Page 64 of Wherever You Are

I pinch a cigarette and blow smoke up in the air, my skin freezing from fingerless gloves.

It’s fucking cold as hell, and I’m still reeling from my invite here. Without even knowing if Willow could fly down for the holidays, Lo asked if I wanted to join them at the lake.

Sure, I’ve been living with him for almost a year now, but he could have easily left me in Philly.

Willow is bundled in a pale blue ski jacket and sits on the wooden table. She pushes up her glasses with a gloved finger. “They’ve known that we’ve been sleeping together for a while.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been separated the majority of that time. It hasn’t been in their face. Now that we’re with them and also together, it’sright there.” I raise a hand to her beautiful, rosy-cheeked face.

She smiles, a giddy nervous one that lifts her carriage, like this is the first interaction we’ve ever had and she’s bracing herself. It’s magical.

It makes me smile back, and after a quiet moment that I hang onto, I say, “Honestly, I think Ryke was glaring at me this morning.”

She leans closer, hands on her thighs. “He glares at everyone.”

I bounce on my toes, trying to circulate blood in the cold. “This was different. His eyes saidyou’re sleeping with my sister. Fuck you.”

Willow laughs. “There was no fuck you in his eyes.” Her lips start to fall. “Well, if there was itwasn’tdirected at you.”

She touches my shoulders, and I stop bouncing. My cigarette burns between my fingers. Even though she doesn’t smoke, she joins me on most of my smoke breaks. I’m going to try and quit again—I’m going to.

Just not right now.

I think she might say something super positive, but instead her brows furrow. “I’m usually the one overthinking everything,” she murmurs. “This is…different.”

I nod. “I’m getting a taste of inside your head, Willow, and honestly, gotta say, I don’t like it.”

Her lips quirk. “They’re probably not thinking about us having sex. One, that’d be weird if they zeroed in on that. Two, I’m sure they’re more likely questioning whether we’re going to stay together.” Her eyes don’t have those questions. They hold this powerful confidence.

“You don’t believe we’ll break up,” I say, putting the cigarette back between my lips.

She shakes her head. “We’ve rode out the bumpy parts.”

“Are the bumpy parts named Salvatore Amadio?” I wonder.

Since August, I haven’t been back to London. My one weekend at their flat was enough of a hurricane between me and Mr. Dickbag. AKA vampire-knockoff. AKA Salvatore.

Willow has had a pretty rough time living at the flat. I always thought she had this perfect thing going on in London, and it doesn’t make me feel better knowing it’s been shitty recently.

The apartment parties are sometimes as bad as three times a week, even after she politely had a “roommate meeting” and told them house parties aren’t her thing.

She was probably too polite. I wasn’t there, but she rehashed the conversation. She said they sometimes remember to lower the volume of the music. But that’s about it.

She still loves Tess and Sheetal, just not as roommates, and I know she’d GTFO like yesterday. But she signed a lease, and she’s stuck there till May.

I don’t have to love Salvatore, but I have to find a way to tolerate him while he’s still her roommate. I’m trying to get there.

“Maybe one Salvatore bump,” Willow says softly.

After I blow smoke up in the air, I step closer and her gloved hands wrap around me. The backdoor slides open, and Daisy’s white husky bounds out, sprinting down the stairs and descending the snowy hill towards the dock.

Coconut’s fur matches the white landscape, blending in with the scenery.

“Nutty!” Ryke yells and follows the husky. Heading down the deck stairs, he nods to Willow and me, and I swear there’s another stern glare.

I whisper to Willow, “I’m not imagining it.”

“That’s hisnormalface,” Willow says.