Page 24 of See You in Your Dreams

I swallow an immediate burst of bitterness as I remember that college applications might not matter anymore. While I still haven’t broached the subject with Mom yet, putting off university for a couple years still seems like the most responsible course. Why waste time on things like homework or my vet internship when my family needs me?

I make it through my next few classes relatively unscathed. There’s a presentation coming up in American Lit that Alexis and I will need to prep for this weekend, and I’m pretty sure my team in PE was ready to slug me after I zoned out and nearly cost us a game. But at last, lunch arrives, granting me a blessed reprieve to breathe.

I should probably take the hour to get a head start on tonight’s homework, but just thinking about doing more work right now makes my eyes droop. So instead, I start my usual route toward Mr. Simon’s room to meet up with my friends. I’m so out of it that it takes me a few beats to realize someone’s calling my name.

“Dylan! Hey, wait up!”

I turn, stumbling to a shocked halt when I realize it’s Ash. I’d tried not to read too much into his surprise invite last Friday. Maybe he’d just felt obligated to let me see the cat I’d played some small part in rescuing. But seeing him standing there, wearing his usual scowl as he brushes his dark hair out of his eyes, makes my stomach flutter.

“Ash. What’s up? How’s Onyx?”

Something flickers across his face before he offers a shrug. “Fine. Now that she’s gotten some food in her, she’s turning into a little ball of fur and chaos.”

I chuckle at the mental image. “Make sure you play with her to get some of that energy out.”

“Don’t worry—my aunt spoils her rotten. I caught her slipping Onyx a bowl of milk last night.”

I frown. “You know, that’s actually a common misconception. Most cats are lactose intolerant. Giving her milk is a good way to upset her stomach.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies dryly.

There’s an awkward pause, and I glance around, realizing we’re alone in the corridor. My pulse quickens, especially when I look over to find Ash studying me intently.

“What is it?” I ask. I shuffle my feet, my shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.

He clenches and unclenches his jaw, seeming to debate something. At last, he huffs out a long sigh. “I wanted to, um, apologize.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Apologize? For what?”

It’s his turn to shuffle awkwardly. “For, well, you know.”

I can’t hold back a laugh. “No, I don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking.”

He lets out a frustrated growl, swiping a hand angrily through his bangs. “For getting all weird on Friday and making such a big deal out of my aunt’s stupid tarot cards.”

Wow. Ash apologizing wasnotsomething I thought I’d see anytime soon—maybe ever. Not with how closed off he always seems or how determined he is to push everyone away.

Now that it’s clear what this is about, my pulse returns to something resembling normal. I fix him with a smirk. “That’s big of you to admit that you were wrong about tarot cards.”

His scowl returns in an instant. “That’snotwhat I said!”

I shrug. “That’s what it sounded like to me. You just acknowledged how unfair you were being to that noble art of divination.”

He narrows his eyes. “Well, let me set the record straight, then. I. Loathe. Tarot. There, is that unambiguous enough for you?”

I reach out and pat his arm in mock consolation. “There, there. It’s okay. No reason to get so defensive. Your secret is safe with me.”

His firm bicep shifts under my fingers, and I quickly yank my hand away, my skin tingling.God, I hope he didn’t notice that.

If he did, he doesn’t call me on it. Instead, he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Whatever.” His gaze darts past me down the hall, and he hesitates. “Well, I said what I had to say. Guess I’ll let you get back to your lunch.”

He starts to move past me, adjusting his backpack straps, and I’m suddenly gripped by the frantic impulse not to let him out of my sight. “Wait!”

He pauses, glancing back at me with a curious look. His face remains the same hardened mask he usually wears around school, though I think I see some cracks around its edges. I get the impression he doesn’t want to go any more than I want him to leave.

Probably wishful thinking.

Wishful thinking or not, however, I find the courage to press on. “For the record, apology accepted.” I raise a finger. “Though I expect more kitty visitation hours in compensation.”