It’s complicated.
I chug the rest of my energy drink, watching Moffy and Luna hide in the cardboard box to scare their dad. “Shh,” Moffy whispers to Luna and yanks down a flap.
All the while, Lily and Lo embrace.
I do not watch their lip-lock. I’ve seen enough at their house, thank you. When they pull apart, Lo sweeps the storage room and nods to me.
I nod back.
But he’s looking for Moffy and Luna. “Where are our kids?” Panic catches in his edged voice but quickly extinguishes as the box giggles and laughs.
I smile.
Lo is an asshole, though, so he layers on fear and panic and yells, “Moffy?! Luna?! Lily, go call 9-1-1 right n—”
“No!” Moffy shrieks, tearing up. He pops out of the box and bolts to his dad. “I’m right here! I’m right here!” He hugs onto Lo’s legs, and Lo crouches, hugging his son tight. Acting so relieved to find him.
Savage.
Lily whispers to Lo, but I can’t hear, and then Lo assesses Moffy’s well-being. “Are you in one piece? Are you okay? Did the aliens get you?”
“What aliens?”
Lo lets out a choked laugh. “You didn’t hear about the alien invasion last night? What were you—sleeping?”
“Yeah, I like sleep.”
“No way, me too.”
My smile fades into something else. It’s been nice babysitting Moffy and Luna, but seeing Lo interact with his kids just makes me want to be a father.
I want a baby with Willow.
Can’t believe I’m at a place where that sounds like walking into a bright horizon. Like the end credits to a movie I want to play all over again.
I tune out a bit—in a baby daze—but I’m back at the perfect time. Lily is about to blow up my secret project. I shake my head, trying to get her to shut up.
“We’re trying to separate all the ones with Sorin-X. He said…” she trails off, seeing me finally. “What?”
I stifle a groan.
Moffy runs off to play with Tilly Stayzor action figures from The Fourth Degree universe.
As Lo drills confusion into me, I decide to go with the moment. “I did have something to ask you.”
This isn’t about work. I am worried he might say no, but I’m not that nervous to actually ask him what I’m about to ask. I figure it seems obvious anyway.
And so I say, “Will you be my best man at my wedding?”
His mouth slowly drops, stunned.
“You’ve been more of a brother to me than my brothers,” I say strongly because this is the fucking truth. “I probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you…and you.” I look to Lily.
I’m not sure I tell them enough how much they mean to me.
How grateful I am and will always be.
Lily wipes her gathering tears.
Lo’s amber eyes glass. “Of course I’d be your best man.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Do you think the tall one and the angry one will want to be groomsmen?”
“Connor, without a doubt, and Ryke goes with the flow.” Lo laughs. “Christ, if you put him in the back row, he wouldn’t even care or take it to heart.”
“Okay good.” I expel another long breath, until Loren grabs a comic from the growing stack.
He asks, “What’s all this for?”
“I don’t know,” Lily says. “Garrison was just about to tell…”
I’m shaking my head with widened eyes.
She’s gaping, brows bunched. “Uhhh…”
I bet she sucks at charades.
Lo glances at me. “Is this about your video game?”
My face falls. “What?” What the fuck?
He flashes a half-smile.
I choke out, “How’d you know?” Are there hidden cameras in his house? In my cubicle? What. The. Fuck.
“You’re working for Connor Cobalt, man. The guy probably has fifteen brains and seven pairs of eyes. You might not know what he’s thinking, but he knows what you are.” Lo touches his chest. “And he’s my best friend. He told me you’re working on a game based on a comic book character.”
I sway backwards, disbelieving. Connor Cobalt already knows I’m creating a video game on Sorin-X… “And he didn’t give a shit? I thought he’d pull the plug on the project.”
“He actually likes the idea. So do I.”
I’m in another dimension. “What?”
“I own the video game rights to The Fourth Degree series.” Halway Comics is the publisher, duh. “And Belinda and Jackson told me they’d rather eat their left arms than see a thousand people turning the game into a money-making soulless franchise.”
Of course I recognize those names. Belinda and Jackson Howell are the young brother-sister duo and artists and writer of The Fourth Degree universe.
My head is spinning, but I gather my thoughts fast. “I have most of the technical shit coded, but I’m at the point where storyline is important. That’s why I was looking through the comics, but eventually I’d need Belinda and Jackson for the art. I can only code, and what I’m making is classic, indie. I think the game style fits what the comic intended to be.”
“I’ve been mentioning the video game to Belinda and Jackson for a full year,” Lo says, “and they’re interested. I know they’d work with you. I’ll give you their numbers.”
My jaw is on the floor.
Speechless.
In shock.
Lo has known for a full year about the video game because of Connor. He’s already mentioned the project to the most important people. And they’re interested.
My eyes burn, and I think for so long, I didn’t believe I should try to chase after what I loved. When other people are faster and smarter, it felt pointless.
It took work to get here, but I know the first step was always belief.
Belief that I could.
Belief that I should.
And yeah…I’m happy I did.
