Page 121 of Wherever You Are

Connor Cobalt is a genius. He’s never feltthisbefore.

“What about your friends?” Connor asks, ignoring my question. “They have houses, I presume.”

“You mean all my friends that broke into your house to scare you? Those ones?” My stomach twists even thinking about them. How the judge sentenced them to a year each.That could have been me.Some days, I wish it were.

“No,” Connor replies. “Your other friends.”

“I don’t have other friends. No one wants to be associated with the bad guy, not at Dalton and definitely not at Faust.” I shrug. “I had nowhere to go, okay? I had Superheroes & Scones and Willow, that’s it.”

I. Am. A. Loser.

It might as well be tattooed on my fucking forehead.

But Willow is hands-down the most amazing person I’ve ever met—compassionate, brave, unique, shy—and she doesn’t mind spending time with a loser like me, so that’s something, I guess.

There’s more to tell. More to get off my chest.

“I burned the letter that Faust sent my parents before they got it—the one that said I flunked. And you know…” My voice cracks, choked. “I’ve never been a good person. I don’t even know what some of you see in me…because I’m shit.”

“You’renotshit,” Lo tells me, forceful like that’s already written in stone. Carved into marble. I don’t know how he sees it so clearly. He adds, “You want this glass out of your foot?”

Lo is looking at me like I’m already a good guy. I don’t get it. But I want to believe it. Someday. Somehow.

“Yeah,” I release a deeper breath. “Yeah, I want it out.”

29PRESENT DAY – March

London, England

WILLOW HALE

Age 23

“Am I underdressed?” I ask Garrison quietly, right after a suspender-clad hostess seats us at Lola Vine, a cool upscale pizza place in London that I’ve had my eye on for months. I was so excited about the atmosphere that I forgot to investigate people’s clothes off Yelp photos.

I glance down at my thin blue sweater and the unbuttoned plaid flannel I wear on top. And I’m injeans.I could’ve selected nicer pants.

“Not to me.” Garrison scoots closer to the candlelit table. “But if anyone thinks you are, then I am too. We can be underdressed together.” He splays a moto jacket on the back of the velvet chair. A black tee molds his toned biceps, but I’m selfishly glad that he’s wearing jeans like me.

I smile more, not feeling as out of place.

Garrison adjusts his jacket for another second or two. Giddy energy flutters inside my stomach. I have a lot to be giddy about today.

The biggest one, Garrison is in London. Just seeing my boyfriend makes the weeks of dreaming about him feel real.

And we’re on a date. I still can’t believe he reserved a tablehere.Every time I wanted to go when he was in town, they’d been booked up for the whole week.

“What do you think so far?” Garrison asks, handing me a leather-bound menu. “As cool as you imagined?”

I realize that I’ve been staring at him more than the restaurant. Looking around, I soak up my surroundings: orange and purple velvet chairs and booths, swanky curved bar with fancy liquors, a mirrored ceiling, deep red carpet, and rouged drapes.

“Better.” I can’t stop smiling. “It feels like the Hellfire Club could exist in here.” A popular comic book site named ten restaurants that reminded them of theX-Menfilms, and Lola Vine was listed underX-Men: First Class.I was shocked a restaurant within distance of my college made the cut.

I wait for Garrison to make a joke likewhat’s the Hellfire Club?with mock confusion. After all his time working at Superheroes & Scones, I’m pretty sure he’d remember the clandestine society with Emma Frost as a member.

Garrison nods. “That’s good….really good.” His aquamarine eyes flit around the packed restaurant. I doubt anyone will recognize us with the lights dimmed to a dark, warm glow.

A waitress brings iced waters, tells us the specials, and leaves to give us time to order.