Page 29

WAVERLY

K eene Dugger was sitting on my checkout counter.

Oh my God, he was right there.

Panic seized control of my limbs, took over my breathing, and made my vision momentarily darken at the corners.

My chest heaved as I tried to calm myself, and I blinked my view back into focus to find him with his back slumped in gloom, hands restlessly tapping in his lap and his attention nowhere near me.

He was gazing out into the rest of the library, shaking his head, and not even looking in my direction.

Realizing he had no clue about last night, I was finally able to exhale and relax enough to see he was genuinely upset. Probably about the fight he’d had with Parker.

Sympathy flooded my veins, and I just wanted to help him through this. I cleared my throat discreetly. “You know, there’s a perfectly good stool you could sit on right there, right?”

He glanced toward the stool and grimaced. “Looks uncomfortable.”

I smiled, glad I’d been able to distract him from his doldrums.

Falling into my role as nitpicker with ease, I sniffed. “And the counter’s what ? Nice and cushiony.”

He laughed. “Yes! Thank you. That’s exactly what I needed you to—holy fuck !

” Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at me, like really looked at me for probably the first time since he’d plopped down on the counter.

Eyes wide with shock, he blinked one time before swinging a knee onto the counter with him and twisting his torso to face me completely. “What the hell?” he demanded.

Oh shit, he knew.

My hand instinctively went to my wrist, hoping to cover my tattoo, only for me to realize I’d followed Xander’s advice—thank goodness—and worn long sleeves. My tat was still concealed.

Then how did he know? What had tipped him off? A look in my eyes? The flush in my cheeks? The way I turned in towards him like a flower soaking up sunlight?

“What did you do to your hair?” he uttered, shaking his head as if traumatized by the sight.

“What?” I started to lift my hand to my hair, only to remember I had bangs now. And then belatedly, I recalled that lifting my hand might cause my long sleeves to slide down and reveal things it shouldn’t.

I jerked up my second hand to hide the first hand’s wrist, only to realize how extremely odd that must appear. So I used the second hand to draw the first down away from my new bangs as if that had been my plan all along.

God, why did I have to be so strange and awkward?

Keene was still gaping at me as if I’d grown horns, and not pretty ones.

So I scowled back, irritated at him for not liking my new hair. I thought it looked amazing, thank you very much.

Then again, could we really trust my opinion?

“I got bangs,” I muttered petulantly and bowed my face in the hopes of hiding my hurt feelings, only for said bangs to sweep across my vision and annoy me enough to look up again and narrow my eyes at the aggravating boy who never thought anything about me was nice.

He was still just staring at me with frozen horror.

Seriously, it was as if someone had put him on pause.

Growing defensive, I added, “Oaklynn cut them.”

“Oaklynn?” he echoed, finally rebooting enough to furrow his brow. “ My Oaklynn?”

I sent him a get-real frown. “Pretty sure she’s Damien’s Oaklynn.”

He snorted out his annoyance and narrowed his eyes. “You know what I meant.” Shaking his head, he demanded, “When the hell did she do that? I just saw you yesterday .”

For a brief moment, I thought he was referring to last night, outside on the gazebo, and I panicked, afraid he knew . Because paranoia was real and alive inside me.

But then I realized he meant yesterday afternoon in this very spot when he, Xander, and Alec had gathered around the checkout counter.

Wow, had that only been yesterday?

To me, a whole other lifetime had passed, as if my deception had caused a split in time, and now there was only the before and the after.

“Well, she did it yesterday,” I spat, hoping he didn’t press this issue because?—

“Yesterday when ?” he pressed.

Grr. The turd.

No way could I tell him when. Then he’d know I’d been at his house, and he might be able to piece together enough clues to figure out the truth.

So I scowled at him and demanded, “Does it matter?”

Scowling back, he muttered, “No. It’s just—It’s so—” He motioned toward my bangs as if that would help him convey his meaning, but I had no clue what he was trying to say, and when he saw my expression, he dropped his hands uselessly into his lap, seemingly defeated and unable to complete his sentence.

It stung.

A small part of me had hoped he’d like the new look and—I don’t know—finally notice me.

