“So is attempted murder and locking an innocent girl away in a fucking psych ward.”
Her mouth shut in response, and we stared at each other with the smell of alcohol between us. Another slight nod and a soul-snatching smile, and I was pushing her up against the door so we could make a fast getaway.
A warm surge of heat coated me from the head down when I felt her hand brush mine. The warmth only intensified when I glanced at her, seeing her perfect profile from beside me with the tiniest grin covering her lips.
“Want to do the honors, baby?”
Those gray eyes hit me, and I swore my heart did a double-take. Her fingers swiped over mine, and she took the bottle from me. I pulled out the matches from my pocket, and the flame came to life a second later. We were facing each other now, and neither of us looked away. “On the count of three, throw it.”
She nodded, and I began the countdown.
“One.” I inched the flame closer to the rag.
“Two.” She raised the bottle.
“Three,” we said at the exact same time, throwing the burning bottle toward the files along Doctor Melrose’s wall and watching it erupt.
The sound of glass shattering caused Journey to dive into my side. It took a few seconds for the flames to climb, and when they did, I glanced down at her, and my knees shook. She was the prettiest thing I had ever laid my eyes on. Her face was cast in red and orange hues, flickering like she was in front of a fireworks show. The bow shape of her lips parted just slightly as she stood and watched with an overpowering fulfillment. “Pretty sight, yeah?” I asked, voice hoarse with something too heavy to name.
Her smile snagged my attention when she turned to me. “Should we make a run for it?”
Everything suddenly felt exciting, and I was back to feeling like I was me. Even with the nudge of pain and confusion over my mother leaving me high and dry without a simple, ‘Here’s where I’ll be if you need me,’ and the slight worry of my father planning my demise, I was the Cade Walker that Journey once knew. I was the guy that put the light in her eyes, and the guy who let a girl wrap herself around his finger.
“Hop on,” I said, feeling the warmth of the fire against my back. I bent down, and there was the faintest of giggles from her that had my dimples popping out. Journey’s legs wrapped around my waist, her hot little middle pushing up against me, and then I was running through the psych hospital with my girl on my back, laughing like we didn’t have a care in the world.
As soon aswe made it back to St. Mary’s, our footprints had been covered by a light layer of snow. Together, Journey and I pulled the tarps back over my father’s motorcycle, and we began walking back up to the school well after midnight.
“I feel like we should have worn white instead of black,” she said, gripping my hand hard as she almost slipped on the stone walkway. I purposefully had us walk around the other side of the school, avoiding the courtyard where I had spent most of my summer nights, just sitting there, wondering how I had let her slip through my fingers.
“Nah,” I said, opening the side door to St. Mary’s that was propped open with the small rock. Thank you, Shiner. “No one is out here looking for us. The real eyes of St. Mary’s are on the inside.”
Just as I said the words, a foreboding glimpse into the future slid in front of me. My hand gripped Journey’s a little tighter, and I glanced over our shoulder, scanning the area for anything. Like more footprints.
I was pulled back to reality when Journey’s whisper hit me. “Is someone out there?”
Now that we were back at St. Mary’s, with our needs in line and our checklist of breaking rules (also known as burning down buildings), reality had set back in. My pulse thrummed, and each beat of my heart thumped with suspicion.
“Cade?” Journey prodded, tugging on my hand a little tighter. I pushed her farther into the school, shutting out the gusting snow flurries.
“Shh,” I hushed, moving us through the quiet halls. Every time we’d pass by a nearby closet or empty classroom, I wanted to shove her inside to keep our night of placid fun going. I missed the quiet moments with her where she lay underneath me, touching and feeling and just being. I even missed the nights, before any of that happened, where she’d read her classic novels to me in the back of the library after lights out.
After rounding the girls’ hall and sliding past the locked dorm rooms, Journey and I ended up right in front of hers with my anxiety still residing nice and heavy on top of my shoulders. She stared up at me, and every so often, the flickering of the candle would cascade over her soft face, and I’d force my hand to stay by my side so I didn’t grab her cheek and kiss her. Where does this leave us?
There was a sudden noise at the end of the hall when I opened my mouth to say…anything. Journey’s face was conquered with sudden fear, and I hated to see it, so I quickly undid the lock of her door, turned the knob, and shoved her inside. “You’re safe.”
I promise.
A stern nod stood between me and her, and then I shut the door and stealthily took three steps back and slid into my favorite little nook of this school. With my shoulders as wide as they were, I still managed to crouch down, feeling for my worn paperback in the corner. I placed my closed fist to my mouth so I didn’t breathe too loudly and waited.
Is it the duty teacher? This was a gamble, if there ever was one. I kept myself steady, not even wanting to pull my phone out to ask the other Rebels if they were up and moving about. Particularly Isaiah. I was positive most of the faculty knew that he and Gemma slid into each other's rooms on a daily basis, and truthfully, with everything that had been going on lately, I was surprised they didn’t start bed checks. But knowing Tate, I bet he would argue that it was unethical or something if the SMC—St. Mary’s Committee—even suggested it.
After a few long, painful minutes with nothing but my faint breathing filling the small space, I stood back up, tucked my worn paperback in my hand, silently slid forward, and peered down the long, grim hallway.
Protection pounded through my veins when I saw a dark figure standing outside of Gemma’s door. I reached for my knife but paused when I heard Isaiah’s voice.
“Did you hear that, too?”
I gripped the handle hard, half-whispering down the hall. “I just about gutted you.” For fuck’s sake.