My head falls upon a lap. Strong arms wrap comfort me in my weakness. I’m enveloped by the warmth of her body protecting me. She rocks me, consoling. Absorbing my pain and making it her own.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” she says in my ear. “For what he did to you.” Because she knows. “I scream out his name too sometimes.”
The name she screams may be different than mine. But he’s still the same person. The one who didn’t hear us say no. Who made me start punching first. The one who took away my beliefs. And then cast my curse upon me.
“I trusted you,” my grandmother’s final words. And that trust killed her.
One day, Thaylina caught sight of the green cloak fluttering in the breeze as it darted between the trees. She followed it into the forest, her dagger strapped to thigh. The huntress snuck up upon the beast disguised as a man as he lulled a woman with a sultry song.
Ashton walks me back to the dorm. She won’t let go of my hand, even though I keep promising her that I’m better. And I do feel better. Everyone really does need a screaming spot.
I hug Ashton and leave her outside my door, still wearing a worried expression. I try to smile to reassure her … but it’s not very reassuring.
I’m too exhausted to do anything but shower and dress in a tank top and shorts to crawl into bed. My brand new bed. The room is spectacular, and I want to appreciate it more, but I can’t even focus enough to take in all of the magnificence that Serge and Ashton put into the space.
I do know the bed is huge and feels like a cloud. I knock off the pile of pillows (an abundance of throw pillows must be a designer thing) and slip under the silky pale grey sheets. The duvet is silvery blue and is the softest thing ever. Above me, sheer curtains encase the bed, hung from poles attached to the ceiling. I leave the sheers open and lay on my side.
Small lights dance across the wall in a random pattern. They remind me of … fireflies. I smile. I guess I’m glad that I do tell Ashton everything. Or everything pertaining to Grant anyway.
A plush navy-blue couch is pushed up against the wall with an oval, shiny-white coffee table in front of it, set upon a silvery-blue rug that matches the duvet.
A new desk replaces the old one in the same spot. This one is metallic silver, and it has an ornate bookcase attached to it, teetering toward the ceiling so high that it’s tempting gravity.
Words are painted in black against the white walls in the most elegant calligraphy I’ve ever seen.
Honesty.
Belief.
Trust.
Kindness.
Boldness.
Authenticity.
Thoughtfulness.
Honor.
Loyalty.
Respect.
Confidence.
Perception.
Nobility.
Perfection.
Compassion.
The curses. All of the ones I’ve revealed to Ashton, including who belonged to them. In the middle of all of our ruin are Squirrel’s wise words. The same ones Grant repeated.
Love never hurts. Ever.
I laugh. She’s not subtle, is she?
A knock jostles me from near sleep. “I swear I’m alright,” I yell, knowing it’s Ashton.
“Open up!” she demands.
I groan, crawl out of the comfort of the huge bed and turn on the light.
When I open the door, I blink. Standing behind Ashton are Brendan, Lance and … Grant.
“How—”
Before I can finish that sentence, Ashton pushes her way in. “We’re having a sleepover. I call big spoon.”
The guys slip by me with a nod hello. Grant stops in front of me and searches my eyes. When I smile weakly, he pulls me into him and hugs me tight. I feel like crying again, but don’t have any more tears left. I bury my face in his chest and hug him back.
“I’m—”
“Don’t say it,” he tells me before I can apologize. His voice is firm like there’s no room for argument. So I squeeze him tighter.
“Um, you might want to close the door before we get busted,” Lance says, jumping up and landing in a sprawled position on the couch.
Grant closes the door.
“How did you guys get up here?” I ask, then look to Grant. “Especially you?”
“I just never left,” he explains. “Lily drove us, so I told her to go without me. And…” He hesitates.
“We’re sworn to secrecy,” Lance explains.
I search for Brendan and he winks.
“Another one of your secret passages?”
“Wait. You know about them?” Lance asks, sounding insulted once again that he was left out.
