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“What happened?” The million dollar question, but before I can formulate a deflection, a white lie, her hand perches lightly on top of my bad knee, and even through my sweats and the knee brace, I can feel it.
I can always feel her. I’m sure I’d feel her presence in a fucking crowd in a fucking zombie apocalypse.
That’s how screwed I am when it comes to her. I’ve been aware of her ever since Cassie started bringing her along to Halo, the bar where we like to meet and shoot some pool in the evenings.
Haven’t been there in a long while.
And although she’s right here, holding my hand, she might as well be on the moon for the good it does me.
I can’t have her.
“Seth.” She pulls her hand and I let her go. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. Let her go. “I hope you don’t think I’m too pushy. I… like you.” She blushes and my mouth goes dry. “You’re a nice guy.”
But not the one she wants. This accepting your fate thing is so much harder when I’m close to her.
“I was hoping we could be friends.” She’s looking at me, cautious and expectant and beautiful. She’s everything I want.
I need to stop wanting her.
It’s easier to stop breathing.
“We can be friends,” I say, the words like bitter drops on my tongue.
She smiles, then, and the bitterness fades. “Thank you. I don’t have many friends. I didn’t go to school near here, and the guys from dance school…” She scrunches up her nose again, and I love that. “Let’s just say they’re not interested in friendships.”
“Why not?”
“It’s very competitive, you know?” She looks at me, expecting me to understand, so I nod. Her eyes are bright. “And exhausting and takes up all our time. We can’t afford to spend time on anything else, and—”
The light in her eyes goes out.
Fuck, that’s right. She’s not a part of that anymore. Her lips tremble before she presses them together hard, refusing to cry, and if I wasn’t gone for her already, I’d have fallen for her right now.
She’s a fighter. I knew it.
“Shall we try this once more?” I ask, and she gives me a blank stare. “This sleeping thing. I’m seriously beat, and you look like you could use some rest, too. What do you say?”
Because we’re friends and all. Practically siblings, goddammit.
But when she sighs and lies back down beside me, trusting, warm and real, I don’t fucking care.
I mean, well played, fate. Well played. Okay, I give in. I’ll accept the pitiful scraps you throw my way.
And I’ll be damn grateful.
***
My knee is broken. The doctor explained it to me. Blunt-force injury. Broken ligaments. Broken meniscus. Broken everything.
Like I am. Curled up on my bunk bed in prison, I feel the pain radiating upward, right into my soul. Still don’t know how long I’ll be locked up this time, but it’s looking bad. I’m seventeen now, and it seems the state has decided I’m old enough to be tried as an adult. The lawyers aren’t optimistic.
No adult to take my side, support my case. Parents absent. My mother gone.
She’s dead. If she were alive, she’d have come back for me, called me. Visited me. Right?
Right?
The guards step come down the hallway, and I shiver, curl up tighter. I’ll get out of here. I won’t be here forever. Shane. I hope Shane is okay, but I know he’s not. His Native blood is easier to see than mine. Plus he looks younger than me. I hear stories circulating among the prisoners, and I know he’s living a nightmare.