But that was stupid, and I kind of hated that stupid, hopefully immature part of myself.

Later, I knew I’d let it weigh me down. It was currently being tossed in the pit, and from here on out, it was going to be a regular monster that came slithering free, infesting my dark thoughts whenever I felt low.

He hates your hair.

Just as much as he hates you.

You’re nothing.

Worthless.

But at that moment, my anger was keeping a firm seal on the lid of the pit, and it was in control of my emotions. I snarled at Keene for not adoring my new look, and I hissed, “Look. I’m sorry if you don’t like my hair, but?—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he cut in, clearly offended that I would dare guess how he felt about anything.

When I blinked at him in disbelief because his reaction sure wasn’t screaming affection, he rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath before saying to me, “It’s just…different.”

I tipped my head, letting him know that didn’t explain shit.

He exhaled with another frustrated sound and motioned to me. “You’re just—you’re not supposed to change anything.” Glancing away as if loath to admit the next part, he mumbled, “You’re one of my anchors.”

My mouth opened, but it took a moment for the words to come. “I’m one of your…what?”

He heaved out an impatient sigh, then began to roll his hand as if encouraging me to catch on faster as he explained, “Okay, maybe you’ve never noticed this, but I tend to be a little…frenetic.”

I scoffed. “You don’t say.”

When he cast me a dry glance, I cleared my throat and more calmly answered, “Yeah. I’ve noticed a certain restless…energy about you.”

Some people might call him hyper or excitable. He could never seem to sit still. He always had to move, always had to talk, always had to do something . He was the very antithesis of calm.

Pointing at me, his eyes lit with excitement.

“Exactly. Restless energy. That’s the perfect description.

Except that energy gets so wound up sometimes it turns into this big, burning ball in my chest that starts to feel as if it’s going to explode if I don’t—well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.

” His hand went to his heart. “But it’s always demanding more and growing bigger and needing attention.

And sometimes it gets a little out of control until everything starts to feel dizzy and disorienting, so I have to go to one of my anchors to ground me back down again.

Just something or someone who’s steady and constant.

And unchanging.” His gaze flittered to my hair as if it had betrayed him.

“And I can always rely on you to be here, in those clothes, scowling and bitching about something I’ve done to annoy you.

” Shoulders slouching, he glanced out into the rest of the quiet lobby where absolutely no one had moved or changed. “I kind of count on it.”

Heart thudding by the end of his explanation, I swallowed thickly and tried to mentally stuff the organ back into my chest because I could feel my emotions spilling out everywhere.

But dammit. This open, honest, beautiful soul in front of me was the very boy I’d fallen in love with. I could wade past everything else about him just to get a peek of this guy right here.

And he’d made me one of his anchors.

The honor honestly overwhelmed me.

Blinking repeatedly so I didn’t start sobbing all over him, I cleared my throat discreetly, but my voice still sounded too hoarse for my own liking when I rasped, “It’ll grow back out again.”

When I self-consciously lifted my fingers to my bangs, Keene glanced over, looking at me. My chest ached as his solemn attention settled. I felt full of all these feelings. And he made them explode inside me when he shook his head briefly and murmured, “Don’t let it. It looks good like that.”

And yep, I was done.

My life ended at that moment because there was no way anything could ever get better than this. I’d peaked at twenty, reaching the pinnacle of my existence. It was all going to be downhill from here.

Because, oh my goodness, for that brief moment when Keene called me pretty—or at least something adjacent to that—my life was complete. And suddenly, I could see why people liked living so much.

I honestly have no idea how long we stayed there, looking at each other—him peering around my face as if he’d never seen it before, as if he liked what he saw, and me just riding the high—but it was cut abruptly short when I saw movement from the corner of my eye as a patron approached.

Tearing my lovestruck gaze from Keene, I focused on the newcomer, only to scowl when I realized it wasn’t a patron at all.

Keene twisted to see what had captured my attention just as a bored-looking Gates reached my station and flopped his hands petulantly onto the counter.

“Can I have some money for the vending machine?” he asked, looking at me as if I were some kind of ATM.

“No,” I told him. “I don’t have any cash and the card reader on that machine is broken.”