“Long story,” I say. “But you guys don’t have to—”
“Shut it,” Brendan growls. “We’re here. We’re staying. Get in bed so we can all cuddle.”
“Wait. Uh.” Grant leans in and whispers. “Is there somewhere private we can talk a second?”
I motion toward the door to the bathroom that I share with the room next to mine. Which is currently empty.
“We don’t want to hear you having sex!” Ashton hollers.
Grant’s eyes widen.
“He doesn’t find toilets seductive,” I reply with a cheeky grin. “I already tried that.”
Grant laughs, recalling the day he walked in on me drying off boob sweat in the ninth hole shack’s bathroom.
The guys don’t get it, so they just eye me like I’m crazy. Ashton laughs because of course she knows. Except now that I re-examine their faces, Brendan’s looking at Grant like he’s crazy. I shake my head at him and follow Grant into the bathroom.
The first thing he does is turn on the light.
“Is this okay?” he asks, scanning the small bathroom that houses a shower and toilet.
“Yeah,” I assure him with an appreciative smile. “Just keep the light on.”
“I’m deathly afraid of spiders, just so you know. Your claustrophobia has nothing on my reaction to finding one of those things on me.”
He evokes a laugh, which I know is what he was trying to do. To help me feel better about my panic attack in the library.
I love this guy. Dammit. Stupid Squirrel and his magical brownies.
Grant’s eyes narrow, looking down at my hand. Then they widen in alarm. He gently cradles my right hand and examines it. It’s red, swollen, and scraped raw. “Can you bend your fingers?”
“Not right now. It’s throbbing and feels like it’s on fire, but I don’t think it’s broken.” I don’t tell him that I’ve fractured my hand before … and my wrist—which forced me to learn how to throw a punch properly.
“Have you iced it?”
I shake my head.
Grant sticks his head out of the bathroom. “Ashton, do you have ice or ice packs?”
I don’t hear Ashton’s answer before Grant closes the door again. “Guess it was too much anger for a phone call, huh?”
“Yeah.” My answer is hushed. “Way too much.”
“I’d hate to see whatever took the brunt of it.” He smiles softly.
“It didn’t move, so I kind of lost this fight.”
“But did you?” he asks, his blue eyes peering right into me. “I mean, do you feel … any better?”
“I do.” And there’s more honesty in those two words than I can possibly relay. But I know he sees it in my eyes.
“Good.” He shifts uncomfortably before continuing. “This could probably wait, but part of me doesn’t feel like it should.”
I’m silent.
“Lily and I used to date.”
I lean back against the wall, needing to brace myself.
“I didn’t tell you because of your rule. When you first told me about it, I wasn’t sure what to do because we were still just flirting. And I really didn’t know if you and Lily were friends. I mean, I knew you weren’t before you came to Blackwood because I would have heard about you. So, I wasn’t positive if that applied. Because you weren’t frie
nds with her when we dated.” He’s nervously over-explaining. It’s so fricken endearing and cute. I decide to put him out of his misery, shutting his mouth with my lips.
Grant wraps his arms around me and holds me close, like he’s thanking me with a hug. I pull away before the kiss can progress. “I know. Parker told me today.”
He leans back a bit. “I’m trying not to be the crazed jealous guy, but can you please explain you and Harrison brothers? I spoke to Wil—”
“You what?” I interrupt.
“Yeah, the night of your birthday. He asked if he could crash at Stefan’s. Said something about …” He closes his eyes in realization. I raise my brows to encourage him to continue. He sighs. “He said it was probably safer. Just realized what that meant.” I bite my lip, knowing exactly what that meant too. “Anyway, I told him I was interested in you, and that I knew the two of you had history. And I wanted to be sure it was okay, that it wouldn’t affect our friendship or make it strained between him and you.”
“You did that?” I ask in shock.
“Yeah, of course. I thought it was the right thing to do. And that’s why I told Lily about you today. I needed her to know that … well, how I felt. She and I dated for a long time, and I still care about her. But I needed to be honest.”
