I tuck the suspicion away for the moment and smile up at her. “We can’t all be as strong as you, Mimi.”
“You see what I want you to see.”
Her eyes fall away from me, something else playing behind them.
“Every woman has her secrets, Clay,” she tells me. “We all have our sins, and I’m not special. You can have whatever you want, as many times as you want, for however long you want.” She nudges my chin again. “As long as it stays a secret.”
I can’t hold back my smile. “I can’t believe you’re telling me that.”
“Refusing yourself the things you need to feel alive only brings two consequences: detriment or death. We would break.”
I stare at her.
“We can have what we want,” she tells me again. “Quietly.”
“What if it hurts to hide?”
“Oh, Clay.” She shakes her head like I’m so naïve, but it’s not in a way that offends me. “Everyone hides. The generations before you devoted their lives to building something that lasted. Working for the duty and legacy they inherited. It was important.” She pauses before she continues. “But that inch—those quick minutes they carved out in the shadows—that’s what they lived for.”
My blood warms under my skin, the hair on my arms rising, and all of a sudden, the possibilities seem endless tonight. An inch… I rub the inside of my finger, brushing my tattoo. I got it on my birthday in December to remind me that there’s a piece of myself I hate and love and it drives me nuts, but I need it, because it’s the only thing I look forward to. That place I can escape to in my head where I can have the only thing I want anymore.
“As long as it stays secret,” she points out again.
Yes.
“That is the price, I’m afraid.”
I nod once. I can live with that. As long as I can have her. Thank you, Mimi.
She gives me her cheek, and I leave a quick peck before climbing to my feet and hurry out of the hall before my mother sees. Once outside, I send her a quick text, letting her know I’ll be home late and to grab my stuff from the dressing room.
I’m about to text Callum that I’m ready and waiting, but I see a tattooed neck in a dark gray T-shirt straddling an old Triumph. I forget my phone and stare at the middle son of Tryst Six, cigarette smoke drifting into the air above his head.
He was the one checking me out last week when he dropped Liv off at school. I smile, tucking my phone back into my bag.
Oh, she’ll hate this. I walk up to him. “Hi.”
Turning his head, Iron sucks on the cigarette, the end burning orange before he takes it out of his mouth.
He doesn’t say hi back. He knows who I am.
“I’m Clay,” I tell him anyway.
He faces forward, blowing out the smoke. “Yeah, I know.”
Well, what a peach. Maybe he knows about the video. How could he not, I guess?
I take my chances anyway. “I’m doing a senior scavenger hunt. I need to take a selfie with a stranger.”
He shoots me a look, taking another drag. “Is that school-sanctioned? Sounds unsafe.”
I pull out my phone again. “Can I take a selfie with you?”
“No.” He shakes his head, turning away again. “Like I said, I know who you are.”
He doesn’t really seem angry, though. Maybe she didn’t tell her family about the video. Maybe he’s just prejudiced, because I’m a Collins.
I pass him and his bike, step into the street, and stick my thumb out, feeling my loose denim shorts slide down my hips as I move.
“What are you doing?” I hear him ask, a sudden edge to his voice.
“I need a ride across the tracks.” A car passes, honking its horn, and I see it’s some rusty old Honda filled with young guys. “I’m meeting Liv.”
“Pretty sure Liv is the last person meeting you.”
“Hey!” someone calls.
I look behind me to see the Honda has stopped, one of the dudes poking his head out of the window.
I look back to Iron.
“Don’t you have a driver or something?” he spits out. “Hitching is dangerous.”
I back up toward the Honda, giving him a wicked smile.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, stop,” he barks, rolling his eyes and taking up his bike. “I’ll take you.”
I grin wider and leap into a run, climbing on the bike behind him and taking the helmet he offers.
He starts the engine, the bike vibrating under me, and I watch the Honda pull off when I don’t take their ride.
“You’re good, kid.” He looks over his shoulder, his sarcasm pretty thick. “I wish you’d use that brain for better rather than worse.”
A car pulls up, and I see Krisjen peek her head out the back window. Milo sits next to her.