He snorts. “No, he’s not.”
I blink at him, mouth parting in shock, before turning on my heel.
He reaches for my waist, turning me back to him. “No, I didn’t mean it like—I didn’t mean it like anything. Micha is different. You just said so.” The next thing I know he’s got his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “They’re assholes, Gwendolyn. Micha’s a fucking rock star, okay? He’s authentic and completely true to himself. That drives them crazy, because it’s something they can never have.”
My arms are between us, acting as a barrier, and I can feel his heartbeat notching up before he even begins bending to kiss me.
I turn my face away before he can, his lips crashing clumsily into my jaw.
There’s a beat of silence before he asks, “What, are you mad at me?”
“No.” I sigh, eyes fixed to the collar of his shirt. “I just… I need to get back to my seat. They’ll be looking for me.”
He inhales deeply but doesn’t let go. “Please don’t be mad about all this. That’s exactly what they want.”
“I’m getting really tired of you telling me not to get upset about upsetting things.” The frustration returns, my jaw tightening. “It’s easy for you to say that. You don’t have any vulnerabilities. You’re Teflon. If someone calls you a slur, you have the privilege of not actually being that slur. Stop telling me this shit isn’t a big deal. It’s not a big deal to you. Let it be a big deal to me, because my little brother isn’t fucking Teflon, Hamilton.”
When I shoulder out of his embrace, his arms land heavily against his thighs, mouth flattening into a grim line. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, having been there...” He sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Well, never mind what I meant. I’m not saying it excuses it.”
“It’s just that this is going to be really hard, you know?” I say, gesturing between us. “With the Devils, and school, and our families... it’s going to be hard enough without you dismissing their antics all the time.”
He nods in understanding. “I’m sorry, okay? I promise, we’ll figure it out.” And then he stresses, “I’ll figure it out. Baby steps, right?” Since when does Hamilton Bates have patience? He’ll tire of this situation and me long before anything gets resolved. “Just work with me, here,” he pleads.
I sigh, finally meeting his gaze. The line of his shoulders is curved dejectedly, jaw tight, as if he’s waiting for the worst. I ultimately give in, threading my arms around his waist, and fall into his embrace when he pulls me closer.
His exhale into my hair sounds more relieved than anything. “Will you meet me tomorrow? Early, before everyone gets back at school? We can hang out a little.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “My room?”
“Yep.”
When he bends to kiss me, I let him, wanting to feel his lips on mine for one tiny moment of bliss, wanting to let them wash away the bitterness I feel. His kiss could tell the whole story of the last few minutes. Soft at first, gentle and tentative; an apology. Harder then, head tilted as he deepens the kiss. And finally, a handful of aborted pull-aways, his mouth dipping back in after every hesitant pause.
I pull away sooner than I’d like, slipping back into the lobby. The Devils are gone now, the sparse lobby s
ignaling the end of intermission. At my seat, I reach into my pockets and pull out Michaela’s water and candy, passing it over.
“Why are your lips so red?” Michaela asks, tearing at the package.
The lights go low just then, granting me a reprieve, but not before I glance down the row at Brayden, who’d heard our sister. Guilt flickers heavily in my belly.
I touch my lips as the music starts to play. That kiss was a confirmation—one that we’re both willing to make this work.
25
Hamilton
“What are you doing up here?” I ask as I duck under the center beam of the Devil’s tower.
It’s early, eight a.m. I left before either of my parents were up, figuring I’d get here way before the rest of the students will arrive. No one willingly wants to come back to Preston after a long break, especially with exams on the horizon. It feels longer than a week since I left Preston Prep for the break. Those days in Gwendolyn’s bed feel like a foggy memory, but if she manages to get back to campus early, hopefully we can have a little more time together before we fall back into our routine. I’d come up here hoping to sneak a covert peek of her dorm building.
Xavier’s perched on one of the open arched windows, looking down at his phone. “Parents sent me off early. Just enjoying some peace and quiet before I have to go back to the dorm.”
I pause. “Want me to fuck off?”
But he just says, “Nah, you’re cool,” finally putting away his phone. “Is it just me, or does it get harder and harder every time we have to come back? Let me tell you how much I’m not looking forward to being subjected to Ansel’s weird music genre flavor of the week.”
I grimace. “God, remember his dumb ‘core’ phase?”