Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

  “One,” he said. “But he got sent back.”

  The floor creaked, and I tipped my head up, seeing Rory lean against the door frame, watching us as he ate an apple. His gaze moved between Micah and me, something loaded happening behind them.

  “And I wasn’t unhappy about it,” Micah added, humor in his voice as he looked at the other man.

  I glanced between them, the vibe making my blood warm.

  I was pretty sure these two might just be happy staying here for the rest of their lives if they had each other.

  “Would Rory mind if you helped me with my hair?” I asked Micah.

  He grinned, kind of devilishly, and picked up the shampoo, pouring some into his hand.

  I closed my eyes as he spread it across my hair, lathering it up, and I knew Rory was watching us as I imagined Will watching me through the glass.

  I let my head fall back, and he poured water over my scalp again and again as it rinsed my hair and coursed down my body. The fabric of the white tank top chafed the hard points of my nipples.

  His fingers trailed down my hair, squeezing the water out, and I almost shivered, it felt so good.

  All I could feel were the eyes behind the glass on me, and I gripped the sides of the tub, liking it.

  “I think I better go,” Micah finally said.

  I opened my eyes to Rory still leaning against the door frame, but he’d stopped eating and stared at Micah, his gaze piercing.

  “He needs me more than you do right now,” Micah joked.

  My thighs hummed. Damn.

  “Thank you.” I sighed, not ready to give up the attention.

  But I totally understood.

  “Anytime.”

  He walked toward the door, his T-shirt still dangling out of his back pocket, and then he turned to close the door.

  “Oh, and the gift is from Aydin,” he said, pointing to the floor next to the tub.

  I peered over the edge, finding an old, rectangular wooden case and picked it up, opening the rusted clasp. Flipping the lid, I saw mechanical pencils, a French curve, a T-square, an eraser, a compass…

  I darted my gaze to Micah. These were drawing tools.

  “You can walk freely about the house,” he told me. “No one is to touch you, Aydin says.” And then he smiled, adding, “Unless you invite us to.”

  He closed the door, Rory’s laugh echoing down the hall.

  Emory

  Nine Years Ago

  Five-hundred pairs of feet stomped the bleachers, cheering their respective teams, and I watched Will shoot another two-pointer from the top of the key.

  Howls filled the air as the ball fell through the net, and we raised our instruments, playing a few notes to celebrate the moment.

  Elle’s arm pressed into mine, and I shifted to keep my balance. The whole place was packed, and I looked across the court to Morrow Sands’s cheer section, seeing it filled with a lot more girls than guys.

  It was funny how good-looking basketball players could suddenly spark an interest in just about anything for teenage girls. Everyone was a basketball fan now.

  The center passed the ball to Michael Crist, and he dribbled it, running the rest of the way down the court, passing it to Damon Torrance.

  Damon caught it and bounced it up and down on the floor, two girls waving to him to where he stood in the wing. He shot the ball, and it bounced off the rim, spilling over.

  Will caught it, jumped up, and dunked it, the buzzer blaring through the auditorium as it fell through.

  I smiled, catching sight of his grin.

  Everyone was a basketball fan now.

  Cheers filled the room, and I glanced at the scoreboard.

  59-65, Thunder Bay.

  A close call.

  The coaches and players on the bench swarmed the floor, and I lifted my flute as everyone else raised their instruments. We belted out the school song, all the attendees on our side singing along.

  I watched Will, smiling as he hung onto his friends as the auditorium echoed with noise, chatter, and music, celebrating the win.

  Not that I cared. I barely ever paid attention, only knowing it was my moment when the others around me stood up or readied their instruments.

  Will pulled off his shirt, sweat glistening on his back and darkening his chocolate hair as he swung the shirt over his shoulder and nodded to whatever some guy from the opposing team was saying to him. I let my eyes trail down his spine.

  I paid attention to the game tonight, though. He was good.

  And he was fun to watch.

