What Happens After Midnight, page 21
“I see,” I commented as a cat leapt onto the windowsill. Black with white paws, she could only be the beloved but prohibited Stevie. Tag swept her into his arms to protect her from the outside world. “What do you guys do during room inspections?” I asked.
“We have a system,” he said and proceeded to explain. I smiled at the part where Stevie was temporarily smuggled out of the room in a laundry bag. “Anyway…” Tag kissed Stevie’s head before depositing her back on the floor, “What’s up? Has Daniel detonated yet?”
“Not quite,” I said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” My stomach stirred. “And, um, you know, maybe talk?” I pointed to the wide windowsill. “May I sit?”
Tag nodded and backed up a few steps so I had room to arrange myself on the ledge. My flip-flops fell to the ground, and by the time I’d found a comfortable position, he’d perched on the corner of his and Alex’s pool table. He took a deep breath. “Where should we start?”
Cheeks still warm, I helplessly shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s so much.”
“Yeah,” Tag agreed, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, there is.”
Both of us were quiet for a moment before something struck me. “Alex mentioned you had a hypoglycemic attack last year,” I said. “What happened? Where was it? Here?”
“No,” he told me. “It wasn’t here; it was during spring break.”
My pulse pitched. Spring break.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, because spring break had been in March, and I hadn’t broken up with Tag until April. We were still together. Falling apart, definitely, but the thread hadn’t snapped. It had never truly snapped.
Tag shook his head. “It wasn’t a big deal. Alex was with me.”
“But he wasn’t the only one,” I said, a snakelike suspicion slithering up my spine. There had been a catch in his voice. “Blair was there, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” Tag admitted. “She heard I was with Alex in New York and begged us to take the train to Greenwich and come to this party she was throwing.” He gave me a look. “Lily, nothing happened.”
Blood thumped through my ears. Tag had told me he and Alex had gone out one night, but I never imagined it involving a train ride to Connecticut. I’d assumed it was with one of Alex’s many city friends. “If nothing happened,” I said slowly, “then why did you hide it from me?”
Tag sighed. “Because I didn’t want you to read anything into it. It was just some stupid party. It didn’t mean anything, and while I thought about texting you that Blair had invited us, I know she’s not your favorite person, so—”
“Blair is far from my favorite person,” I interrupted, stomach squirming. “Anyone who ‘inceptions’ people with insecurities and then ruins their relationships…” My eyes watered, thinking about how we might not have broken up if Blair hadn’t interfered. She’d successfully pulled Tag toward her while I unknowingly pushed him there myself. I blinked away tears. “I’m not talking about Blair, Tag,” I said. “I’m talking about your episode. If it wasn’t a big deal, why would telling me be a big deal?”
Tag took a breath. “Because it was more than a big deal,” he said softly. “It was full-on hypoglycemia, and I ended up in the ER.”
My heart lurched. “What?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Blair’s parents were gone, so she let everyone crash at her house—most of her friends were plastered. Alex and I shared the sectional in her basement, and I don’t remember it well, but he shook me awake at some point. Apparently I was shivering like I was standing naked in a snowstorm, and my pump was beeping. It turned out my blood glucose was at twenty.”
Twenty? I winced. Twenty was too low, dangerously low.
“I didn’t have my glucagon injection kit,” Tag said, talking about his emergency meds. “It was in my suitcase, but Alex and I were out when Blair texted us, and we didn’t swing back to his apartment before going to Penn Station.” He paused. “I’m such a moron.”
I kept quiet, sensing he wasn’t finished.
“Alex is so spur-of-the-moment,” he continued, “that it sometimes makes me want to be that spontaneous too.” He chewed on his lip. “It honestly sucks when I remember that I can’t always be like that. It did cross my mind to go back for the kit, but racing to catch a last-second train seemed much more thrilling.”
“It doesn’t sound like Alex to let that fly,” I said, hugging my knees to my chest. “He’s basically a helicopter parent. Didn’t he ask if you had it?”
Tag nodded once, his words unsaid: I lied.