Gates groaned out his dejection and plopped his face onto the counter. “But I’m starving . Waverly…”

“Eww.” I shoved at his shoulder. “Get your grease-stained face off my counter.” When he stood up and straightened his face to scowl at me, I grabbed a container of disinfectant wipes from the shelves underneath and pulled a sheet free so I could make a big production of wiping off the wet ring he’d left on the Formica.

All the while, I groused, “Now who’s being dramatic?

Didn’t I tell you to pack a bag with some snacks before we left the house? ”

“Oh yeah.” Gates lifted a lazy shoulder. “I forgot.”

“Of course, you did.” I rolled my eyes. “Well, you’re just going to have to wait until my shift is over and we get home, then.”

“Ugh!” He started to slump forward again, only to pause when he saw the warning in my eyes and the disinfectant wipe still in my hand. “When is that?”

With a prolonged sigh, I tossed the used wipe and put the container back away under the counter. “Three.”

“ Three ?”

“Trust me.” I turned my gaze back to him with the stern, librarian stare. “You won’t starve to death in the next half an hour.”

“But—”

“It’s way more likely I’ll strangle you by then.”

“I’ve got cash,” a voice spoke up from my right, making both my brother and me jump in surprise.

Together, we whirled to find Keene still sitting on the counter witnessing our sibling spat.

Gates lurched a surprised step back, clearly not even realizing someone had been sitting there the entire time he’d trudged to my desk and flopped down his gross face.

“Who’re you?” he demanded.

Keene lifted his eyebrows right back and countered, “Who’re you ?”

Gates spun to me. “Who’s he? Do you have a boyfriend ?”

“A boyfriend?” Keene grimaced and slapped a hand to his chest as if the question literally pained him.

“Gah, that is such a typical, little brother kind of question.” But as soon as he spoke, he straightened as if surprised.

“Hey.” Pointing at Gates, he sent me a betrayed glance. “You have a little brother?”

I sent him a dry stare. “Unfortunately.”

“Wow. Just when you think you know a person.” He shook his head as if trying to clear the surprise from it.

“My parents are out of town today,” I explained. “So I was forced to watch him. And when a coworker called, needing me to fill in for a two-hour shift, I had to bring Gates with me.”

“Gates, huh?” Shifting his gaze to my brother, he tipped his chin up in a head bob of greeting and said, “Hey, man. I’m Keene. But you can call me Your Supreme Greatness.”

Gates snorted, letting Keene know that was never going to happen.

“So how many siblings do y’all have?” he asked, motioning between the two of us.

“We’re it,” I answered, letting my gaze skim over Gates as I wondered what Keene must think when he looked at him.

“Hmm.” Keene nodded before giving a little shrug. “Still more siblings than I have.” Returning his attention to Gates, he jerked up his head one more time in recognition. “So you’re hungry, huh?”

“Yeah…” Gates crept closer to him, his eyes gleaming eagerly. “I’m starving.” Pressing a hand to his stomach, he laid it on thick, adding, “I don’t think I can make it until three.”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I’m starving too.” Nodding along with my brother as if he completely understood his misery, Keene added, “In fact…”

He paused to lift up one hip and dig into his back pocket to pull up a carbon fiber wallet.

Tugging his cash free from the money clip, he flipped up two, one-dollar bills.

“Why don’t you run to the vending machine for me and get me a candy bar, huh?

Something with nuts, caramel, and chocolate in it.

Oh! Plus a bag of chips while you’re there.

” He produced another dollar before nodding and coming up with two more.

“And a cola. All that food’s going to make me thirsty. ”

Extending the cash toward my brother, he bounced his brows once. “Don’t forget to bring back the change.”

Gates shot him a dry, unimpressed stare and refused to take the money. “That’s it? You just want me to fetch stuff for you? And you’re not going to give me anything for it?”

“Oh, did you want me to buy you something too?” Keene lifted his brows as if surprised before he made a slow, taunting production of holding his tongue between his teeth and peeling two more dollars from the pile.

He waved the cash at my brother, clearly heckling him, only to pull it back when Gates reached out greedily.

“Well, this could be all yours, my friend,” he encouraged softly. “All you gotta do is tell me one little embarrassing fact about your sister.”