32 BACK THEN – August
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
WILLOW MOORE
Age 18
Dalton Academy is officially in my past. While all the seniors were ripping open their acceptance letters to Ivy Leagues and fancy private universities, they turned to me and asked where I was accepted.
With a weak, dying smile, I told them I never applied.
The shock and horror on their faces is forever engrained in my brain. But I’m happy with my decision to work at Superheroes & Scones for a while.
I’ll save up money, so that when I’m ready for college, I can afford it myself. Lo offered to pay my tuition, but he’s already financed my last year of high school and given me a place to stay. Coming to Philly wasn’t about reconnecting with my brother for his wealth, and I have to be self-sufficient in order to prove that.
“Lily tried to slip me extra money in my paycheck,” I whisper to Garrison in the storage room of Superheroes & Scones. I don’t know why I’m whispering. It’s after-hours, and we’re the only ones here.
I’m supposed to be closing up, but Garrison stayed back to help me unpack the new Spider-Man/Deadpool issues that’ve been flying off the rack.
Garrison holds onto a plastic-wrapped comic, and his brows furrow. “Jesus. She wants you to go to college that badly?”
I shake my head. “She knows I want to go, and I think she feels guilty that I don’t have the money for it yet. Anyway, I told her I wouldn’t accept any bonus that the other employees aren’t given.”
Garrison smiles. “Knowing Lily, we may all have a ‘surprise’ holiday bonus next week.” He makes air quotes with one hand.
“It’s August,” I say.
“Exactly.” He places the comic on a stack, sorting the issues from oldest to newest. He’s quiet for a second, unusually so, and I think maybe I said the wrong thing.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I shouldn’t have brought up college…or lack thereof. For us both, I mean.” I’m roasting.
He eyes me silently.
They were angry, but they’re also type-A’s (as he put it), so they just went into immediate action and enrolled him in another school.
Maybelwood Preparatory. Also the same high school Ryke attended.
Garrison rarely talks about repeating his senior year, but I know his pride has been bruised. And I was the fool that just brought up college.
“Hey, Willow.” Garrison leans over the edge of the box, two hands on the edge. We’re a little closer now. I can smell his shampoo, a pine needle scent.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“No topics are too sensitive to talk about between us,” he tells me. “Can we agree on that?”
I look him over, wondering if he likes discussing the tough parts with me—because there are so many untouchable, sensitive subjects in his life that we’ve been crossing together. “Yeah, definitely,” I say, feeling relieved.
“Good.” He smacks the side of the box and returns to sorting the stacks. “And I’m never going to college—so we can talk about it all you want. It’s not a big deal.”
I frown. “You don’t want to go? Or you don’t think you’ll get in?”
“I don’t want to go.” His blue-green eyes hit mine. “You know when you think about something and it gives you this unsettling feeling, like you’re a moment from breaking out into hives?”
Every day. “Yeah.”
“It’s like that. Times a billion. There’s not a cell inside of me that wants to go. So I’m not going.” His confidence in his decision radiates around the storage room. “Plus, there’s an added benefit of getting to spend time with my girl.”
My girl.
The room tenses at that term.
We glance uneasily at one another, then away. The air heavies. It didn’t used to be like this. Not since prom.
We barely discuss what happened. How my date stood me up on the day of prom. My self-esteem leaped off a cliff into a major freefall.
That was until Garrison showed up.
He dressed in a suit and knocked on the door, ready to whisk me away and vanquish all the memories of ever being ditched.
We went as friends. That’s what we both asserted before the limo, during the dance, and even after on the ride home. Friends.
There was no kiss.
No promise of anything to come.
Just friends.
It was a good night, but a little awkward. And tense. Like staring right at a purple elephant taking up the entire dancefloor. If I’m being truthful with myself, I wanted something more. Maybe not a kiss—I’m still not sure if I’m ready for that—but he could have put his hand on the small of my back or leaned in close. Instead, it felt like I was dancing with a friend.
Which is what we are. So I shouldn’t be disappointed.
It’s just…
He obviously didn’t want to kiss me or else he would have asked like he did with hugging, right?
There was nothing standing in his way. No other boys. No school hundreds of miles up north. In fact, we’re closer than we’ve ever been now that we live in the same neighborhood again. Plus, I confessed the biggest secret of all in the limo.
I’m not actually Loren Hale’s cousin. I’m his half-sister.
“Whoa,” Garrison said, but after the shock wore off, he smiled. Not mad that I lied. He was happy that I trusted him with the precious truth.
The opportunity to make a move was right there, wasn’t it? But once that moment passed, awkwardness infiltrated tenfold.
And so the chance at prom came and flew by in May. Now August, we’ve skirted around the dance, but our friendship is solidly intact.
That’s what matters.
But I can’t deny the existence of this weird tension straining the room. I don’t know what to do, so I just look at the first thing that catches my eye.
“Um…” I stammer before nodding to issue #6 where Spider-Man webbed Deadpool’s mouth shut. “Could you hand me that? I haven’t read it yet, and it looks like a good one.”