“Christ, Tag,” I whispered.
“He took care of me the whole way to the hospital,” he said. “Blair drove while he sat in the back trying to pour orange juice down my throat. Luckily the ER admitted me right away and force-fed me this disgusting glucose toothpaste before hooking me up to an IV to stabilize my levels.” He sighed. “Then Alex went on the rampage. You should’ve heard him—his voice was shot by morning.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” I said awkwardly.
Tag slid off the pool table and came to the window. “Lily, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m sorry too,” I murmured. “I’m sorry I gave you the impression that all I would care about was Blair being there.” I took a breath. “It was really nice she drove you to the hospital.”
Tag didn’t respond; instead, he came closer, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in the crook of my neck. His skin was cool against mine, blazing from the sunshine. He smelled like his coconut shampoo with that ever-present hint of chlorine.
Smoosh, I thought as I reached to gently run my fingers through his hair before massaging the back of his neck. My body ached when I felt him press a light kiss to my collarbone. It was all still so easy, so natural, so intoxicating between us.
I hated it.
I loved it.
Only when the sun disappeared behind a cloud did I force myself to escape his embrace. “I have to go,” I whispered.
“Stay,” he whispered back. “Please stay.”
“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Mr. Harvey’s retirement party is tonight.”
Tag waited three seconds, then released me. “I have something for him,” he said and briefly disappeared into his room to grab something. He handed me an envelope. It was white instead of the Jester’s mysterious black, with ROGER written in Tag’s familiar block-shaped handwriting rather than magazine cutouts. My eyes prickled, knowing that once upon a time, he would’ve been invited to a party like this. Tag had been welcomed at every faculty neighborhood gathering. I almost opened my mouth to suggest he come before remembering that he couldn’t.
“I’ll come back,” I promised, even though I hadn’t moved yet. I felt frozen, still sitting on the windowsill. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll be here,” he said.
I whipped up my famous swirled-caramel sheet cake with chocolate fudge frosting. My mom watched me the entire time, but surprisingly it was Josh who’d swiped a spoonful of icing as I’d worked my magic. “It’s just that kind of day,” he’d said, shrugging when my mom and I had given him puzzled looks. Josh had taught me everything I knew about baking, even though he didn’t have a sweet tooth.
The Hoffmans had graciously offered to host Mr. Harvey’s party, which had spilled out on the back patio. My mom placed our gift with the others, and before following her outside, I slid Tag’s card in between two ribbon-adorned bottles of wine. “You did not,” Mr. Harvey was saying when I found him. He, Dean DeLuca, Mr. Hoffman, and Josh stood near the firepit. Campo protégé Gabe was also there. They all held Bud Lights.
Meanwhile, Anthony was stuck sipping a Sprite.
“Yes, I swear,” Mr. Hoffman said, chuckling. “I spent the night in the atrium.”
My ears immediately pricked up. Finally, the reason Mr. Hoffman had been sleeping in Admissions the night of the prank.
But then someone’s ringtone went off, a familiar ringtone. “For god’s sake,” Josh said with a sigh. “Not again.”
“What’s up?” Dean DeLuca asked.
Josh dug his phone out of his back pocket, and after taking a moment to collect himself, he accepted the call. “Hey, Manik,” he said. “The house isn’t on fire, is it?”
Everyone nearby kept quiet; I suspected they wanted to overhear as much of this conversation as I did. Why was Manik calling Josh?
“Well, you go ahead and tell Daniel that I haven’t changed my mind,” Josh said. “When he and I texted this afternoon, I told him they weren’t necessary. We conducted them two weeks ago, right on schedule.” He paused to listen to whatever Manik was saying. “I understand their rooms are probably certified disaster zones,” Josh patiently continued as my pulse quickened. “But, Manik, I always cut the boys a break this time of year. They’re busy studying for exams and packing to go home. It’s fine if loose-leaf paper and laundry litter their floors. It’ll all get cleaned up eventually. We don’t need to sidetrack them with a round of room inspections…”
Room inspections. I not only balked but also wanted to laugh. Daniel was pushing for room inspections so he could tear them apart, hoping to find the yearbooks hidden in someone’s closet or stowed under their bed. He now suspected the freshmen boys.
