“But I would have sat next to you,” Landon whispered into my ear. “I would have fought off any man who thought he was a better fit and paid whatever price your father demanded, and then some.”
Chills raced over my skin, prickling and warming me all in the same breath.
“No price would have been high enough, no challenge big enough. But I would have won.”
“So sure of yourself?” I asked, just loud enough for him to hear me over the singing.
“Yeah. I am. Because I know you would have fought for me, too.”
My chest filled with the sweetest pressure, and I pushed it down, knowing exactly where it led—knowing that I wasn’t ready. “In an alternate timeline,” I said, remembering our earlier conversation.
He tipped my chin up but didn’t kiss me, simply looked deeply into my eyes until I was sure that I would melt into his. “In every timeline.”
I looked away when I couldn’t take it anymore, when the force of our connection threatened to override my common sense.
His words stayed with me long after the ceremony, and I couldn’t help but realize that we’d sat there in the same position as the newly intendeds—arms intertwined, ankles crossed.
In every timeline, indeed.
“It’s like you’re twelve and back at Camp Sunnyville,” I muttered to myself as I walked down the path of bungalows our class had taken over for the night. Of course Camp Sunnyville hadn’t been in the middle of a rain forest or had its accompanying humidity.
Between the ceremony and the hike back to our residence, it had to be at least midnight. If we were in the States, I would have texted Landon. Or Facebooked him. Hell, Twitter might have been an option.
The minute my temporary roommate’s boyfriend showed up in our little thatched cabin, I got the hell out of there. No chance I wanted to hear whatever was going to happen on the other side of our room.
I wasn’t even that close with Leah, nor did I ever want to be.
With the full moon above me, all the bungalows looked the same. Crap. Which one was he in?
“Rachel?”
I spun in the darkness toward Hugo’s figure. “Hey. What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same.” He laughed.
“I’m looking for Landon’s room. My roommate needed to put a sock on the door handle.”
“Ah,” he said with a deep head nod. “I understand. I’d say that you’re welcome to come back to my room, but I have a feeling you’re not just looking for an escape.”
“Yeah…” I sighed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You two have some weird magnetic pull that I’m not stupid enough to get between. I have a feeling whoever does gets crushed.”
Like Wilder.
“Yeah, we’re…us,” I said, failing to find a better word.
He laughed. “You and Leah and those Renegades. I think he’s in the last one on the right. I remember him being alone, too.”
“Thank you!”
“Want me to walk you down?”
“No worries, but thank you for offering.”
“Okay, but I’ll wait here until you get inside.”
With a wave, I was off. I tightened my hands on the straps of my day pack and walked the distance to Landon’s bungalow.
As I walked up the steps, I turned to see Hugo watching, and I waved in thanks.
A soft light shone from under the door, and I paused, my hand raised to knock. What was I doing here? Other than avoiding the sexcapade in my own room? Maybe I was looking for the same thing. I rested my forehead against the smooth wood of the doorframe and took a deep breath.
I’d already let him get so close. Despite my best intentions, he was right there, close enough to my heart to break it again, and I was a breath away from surrendering everything to him. But Landon had always been about the chase, and that’s still where we were—he was still chasing me. What happened if he caught me?
You won’t be so bright and shiny, and he’ll move on.
The thought rocked me, because the more time I spent with him, the more I knew I didn’t want him to move on.
But how much worse would it be in a few weeks? Months? Wasn’t it better to get the breaking done now, when I was only losing the possibility of Landon?
Oh my God, how long was I going to stand out here debating?
Don’t be a chicken.
I knocked.
“Come in,” Landon called out, and I sighed in relief. At least I wasn’t knocking on some stranger’s door in the middle of the night. Even worse, it could have been Dr. Messina.
I opened the door and found him lounged on his double bed, mouthwateringly shirtless with a book perched in his hands.
“Rachel?” He sat up fully, putting the book down next to him.
“What are you reading?” I asked.
“A Moveable Feast,” he answered. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My roommate is currently getting some, which isn’t anything I wanted to be around for, and it was either Hugo’s room or yours. I chose yours.”
“Good choice,” he said.
“So, Hemingway? Is that on your reading list for Lit?” I dropped my bag and sat on the corner of the bed, since there was nowhere else to sit.
“No,” he answered.
That simple word told me that part of him—the book lover—hadn’t faded in time. “How is it?”