  I followed the rest of the band off the bleachers as everyone started to clear the gym, and we made our way into a spare room to put our instruments away.

  But then some girl yelled, “Emmy, catch!”, and I spun around just as a cup of something ice-cold crashed into my chest.

  I sucked in a breath as cola spilled down my navy and white uniform, seeping through my pants, down my legs, and coating my flute.

  I shot my eyes up. Are you kidding me?

  Maisie Vos hung over the railing of the bleachers, feigning a look of surprise before breaking into a laugh.

  “I thought you were the trash!” she explained, jogging down the bleachers and rounding them to approach me. “I mean, you clear our trash at school, so I thought you’d help me out here. That’s what I meant. Sorry.”

  Air poured in and out of my lungs, but I still couldn’t catch my breath. She did that on purpose.

  Elle stopped at my side, gaping, while others tiptoed around us, laughing under their breaths. A couple of guys followed Maisie, all seniors at my school, and I wanted to spew every dirty word in the book at them and their stupid faces.

  But I just swallowed it down, because if not, then they’d win. They’d know that they mattered.

  This was just my weekly reminder that I wasn’t one of them.

  “What’s going on?” Will said, coming through the crowd with his shirt still hanging over his shoulder.

  Maisie bit back her grin, while the two guys she was with made no effort to hide their amusement.

  Will looked me up and down as the soda dripped off my clothes and flute, and then he turned his narrowed eyes on the two guys.

  “Cover me,” he gritted out.

  They stopped laughing, and I watched as Michael, Damon, and Kai took up position, surrounding Will as he stepped up to Hardy Reed and Silas Betchel.

  The two boys straightened, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and no one said anything as the Horsemen shielded Will’s body from our view.

  What…?

  I looked around Michael to try see what was happening, but all I could catch was Will staring into Silas’s and Hardy’s eyes, doing something with his hands, but I couldn’t see what.

  Then, Will froze, blinked once, and I heard it. The steady stream, almost like something was being ripped in a slow, constant line.

  A wicked smile spread across Damon’s lips as Silas squeezed his eyes shut, and Hardy’s chest moved up and down faster as he turned his head away and cursed under his breath, “Son of a bitch.”

  But whatever Will was doing, they stood there and took it.

  After a moment, Will shifted again, never breaking eye contact as the Horsemen backed away and Silas and Hardy came into full view.

  The whole place erupted in hoots and laughter.

  My eyes fell, seeing the streams of piss wetting their jeans all the way down to their shoes, and Maisie dropped her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks as everyone made fun of her boyfriend standing there in a mess.

  I clenched my teeth. They weren’t fucking laughing now.

  Will bent down and swiped the cup off the floor and tossed it in the trash, but before he could meet my eyes, I spun around to leave.

  The muscles in my throat ached as I struggled to keep back the tears.

  But someone shouted behind me again, “Emmy, here.”

  I tensed, but then a cheerleader rushed up and dug inside her backpack, taking out some c
lothes and handing them to me. Band came here in our uniforms. I didn’t have anything to change into.

  I was tempted to toss it back at her and choke on my pride, but Martin would drill me if I came home like this.

  I nodded once in thanks. “I’ll bring them back Monday.”

  And I made my way for the bathroom to wipe up and change.

  My chin trembled, everything threatening to spill over, and I didn’t know why. Stuff like that had happened before. It was no big deal. It wasn’t like it happened all the time.

  I could’ve shoved Maisie if I wanted to. Yelled at her, maybe. Definitely bit back a little.

  This time I just wanted to run. I didn’t want anyone to see me, like I was so embarrassing I wanted to erase myself from people’s memories and cease to exist.

  Just disappear.

  I cleaned and stashed my flute, changed clothes, and stuck in my earbuds, carrying my instrument and bag to the bus. It was an hour drive back to Thunder Bay, and I wished I could damn-well walk it.