I couldn’t stay at the party past dinnertime. “No special treatment,” my mom had said. “If Ames gave certain students special treatment, the schools would have no integrity.”
I understood. I truly understood.
Although, Madame Hoffman didn’t let me leave for detention without a paper plate weighed down by a large selection of desserts. “I’ve overseen detention before, ma chérie,” she said. “Your stomach will start rumbling.”
Ironically, Bunker was supervising this evening of ennui, checking names off a list and confiscating phones at the science lecture hall’s entrance. “Lily.” He nodded at me when I placed mine in the cardboard box. “I expect your homework is finished, so I hope you brought something to entertain yourself…”
My fellow delinquents were mostly underclassmen; I watched them glumly unzip their backpacks and unload textbooks upon textbooks and binders upon binders. Their laptops too, even though I knew there was no Wi-Fi in detention. This might be in your best interest, the teacher’s pet in me wanted to say. You have no choice but to study for finals.
The large lecture hall was so quiet that I nearly jumped when someone took the seat next to me. “Hey, tiger,” a familiar voice said, and I turned to see Alex smirking at me as he got comfortable in his swivel chair. “How’re we feeling tonight?”
“Absolutely euphoric,” I deadpanned, then asked, “What are you doing here?”
Alex shrugged. He was now focused on pulling the plastic wrap off my plate of goodies. I glanced over at the hall’s doors to see that Bunker had shut them; we were now officially cut off from humanity.
“Do you even have detention?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he muffled through a mouthful of red velvet cupcake. “It’s not strictly in writing, but Bunker said it was possible his list was mistaken.”
I rolled my eyes. “Alex, get real.”
“Oh, this is my favorite.” He ignored me, breaking off a piece of swirled-caramel cake. “You made this for the holiday party sophomore year.”
“Shh!” a junior hissed before I could respond. He sat two rows ahead of us, Microsoft Word on his computer screen. “I’m trying to write a paper!”
“Then you’re sitting in the wrong sector.” Alex gestured across the room, where a cluster of students sat typing like they were being timed. “The laptop club is over there.”
“You’re a terrible person sometimes,” I told him after the underclassman relocated.
“So what?” Alex said. “It’s not like I need his vote or anything.”
I was quiet for a moment, then murmured, “Alex, the election was ages ago. I know how much you wanted to be king of the school, but—”
“I wanted to be the president, Lily,” he muttered. “I wanted to be the president so I could make Ames a better place. Rivera only wanted it for his precious résumé, so he could get into Harvard.” He snorted. “I won’t challenge you to name all the improvements he’s made, because we both know…”
The rest of what he said was gibberish, thanks to the lemon bar he’d shoved in his mouth. I assumed it had something to do with Daniel accomplishing virtually nothing as student council president. He had done his duty, but nothing more.
Little did he know that the “more” was upon him.
I said so to Alex, who smiled slyly.
“Yeah, Daniel. Look what you made me do.”
I booped him on the nose. “Karma.”
Alex chuckled and reached for my figure drawing sketchbook. “What’s new in here?”
“Meh, not a lot,” I answered as he started flipping through it. “You know I prefer landscapes.”
“Yeah, but you’re so good at people too…” He trailed off, landing on a certain page. My heart twisted while he stared at it, and I cringed when he glanced up at me. “You still have this?” he asked quietly.
“Obviously,” I tried to joke but instead heard myself whisper and waver.
Alex looked down at the sketch again. It was a drawing of Tag, a very old one from freshman year. We weren’t even friends when I’d done it. I remembered Pravika, Zoe, and I had been doing homework in the library, and we’d spotted Tag in one of the reading rooms. “Lily, look!” Both my friends had grinned. “Look who’s over there.”
With them, my secret crush had been anything but a secret.
