I shake my head.
“Maybe…”
He’s walking on eggshells. It’s annoying. Does he really think I’m that fragile?
“I’ll talk to my dad about it.”
Seth hesitates. “Can you?”
“Yes,” I say irritably. “If I can handle everything I’ve already handled, I can handle this.”
“You’re right,” he says after a moment. “I’ve always liked that about you.”
I’m startled. “Liked what?”
He looks down at his hands, then back up at me. “How you handle shit. You’ve had more happen to you than anyone I know, and you just keep going like it’s nothing.”
I look out at the rain. “It’s not nothing. If I could trade with someone with a boring life, I would.”
His laugh is a little husky. “Yeah, I get that.”
His eyes flicker to mine again. I can’t think. I put my head in my hands.
“Addie.” Seth’s hand is on my arm. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Suddenly, I don’t want to think about any of this. It’s all too much. Mom, Gen’s mom, Fiona—
And Seth sitting here, looking at me the way he did in the Airbnb. It’s dim in here with just the light from the desk lamp. The rain is still falling on the roof.
“Why did you pick this room?” I’m afraid of what might happen if we don’t keep talking. “There have to be bigger ones.”
He breaks my gaze and looks up at the slanted ceiling. “That’s why I picked it. My room in the city is big for the city, but that just means it’s about this size. And the ones downstairs are, like, five times this. Sleeping in a giant room, you feel so…exposed. There was a reason the old kings had beds with drapes around them. Castle bedrooms are too big.” A pause. “Also, I like the sound of the rain on the roof.”
“I do, too.”
There’s something charged in the air between us. Seth looks warm and soft, sweatpants and T-shirt and drying curls. Our hands are inches apart, splayed on his navy bedspread. I don’t know what’s coming over me. Only that I want to touch him so badly it hurts.
And so I do.
I lift my hand and run a finger up his arm, on the underside where the skin is soft and the hair not as thick. Seth looks down, startled; then his eyes move from my hand to my face. “Addie?”
“I just want…” I swallow. It’s all the questions swirling in my brain—I want to wipe them from my mind, close my eyes and feel Seth’s hands on me. Suddenly I want that more than anything in the world. I burn with it.
My finger is still trailing up his arm. His body is half-turned toward me. His hand moves up and touches my face. I see the decision in his eyes solidify. He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine.
Darkness, then an explosion of color behind my eyelids. Seth’s lips are soft, the stubble around them rough, making me shiver. And I remember it. I remember exactly what this feels like. How good it is.
His hand moves to the side of my face, then the back of my head, holding me firmly to him, his fingers threading through my still-wet hair. I twist my body so it’s facing his, and a moment later he gathers me onto his lap, my legs straddling him. He pulls back for a second, questions in his eyes; my breath is ragged in the second it takes me to press my lips to his again.
And then we’re falling onto the bed, rolling to the side, his hand still in my hair, kissing like the world is ending. Each kiss is like a spark going through my body, each touch a thunderbolt, and oh, why didn’t I let myself do this before? There is nothing this good, nothing in the world—
Suddenly there’s a creak somewhere in the hallway. In a flash, Seth is moving away from me, off the bed, and to the door.
He opens it and goes still. I compose myself, then peer around him. I’m startled to see his father, Harold Montgomery, standing in the doorway.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and suddenly I’m freezing.
Seth’s dad looks from his son to me, a deep frown on his face. “Seth? What’s this?”
“What are you doing here?” Seth’s breathing hard.
“That’s not your concern.” His frown deepens. “Who gave you permission to have girls over, up in your room, with no one home?”
I expect Seth to snap back that he’s nineteen, he doesn’t need permission, but he keeps his mouth shut. “She got caught in the rain, and—”
“I don’t want to hear excuses.” Harold looks at me. “Adelaide, I think you should go home.”
“I’ll walk you—” Seth starts.
“You will do no such thing,” Harold Montgomery says. “You and I need to have a chat.”
I hop off the bed, my face burning. Seth’s father steps to the side to let me pass, but he doesn’t leave me much space. After grabbing my still-wet clothes, I turn sideways, intending to just slip out of the room, but I make the mistake of looking into his face. Again I’m struck by how little he and Seth look alike.
“I’m sorry,” I manage. “We were just talking, and—”
“Olivia, just—”
He stops. His eyes flicker downward and meet mine. A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Adelaide,” he says. “I meant Adelaide. Just go, please.”