  Hanging my head, I charged toward the back of the vehicle, slid into an empty seat, and dumped my case and clothes on the floor. I held my phone in my hand, my playlist on Teenage Witch as I stared out the window.

  People passed me, quiet and not a snicker to be heard, because Will Grayson had cast his net, letting them all know I was off limits.

  It was actually okay. Scared or not, most of them weren’t going to sit down next to me anyway. They never did.

  The bus filled up, and I waited for the seat next to me to dip, but as the doors closed, the lights dimmed, and the engine started, I remained solo.

  I chewed the corner of my mouth to hide the tremble. What did I care? What did it matter that I’d been humiliated again? What did it matter that he saw that in the gym?

  The tears welled.

  He saw me. He saw that happen to me.

  He saw what the whole world thought of me, and now he…

  Now he…

  A hand slipped under mine, warm and smooth, and I snapped my head left, seeing Will in the seat next to me.

  What…?

  A lump filled my throat as I gaped at the side of his face, wanting to be raging mad that he was there and touching me again without my permission, but…

  He curled his fingers, gripping me, and…and it took a moment to get a hold of myself.

  Finally, I forced a scowl and yanked my hand away.

  Or tried to.

  He wouldn’t let go. Or look at me. He just tossed his black hoodie over our hands and chatted to the guy in the next seat like I wasn’t here.

  My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the music from my earbuds, and I had to force my breathing to slow down.

  I closed my eyes and turned toward the window. Why was he doing this?

  And why was I just sitting here? The warmth from his strong fingers seeped into mine as he held me, and I looked over at him again, seeing him slouched in the seat, long legs stretched into the aisle as the players, cheerleaders, and band carried on around us.

  He just stared at his phone now like there was nothing going on underneath the hoodie between us. Like he wasn’t completely aware that he was holding me.

  It took three tries, but I eventually swallowed, wetting my dry throat as I pulled his sweatshirt over us more, making sure our hands were covered. Maybe he thought I didn’t want anyone to see. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to see. Either way, I didn’t care anymore.

  The bus jostled side to side, taking us back onto the highway, and I fisted my hand, too, a fire burning low in my belly at the feel of his skin.

  Movement caught my eye ahead, but I didn’t look up because I knew what it was. Desi Castro sat in our center’s lap, reverse cowgirl, and through the dim moonlight and shadows, I was pretty sure they were being fairly fucking stupid—albeit quietly—in the seat in front of us.

  Her long, red locks draped over the back of the seat, and I finally raised my eyes as she leaned back against him, their lips barely touching as their bodies moved slow but rhythmic in the darkness.

  Will rubbed his thumb across my finger, and my stomach flipped, the gesture comforting.

  My phone beeped, and I turned over my right hand, unlocking the screen with my thumb. The phone lit up my place by the window, rain pummeling the bus as we drove through the dark night.

  “Let me take you home,” it read.

  I clicked my music off, glancing over and seeing his phone in his hand, too—the same text visible.

  “No,” I typed back.

  I couldn’t let him take me home. Not ever. I tried to pull away from his hand, but he clasped it tightly.

  “Let me take you home,” he typed again.

  I clenched my teeth and turned my eyes out the window. I tried to pull my hand away once more, but he grasped it, forcing it instead onto my thigh, his fingers grazing my skin there.

  A bolt of lightning shot through me, but instead of being angry, butterflies swarmed in my stomach and I squeezed my eyes shut. Leaving him there.

  My phone beeped, and it took a moment to look at it. “I want to hold you like that,” it said.

  I glanced up at Miller and Desi again, his arms wrapped around her, and I pictured myself in Will’s lap, parked off some dark road in the rain, and it took everything I had not to look at him, because if I did, he’d know…

  He would know that I didn’t always hate him. A sliver of my brain was starting to believe there was more to him.

  But I shoved his hand off, biting the corner of my mouth to keep the emotions away.

  “Cops came to the warehouse and took all the tappers,” someone said loud enough to pierce my earbuds.