“Fine,” Zoe had said after I refused to go talk to him. “Then I dare you to go draw him.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“You heard me.” Zoe nodded at the sketchbook tucked under my arm. “Draw him.”
Pravika gave me a little push, and for some reason, I let myself be pushed. I’d walked into the reading room, and before my legs melted like two candlesticks, I went straight up to Tag’s mahogany study table. “Hey, Tag,” I’d said, and when he looked up from his book, his face was bathed in the warm lamplight.
“Hey, Lily,” he said with a smile. “How are you?”
I’d ignored his question, immediately breaking into a ramble. “I have an assignment for art class,” I said. “We’re drawing people, so I need to draw someone, and I was wondering if I could draw you.”
“Draw me?” Tag comically quirked an eyebrow. “Like one of your Spanish girls?”
“Okay, it’s French girls,” I’d sighed, unaware at the time that he’d purposely misquoted Titanic so I’d relax. “The line is ‘draw me like one of your French girls.’”
“Do you want me to pose?” he asked once I was seated across from him, sketchbook open to a fresh page and charcoal pencil in hand. His evergreen eyes caught mine, and I blushed under their glimmer.
“No.” I shook my head. “Just be…” I searched for a better word than “normal.” I didn’t want him to be normal. “Just be at peace,” I said quietly. “Okay?”
Tag’s lips curved into a slow smile. “I can do that.”
When he went back to reading a worn copy of Dune, I began to draw. For the next couple of hours, there was complete silence between us—a silence that felt strangely comfortable and would eventually grow so lovingly familiar. “It’s almost scary,” Pravika once said. “How you guys can understand each other without saying a word.”
The sketch made me ache. The way Tag rested his head in one hand while he read, dark hair disheveled and his fifteen-year-old facial features gentle. While his eyes focused on the page, his right hand had absentmindedly reached across the table—as if hoping to find someone else’s. “I hugged my sketchbook on the way home that night,” I now murmured to Alex, remembering how my heart had swelled. “I’d never been more in love with a drawing.”
Alex responded by rubbing his temples. “You went to see him today.”
I nodded. “Yes, and we talked about—”
“I know what you talked about,” he interjected. “He gave me the recap while we had spaghetti Bolognese for dinner.” He sighed. “I should’ve been there. You guys aren’t talking about what you need to; I clearly need to guide the discussion.”
“And what exactly would that be?” I asked with a pounding in my chest. “What is this oh-so-fascinating topic that must be addressed?”
The expression on Alex’s face shifted from exasperation to extreme pain. I waited for him to say something. “Do you remember…” he said slowly. “What I said the night of the prank? About Taggart wanting a girlfriend?”
My mind flashed back to the three of us—the A team—trekking toward the sculpture sanctuary. Tag had been leading the way and out of earshot when Alex claimed Tag gushing about his cat translated to him secretly wanting a girlfriend. “Sure,” I said. “You said he wanted a girlfriend but that Blair didn’t count as one, and then you made this bizarre metaphor about her being a box of Band-Aids.”
“Bizarre?” Alex wrinkled his nose. “It’s not bizarre; it’s brilliant.”
“Brilliant?” I sighed. “Alex, I have no idea what you mean.”
Alex lowered his voice. “You dropped his heart, Lily,” he said. “You dropped it and shattered it. And I tried to pick up the pieces and put them back into his chest, but one is missing and the others won’t work without it.”
I felt a sharp pang in my ribs, an epiphany dawning on me. “Oh,” I breathed.
“Again and again, he goes back to Blair because he’s missing the most important piece of sparkling glass,” Alex continued. “He keeps patching up the dark hole with the same bandage because he believes you are lost and that he’s never going to find you.”
My eyes welled up with tears. I tried wiping them away, but it didn’t work. “Alex…”
“He desperately wants to find you, Lily.”
“He doesn’t need to find me.” I quietly started to cry, right there in detention. All this time! All this time, Tag had loved me, and I hadn’t let myself believe it. “I’m here. I promise I’m here. Yes, I hid for a while, but I’m not lost. I’m found, and I’ve always been his. You know that, Alex.”
