Going Geek (24 page)

“I guess you know how I voted.” He nudges me, and I smile without looking at him. We reach Albright and hurry through the glass doors to escape the cold.

When it was rebuilt in the 1990s, Albright caused quite an outrage with its white cinder-block-and-glass exterior. People were scandalized and even compared it to the glass pyramid at the Louvre, which I guess was very controversial back then.

Since the gallery's open to the public, there are people walking around, studying the art. Some sit with sketch pads, others listen to headsets with recorded information about the famous pieces.

I glance over most of it, really only interested in finding Declan's drawings. If Leo notices that I'm not really taking it all in, he doesn't mention it.

“This fall has been so tough,” Leo says.

“I have to say, getting moved to Abbot might've been a blessing in disguise. Those girls were so supportive, and they weren't under any obligation to be.” That wasn't meant to be a dig, but he looks stung. I don't even consider apologizing.

Leo stops in front of a large painting of a red square on a white canvas. “I'm glad. Not about the way things happened. But that you got to see a different side of Winthrop.”

And suddenly my patience and curiosity evaporate. Leo's sincerity feels condescending. “Thanks. I was as surprised as anyone that there's life outside the quad. So are you still dating that girl?”

He meets my gaze. “You mean Miranda?”

I suppress a sigh. “Sure. Whatever.”

“That didn't work out.”

“Oh. Shame.” I study Leo and try to picture us back together. He's still achingly handsome and intelligent; even after everything that's happened, I still think he's one of the kindest people I've ever met.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He seems uncomfortable, and I realize that I've been staring at him analytically, even critically.

“Sorry. I guess I'm trying to figure out what we're doing. You made it pretty clear at your game that we weren't getting back together.”

We step back into the hall and walk to the next room. Leo takes a deep breath. “I know. Are you mad that I wanted to hang out?”

“No, of course not. But I guess I want to know what it means.”

“Is it okay if I say I don't know?” I must look either extremely disappointed or severely pissed—or maybe both, since I can't decide which one I am. Because he says, “I'm sorry. That's pretty weak after all this time. I just wanted to talk more after what I heard you say.”

“Okay.” Am I fine with that? Do I want this to be more than that? I have no idea.

Leo nods. “When you were up there, I realized that I was wrong in thinking you were someone I don't know. The things I loved most about you are obviously still there.” He searches for the right words. “Your loyalty, your optimism…”

My eyes are locked on his. I can't think or look away. What am I supposed to say? I worked so hard to let go of him. It's one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. And yet letting him back in would be so easy and, in many ways, such a relief. “What are you thinking?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I whisper.

“Look, I don't know. I just wanted to acknowledge that I've missed you and that I'm happy that you really are the person I thought you were. You know?”

I nod, like I have any idea what he's talking about. “Yeah.”

We get to the last room, and without reading any of the tags by the pieces, I know we've found Declan's exhibit.

There are only twelve drawings. All of them are done on white paper with pencil. I turn and look at a rendering of a bowl. “This is nice,” Leo says. “We probably have a lot more to talk about, and I totally understand that my reaction hurt you.”

I keep nodding as I move ahead of him. When I get to the last piece on the wall, I draw in a sharp, surprised breath.

It's the drawing Declan did of me while I was in the studio. I'd seen it before, but it looks different, finished and displayed on a wall. It's also his only drawing of a person, which makes me feel weirdly vulnerable and exposed.

I turn away, hoping Leo won't see the tears forming in my eyes. But he does and comes closer to me. “Are you okay? You don't even like art.” Then he notices the piece. He can't stop staring at it. “Wow,” he finally says.

Because anyone looking at it would know the artist had feelings for the subject. I admire Declan for being so brave, but I'm also flustered.

Leo moves to the next wall, not angry but clearly thrown off. “I didn't know that was here,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm. “Leo. You were an amazing boyfriend, and if I could go back to the way things were, I probably would.” Tears start falling down my cheeks, and I brush them away impatiently. “But you weren't there when I needed you. And you totally underestimated me. You were the person who knew me best, and you didn't think I was capable of the things I've done.”

“That's not true,” Leo protests.

“Yes it is. I saw how surprised you were on Halloween about Ghouls and Graves being my idea, and I'm getting the same incredulous look from you now. Do you have any idea how shitty that feels? A group of total strangers believed in me more than my best friends and my boyfriend.”

The look on his face guts me. He covers my hand with one of his. “Maybe I did screw up, but you left me hanging,” I say. Leo looks down. I still hate seeing him hurt. “Trust me, all I wanted was to get you back, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but things have changed, and even though you might be able to see me as the same person, I'm not.”

He stands there, arms hanging limply at his sides. “I'm sorry,” he finally says.

“Me too.”

I slip into the back of the concert hall just as Yasmin is finishing her solo. And she's killing it. The entire room is enthralled, watching her.

She's in complete control, inhabiting the music, drawing out some notes for effect and then flowing effortlessly over others. She wears a long, pleated steel-blue skirt and a navy short-sleeved cashmere sweater; her face is all concentration and feeling. And I've never seen her look more breathtakingly beautiful.

I see Declan sitting in the middle of the audience. His head is tipped back, eyes closed, feeling the music. I need to thank him for including me in his show, and after that I don't know where to begin.

