me near him, and I couldn’t have objected even if I’d wanted to. It felt right lying next to him.
Chapter Nine
PROMISE
Finch shook his head. “Okay, so you’re with Parker, or with Travis? I’m confused.”
“Parker’s not talking to me, so that’s sort of up in the air right now,” I said, bouncing to readjust my backpack.
He blew out a puff of smoke and then picked a piece of tobacco from his tongue. “So are you with Travis?”
“We’re friends, Finch.”
“You realize everyone thinks you two are having some sort of freaky friends-with-benefits thing going on that you’re not admitting to, right?”
“I don’t care. They can think what they want.”
“Since when? What happened to the nervous, mysterious, guarded Abby I know and love?”
“She died from the stress of all the rumors and assumptions.”
“That’s too bad. I’m going to miss pointing and laughing at her.”
I smacked Finch’s arm, and he laughed. “Good. It’s about time you quit pretending,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Honey, you’re talking to someone’s who’s lived most of his life pretending. I spotted you a mile away.”
“What are you trying to say, Finch? That I’m closet lesbian?”
“No, that you’re hiding something. The cardigans, the demure sophisticate that goes to fancy restaurants with Parker Hayes … that’s not you. Either you were a small-town stripper or you’ve been to rehab. The latter’s my guess.”
I laughed out loud. “You are a terrible guesser!”
“So what’s your secret?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?”
His features sharpened with an impish grin. “I’ve shown you mine, now show me yours.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your sexual orientation isn’t exactly a secret, Finch.”
“Fuck! And I thought I had the mysterious sex-kitten thing going for me,” he said, taking another drag.
I cringed before I spoke. “Did you have a good home life, Finch?”