Fallen 2. Torment(102)

lap, whether they'd brush against Miles's fingertips if she rested them at her sides. Out of

the corner of her eye, she could see his chest moving when he breathed. She could hear

him scratch the back of his neck. He'd taken his baseball cap off, and she could smell the

citrusy shampoo in his fine brown hair.

Hannah and Her Sisters was one of the few Woody Allen movies she'd never

seen, but she could not make herself pay attention. She'd crossed and uncrossed her legs

three times before the opening titles rolled.

The door swung open. Shelby barreled into the room, took one look at Luce's

computer monitor, and blurted, "Best Thanksgiving movie ever! Can I watch with--"

Then she looked at Luce and Miles, sitting in the dark on the bed. "Oh."

Luce bolted up off the bed. "Of course you can! I didn't know when you were

leaving to go home--"

"Never." Shelby flung herself on the top bunk, sending a small earthquake down

to Luce and Miles on the bottom bunk. "My mom and I got in a fight. Don't ask, it was

utterly boring. Besides, I'd much rather hang out with you guys, anyway."

"But Shelby--" Luce couldn't imagine getting in a fight so big it kept her from

going home on Thanksgiving.

"Let's just enjoy the genius of Woody in silence," Shelby commanded.

Miles and Luce shot each other a conspiratorial look. "You got it," Miles called

up to Shelby, giving Luce a grin.

Truthfully, Luce was relieved. When she settled back into her seat, her fingers did

brush against Miles's, and he gave them a squeeze. It was only for a moment, but it was

long enough to let Luce know that, at least as far as Thanksgiving weekend was

concerned, things were going to be okay.

168





SEVENTEEN

TWO DAYS

Luce woke to the scrape of a hanger dragging across the bar in her closet.

Before she could see who was responsible for the noise, a mound of clothes

bombarded her. She sat up in bed, pushing her way out from under the pile of jeans, Tshirts, and sweaters. She plucked an argyle sock off her forehead.

"Arriane?"

"Do you like the red one? Or the black?" Arriane was holding two of Luce's

dresses up against her tiny frame, swaying as she modeled each one.

Arriane's arms were bare of the awful tracking wristband she'd had to wear at

Sword & Cross. Luce hadn't noticed until now, and she shuddered to remember the cruel

voltage sent coursing through Arriane whenever she stepped out of line. Every day in

California, Luce's memories of Sword & Cross grew hazier, until a moment like this one

jolted her back into the turmoil of her stay there.

"Elizabeth Taylor says only certain women can wear red," Arriane continued. "It's

all about cleavage and coloring. Luckily, you've got both." She freed the red dress from

its hanger and tossed it on the pile.

"What are you doing here?" Luce asked.

Arriane put her tiny hands on her hips. "Helping you pack, silly. You're going

home."

"Wh-What home? What do you mean?" Luce stammered.

Arriane laughed, stepping forward to take one of Luce's hands and tug her out of

bed. "Georgia, my peach." She patted Luce's cheek. "With good old Harry and Doreen.

And apparently some friend of yours is also flying in."

Callie. She was actually going to get to see Callie? And her parents? Luce

wobbled where she stood, suddenly speechless.

"Don't you want to spend Thanksgiving with your fam?"

Luce was waiting for the catch. "What about--"

"Don't worry." Arriane tweaked Luce's nose. "It was Mr. Cole's idea. We've got to

keep up the ruse that you're still just down the road from your parents. This seemed the

simplest and most fun way to go about it."

"But when he texted me yesterday, all he said was--"

"He didn't want to get your hopes up until he had every little thing taken care of,

including"--Arriane curtseyed--"the perfect escort. One of them, anyway. Roland should

be here any second."

A knock on the door.

"He's so good." Arriane pointed to the red dress still in Luce's hand. "Throw that

169

baby on."

Luce quickly shimmied into the dress, then ducked into the bathroom to brush her

teeth and hair. Arriane had presented her with one of those rare Jump!--How high?

situations. You didn't bother with questions. You just leaped.

She emerged from the bathroom, expecting to see Roland and Arriane doing

something Roland-and-Arriane-esque, like one of them standing on top of her suitcase

while the other tried to zip it up.

But it wasn't Roland who had knocked.

It was Steven and Francesca.

Shit.

The words I can explain formed on the tip of Luce's tongue. Only, she had no idea