“Your curse …” I shake my head in disbelief. “And could Lily and I be any more opposite? Are you sure you’re not rebounding?”
Grant laughs. “Really?” I nod. He becomes serious. “No. I’m not. We broke it off last December. And the reason we decided to end things is because she wasn’t being honest with me. She was shutting me out, and I didn’t know why.”
“You both decided to end things, not just her?”
“We talked about it and decided together after I told her I felt disconnected. She couldn’t explain what was happening with her and wasn’t willing to share. I knew it had to do with her family. But it was impossible to be there for her, to be a part of her life if she couldn’t confide in me. And I need that. Honesty is really important to me.”
“You’d prefer full, unabridged, blatant, sometimes cruel, and always sarcastic honesty?”
“Completely,” Grant says flashing me his gorgeous smile.
“You may be an idiot,” I tell him, chuckling.
He laughs, hard. A deep, rumbling laughter. “I’m an idiot? So does that mean, you are too?”
I crinkle my eyes in confusion.
“The first time we spoke, you said you’d have to be an idiot to fall—”
“Oh!” I stop him. “Oh!” My lungs just collapsed. “Uh …” I take a deep breath. “Um.”
He laughs at my inability to say a single coherent word. “Lana, I’m confessing. I am an idiot.”
“O-kay.” My breathing is labored—my heart is constricting airflow because it’s beating so fast … in my throat. “Anyway,”—the worst segue ever after he just confessed to being in love with me—“Parker and I are close, but we’re just friends. The Harrisons, the whole family, have this weird protective gene, and they look out for me, for reasons unknown. I’m kind of stuck with them.”
Allowing my awkward change of subject to slide, Grant asks, “That’s why Lance is your chaperone?”
“Yeah. His father—”
I’m interrupted by a loud bang on the door. “Get dressed! I need to use the bathroom,” Brendan hollers from the other side.
“Hold it for one more minute!” I yell back.
“What’s his story?” Grant asks, nodding toward the door.
“He’s a necessary evil.”
Grant chuckles. Then leans down and kisses me gently. “Let’s ice your hand.”
When we emerge, Ashton and Brendan look disappointed that we aren’t flushed and disheveled. Lance just eyes Grant warily, like he’s trying to decide if his intentions are honorable. Seriously, the overprotective brother vibe is getting worse. Although, I think he tends to forget that he’s a year younger than me.
I crawl on the bed next to Ashton and she places the ice pack on my hand with a pained expression, securing it with an ace bandage. She has me take a couple ibuprofen too. “If it doesn’t look better in the morning, we should go to the clinic for x-rays.”
“They have an x-ray machine on campus?” I ask in surprise.
“Of course,” Ashton answers. “They want to keep all medical information sealed, or as much possible. The press loves that stuff.”
“And I thought Printz-Lee was big on privacy.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Lance tells him, his head propped on a throw pillow with a blanket that I’ve never seen before covering him. “I claim the couch, by the way. No way I want to be anywhere near that bed with the four of you in it.”
“Lance!” I scold. “We’re not—”
“Speak for yourself,” Brendan says, washing his hands at the pedestal sink.
“Keep your pants on,” I tell him, my tone threatening.
“C’mon,” Ashton beckons, pulling the blanket back. “I already called big spoon, so get in here, Lana.”
Grant takes off his shoes and socks and crawls across to the far side against the wall in shorts and a t-shirt. Brendan turns off the lights and I slide in next to Grant, facing him, while Ashton takes her big spoon position behind me. And I don’t want to think about Brendan on the other side of her. We all fit … barely.
“Your room is pretty amazing.” Grant is focused on the ceiling. I tilt my head up to see tiny lights blinking like shining stars above the bed.
“Ashton did it for me,” I tell him. She squeezes me with her arm draped around my waist.
“Do you like it?” she asks, almost sounding nervous, which is so not like her. A swarm of guilt overtakes me. I should have said something to her a long time ago.