“Yeah, sure.” He grabs the comic from the stack and passes it over. Our fingers brush, and just as I’m about to pull away, Garrison takes my hand in his.
I drop the comic.
He drops my hand.
Oh God. “Sorry, I—” I have no words. I’m bending down to pick up the comic, and Garrison follows suit, until we’re staring at each other from underneath a long wooden breakroom table that we drug into the storage area, just to sort comics.
“You don’t have to be sorry.” His own apologies skate across his features. “I’m sorry…” His nose flares.
We’re both squatting, staring at one another. Unsaid things passing between us.
He shakes his head. “Dammit, I don’t know why this is so hard. It’s never been hard to talk to you.” He rubs a hand through his hair. “But I fucked up.”
“What?” I squeak.
“At prom. I fucked up,” he says. “I should have asked you out then. It should have been prom. Not underneath…” He glances up, and I unfortunately follow suit. Wads of pink, white, and blue gum stick to the bottom of the table. Ew.
But my mind is wrapped around his other words. I should have asked you out then.
We meet each other’s gazes.
My heart thrashes. “What are you saying?”
“Will you go out with me, Willow?” he asks. “And not just as friends. I want to be your boyfriend.”
I didn’t hear him right. I must be dreaming. This is about the same time I’d ask a friend to pinch me, but my friend is the one currently asking me out. So there’s that.
“Um…” I stammer again.
Panic ascends his face. “You can say no.”
I definitely do not want to say no. But still, I hesitate.
33 BACK THEN – August
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
GARRISON ABBEY
Age 18
Willow is staring at me like I just told her we’re both joining NASA together and heading on a one-way ticket to Jupiter. Maybe that sounds more realistic than the reality. Dating me.
I know I’m not a great catch, especially since I’m officially on my third prep school. But I just thought there’s something between us.
Something more.
Unless I’ve been way off base.
Her mouth is ajar, eyes wide, startled like I’m a headlight that just blasted in front of her face. She hasn’t said a word, and I figure she’s probably questioning why we’re even friends.
I fucked it all up.
“Hey, forget about it,” I say quickly, salvaging what I can. “It’s whatever. We can just be friends.”
She reanimates abruptly. “No, I’d like you to be my…my um…”
“Boyfriend,” I finish for her. My lips lift into a smile. She’d like that.
My excitement tapers off when she says, “Yes, that. But you should know some things before you officially ask me.”
I can’t help it, I’m smiling harder. “I thought I just officially asked you.”
She pales a little, but her lips inch up. “Okay, true. But still, I need you to know what you’re asking me.”
Okay. No biggie. “Could we stand for this?” I ask. We’re still squatting underneath the table. “My quads are killing me.” Byproduct of Faust not having a lacrosse team, and now I’m getting ready to try out at Maybelwood’s. Too much conditioning this morning.
Willow nods, and at the same time, we both rise. The box of comics is situated between us, and she skims her fingers over a cover like she’s trying to take her time to gather words.
I wait. I can be patient.
A long beat passes before she lets out a tense breath. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”
“I know.”
“But it’s more than that, I’ve
never kissed a boy before.” She stares at me, head-on. “And even though I like you—like really like you—and I want you to be my boyfriend, I still don’t know if I’d be ready to kiss you right away.”
Found the origin of her hesitation.
Honestly, I’m relieved. Because I figured this much out about Willow. It’s not that big of a surprise. “I get that,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t want some label between us to flip a switch on what you’re comfortable with either. We can be boyfriend and girlfriend without kissing.”
“We can?” she asks like this scenario is unfounded and untested.
“One hundred percent,” I say. “Honestly, I really want to kiss you. But I wouldn’t pressure you. Whenever you’re ready is good with me.”
“What if I’m old and gray?” she asks.
I have a full-blown smile.
Quickly, she adds, “Not that I’m assuming we’d be together that long. Or even short.” She presses a hand to her temple. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“I’m following,” I tell her. “And I’m totally here for being senior citizens who only hug each other. It’s not like some other dude would be making out with you or having sex with you—that I wouldn’t be able to stand.”
She nods slowly like she’s almost in a daze. “Me too.” She blinks. “I mean, I also wouldn’t be able to stand some girl making out with you or…sex.” She grips the edge of the cardboard box. “So you’d really be okay with waiting? Isn’t intimacy like a foundation of a good relationship?”
“I mean, I’m not an expert,” I say, “but I think we can have intimacy without kissing or sex.”
Her eyes flit around me. “Like how?”
“Can I touch you?” I round the box to stand in front of Willow.
She nods once. I wrap my arms around her body and tuck her into my chest. My chin rests on the top of her head, and her arms kind of dangle at her sides. Her heart is a rapid, nervous organ inside her chest, thumping against me.
This tenderness doesn’t exist in my life except right here.
“Willow,” I whisper. “Can I be your boyfriend?” I ask again, this time better.
Her fingers slide against the belt loops of my pants. “Yeah. I’d like that.” And then she adds, “So I’m your girlfriend? Does this mean I’m not your girl anymore?”
Wherever You Are (Bad Reputation Duet Book 2) Page 28