  I turned my head enough to see a cheerleader, Lynlee Hoffman, across the aisle, looking back at Will.

  He sat there, his hand still under the hoodie, acting like everything was completely normal. “Oh, yeah?” he said.

  But he didn’t give a shit.

  Lynlee shot me a look, narrowing her eyes and lifting her chin, because if they found out there was a party, it was because I had told my brother, right? As if the cops had to be geniuses to figure out a win always equaled a kegger at the warehouse. Duh.

  I turned up the volume on my music again, drowning out any other sounds and tapped my thumbs, typing out a message. “Take her home. She’ll drool all over your dumb haircut and extensive knowledge of micro-brews and penis jokes.”

  I mean, he was a jock.

  I felt him shake with a laugh next to me.

  He typed, letters flashing on his screen. “I take you home, or I take you in my lap right here. Decide.”

  I ground my teeth together.

  Everyone would see that. If my brother heard about it, I’d…

  Jesus.

  Damon leaned up from behind us, squeezing Will’s shoulders and talking in his ear. Will laughed at whatever he said, no one the wiser.

  My phone beeped again. “Almost there,” he warned.

  I shook my head. “People will see,” I typed out.

  “Then make sure they don’t.”

  He pulled the hoodie off us and slipped it over his head, covering his white, sleeveless T-shirt and his tan, toned, beautiful arms that always made my mouth hang open like an imbecile.

  We entered Thunder Bay, heading back to our campus where everyone would pick up their cars and head to parties, but I’d be walking and heading straight home, as always.

  I stared out the window, seeing the village breeze past, the twinkle lights of the park, and my neighborhood before we got up into the cliffs where Will and the wealthy resided. Part of me wanted it. Part of me loved how good his attention felt, because he was cocky and confident and good-looking and smooth. He was popular, looked great in everything he wore, and I liked his smile.

  He was untouchable, and he wanted to touch me.

  Tonight, anyway.

  My eyes dropped to my lap. Even if I wanted to, though, my brother would never tolerate it.

  The ph
one vibrated in my hand once, and then again and again, but I just bobbed my head to the music like I didn’t notice. The school came into view, and liquid heat rushed my chest, but I ignored it. I was almost out of here, and he could spend the rest of the night taking whomever he wanted home, for all I cared.

  We were nothing.

  Another text came in, and I finally looked.

  “When the bus stops, get in my fucking truck.”

  I breathed out a bitter laugh. Aw, someone’s lost his temper.

  “Why?” I asked.

  And the next thing I know, the bus stopped, he yanked the earbuds out of my ears, and I sucked in a breath as he leaned into my face.

  “Because you’re mine,” he growled in a whisper.

  And all at once, the Horsemen rose from their seats, grabbed their bags, and charged down the aisle, leaving the bus first.

  My heart hammered. What the—

  Seriously.

  Because you’re mine. I ignored the flutter in my chest as I grabbed my bag and fumbled for my dangling earbuds.

  I mean, for Christ’s sake. What was his deal? Was I on some scavenger hunt he was doing or something? Nail the Nerd?

  I rose with everyone else and stepped into the aisle, getting ready to leave the bus.

  I’m not yours, Will Grayson.

  And I’ll walk, thanks.

  The bus emptied, engines out in the parking lot already firing up and headlights glowing in the night. I walked to the undercarriage to see if anyone needed help with their equipment, but it was empty already, the band and players quickly clearing out.

  I turned to bolt and make my escape before he saw me, but Elle clasped my hand.

  “We’re getting a ride home,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “Will,” Elle explained, pulling me along. “He’s taking us home.”

  “Um, no.” I yanked my hand away. “He’s not.”

  “You don’t want me riding alone with him, do you?” She planted her hands on her hips. “A mature guy, used to getting what he wants?”

  “Then you shouldn’t have agreed to it.”

  Pivoting back around, I headed toward the gates to go home.

  “But tomorrow I can say I rode in his truck,” she whined, jogging up to the side of me.