“I love it. Thank you. I still haven’t seen everything, but it’s incredible.”
Grant sits up, as he notices the far wall. “Are those?” He doesn’t finish. He sees the fireflies. Or I think that’s what he’s looking at. There’s a lot to take in, but there’s not much light to see anything else.
Ashton giggles.
“You know?” Grant asks, settling down beside me.
“I know everything. So get used to it.”
Grant laughs.
“Everything?” Brendan asks anxiously, and I want to throttle him. At the same time, Lance demands, “Know what?”
“I hope so,” Ashton sounds alarmed. “What don’t I know?”
“What don’t I know?” Lance echoes. “What the hell?”
I can’t open my mouth. My silence is Brendan’s assurance that I haven’t told Ashton anything he and I agreed not to, so he answers, “You both know everything you’re supposed to.”
I hear Lance grumble, dissatisfied with that response.
“Why did Ashton redecorate your room?” Grant asks.
Now we’re all silent.
“Why, what happened?” He leans up on his elbow, searching for someone to answer him.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I assure him, setting my hand on his shoulder to coax him back down.
“There’s a lot I don’t know, isn’t there? You four have a thing between you, like some sort of bond that connects you?” Grant questions, recognizing something I hadn’t. But he’s right. We are bonded by something inexplicable. Maybe fate brought us together … but that would mean I’d have to believe in it.
“I thought I was cursed with Perception,” Brendan says.
“How do you—” but I stop myself from asking him how he knows about the curses—Ashton told him.
“Is this what girls do when they have sleepovers?” Lance asks from the couch. “Say they’re going to sleep, but then talk all night?”
“Are we keeping you up past your bedtime?” Brendan mocks.
“You’re still on my suspect list,” Lance calls to him.
“Suspect list?” Grant asks.
We all say together, “Tomorrow.” And then laugh.
Gr
ant shifts so he’s facing me and takes ahold of my uninjured hand. His eyes focus on mine, and they shine in the twinkling light. I want to lean over and kiss him, but prefer not to open that door with Ashton and Brendan behind me. So we just lay there, silently talking with subtle twitches of our lips, a quirk of a brow, and gleam in our eyes. Until one of us, I don’t know who does it first, closes their eyes and drifts to sleep.
Within the protection of the big spoon, with Brendan and Lance breathing heavily in the background, and Grant’s hand firmly gripping mine, I whisper, “I’m an idiot too.”
I crack an eye open to see Grant’s lips curve into a brilliant smile.
With the sun faintly shimmering through the windows, I squint to find Ashton staring at me. Grant has taken over the big spoon position behind me, and Brendan is a sloppy spoon with an arm around Ashton and his face planted in the pillow behind her.
She smiles brightly when I blink awake, a little freaked that she been watching us sleep.
“Sorry if I have morning breath,” she whispers.
“I can’t smell it, but you may want to stay where you are just in case.”
As quietly as she can, she half-mouths and half-whispers, “I love this.” She nods toward me and Grant cuddled together. “I’m trying really hard not to use the word together. But seriously, get over it.”
I try to contain my laughter so I don’t wake Grant.
I look over at her and Brendan. I adore her. Him, not so much. So I don’t understand his appeal. “Pretend they’re not here and answer honestly. What do you like about Brendan? Because I don’t get it.”
“He can be the sweetest, most thoughtful person when he’s not being an egotistical asshole. And nice guys aren’t my thing, remember?” Ashton makes a scrunched up face when he squeezes her waist, fighting to hold in her squeal. When she opens her eyes again, she asks, “What do you like about Grant?”
“That he’s not capable of being an egotistical asshole.”
I can feel his breathy laugh as his chest shakes behind me.
“What do you like about me?!” Lance shouts. Apparently everyone’s awake and listening.
“Pretend you didn’t hear him,” Ashton whispers loudly. I smile. She raises her voice. “So Lana, what do you like about Lance?”
Knowing You_The Cursed Series Part 2 Page 28