W
hen the concert lets out, I'm the first one to the door. While everyone else is in a state of bliss, I'm wired, buzzing with nerves. Most head back to the main campus to squeeze in a little more hanging out before curfew. I stand next to the entrance, waiting for Declan.

Opal and Remy come out. “Did you see any of it?” Opal asks.

“I saw the end. She was so amazing. I wish I brought her flowers.”

“Bettina got her some from all of us.” Opal notices the distracted, crazed look on my face and turns to Remy. “Where's Declan?”

Remy shrugs. “He must still be inside.”

I run back in, but there's no sign of him. Yasmin's talking with teachers and some of the other musicians at the foot of the stage. I squeeze in to give her a hug. “I caught some of your solo. You did a beautiful job.”

“Thank you. Opal said the hearing went great! Tell me all about it tonight.”

Barging into a boys' dorm isn't a brilliant idea, but at least I'm mostly sure the Thatcher house counselor won't write me up for it. I pound on Declan's door and, when there's no answer, hurry back outside. I text him. No reply. Curfew is in thirty minutes.

Finally I get a text, but it's from Jess.

Oh no.

I sprint toward the quad. It's so cold that snow refuses to fall. Running in this temperature feels like I'm stabbing myself in the lungs with icicles.

The Saturday-night movie is just letting out of the gym. I stop amid the crowd and let people flow around me as I search for Declan. I check my phone again. No text. Opal and Remy are heading toward me. “Now have you seen him?” I ask.

“No, and I have to tell you, desperation is not a good look for you.” Remy laughs when I punch his arm. “Opal said you went off with Diaz?”

“Yes, and Declan saw us! I'll fill you in later.” Remy looks concerned, but I wave them off so I can focus on trying to find Declan.

“Calm down,” Opal says. “Are you walking back now?”

“Not yet.”

“Don't miss curfew. Declan will still be here tomorrow,” she says.

“I think I can make it back in ten.”

“You can't,” she says.

“Just don't wait for me. Save yourselves.” I'm still hoping that Declan will miraculously materialize. Remy and Opal can see there's no reasoning with me and disappear without saying goodbye.

And then I finally see him. He's one of the last few headed down the path from the Canteen, and he's alone. People whose dorms are close by loiter in front of the gym, so at first he doesn't notice me. I run toward him at a full sprint, almost knocking him down as I collide into him. “Hey,” he says, looking down at me with a furrowed brow.

“I have been looking for you all over campus,” I say while doubled over and wheezing.

“Yeah?” he asks. His face is void of expression.

“Yeah. Where'd you take off to so fast after Yasmin's concert?”

“I just…wanted to get out of there.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “What did you need?”

I reach up, place my hands on his shoulders, and stand on my toes. His expression turns to shock, but I block it out and forge ahead. I close my eyes and kiss him, letting my lips linger on his for a few long seconds. His lips are warm, which feels nice, but they don't move at all in response to my kiss. I'm beginning to fear the worst—that he's changed his mind, that I made a terrible, mortifying mistake. But when I pull away, I see that he looks confused rather than angry.

“I saw you go into Albright with Leo,” he says. “Why would you bring him to my show when I asked you to go with me? Didn't you think that something might be up?”

“I know, but I wasn't thinking about it.” I scramble to explain. “I wanted to make sure I saw it before break, and he wanted to talk. The two things were not related, it was just horrible timing. You know I feel terrible that I didn't get there sooner.”

He gives me a long look. “Okay. And this?” He gestures between us.

“We don't have time to totally go into it, but Leo and I are completely done.”

A smile creeps onto Declan's face, and he wraps his arms around my waist. “In that case I'm sorry I didn't kiss you back,” he murmurs. “Promise I'll be ready next time.”

I collapse against him, thankful that I didn't just humiliate myself in public. “How about now?”

People are staring, but Declan doesn't care. He grins and ducks his head to kiss me again. He buries his hands in my hair, tilting my head back, his lips brushing against mine briefly, tenderly, before kissing me like he means it.

It's like slipping underwater. I can't breathe, and I don't want to. My hands slide under his jacket, feeling the fabric of his shirt drag under my fingertips as I move them down his back. His hands fall to my hips and pull me closer.

When we finally break apart, campus is deserted. Declan laughs. “I'd walk you home—” he begins.

I kiss him one last time. “Make sure your phone stays on.” And with that I race toward Abbot, faster than I've ever moved in my life.

I'm only a few minutes late for check-in, but Dr. Murdoch's sitting in a chair in the common room. I'm praying she doesn't know what time it is. No such luck. “Hello, Skylar.”

Panting and sweating from my run, I croak out, “Sorry, Dr. Murdoch, I lost track of time.”

“Yes, well, I better take a look at you.” She walks over to me. I try to stop gulping air and stand up straight so she can inspect me. “Your eyes are very bright, and you look a little manic, to be honest, dear.”

But who needs drugs when making out with an amazing boy is more intoxicating than any drug could possibly be? “Must be adrenaline. I think I'm just not used to running that fast. I swear, I have not broken any rules tonight.” Except for going into Thatcher without signing in and, oh god, why did I say “tonight”?

Thankfully, Dr. Murdoch gives me a vaguely warning look but doesn't press me. “Congratulations on a successful hearing. I'm rooting for you.”

I stop, touched. “Thank you, Dr. Murdoch.”

When I'm finally under the covers with my phone silenced, there's already a message from Declan.

I smile.