“Sounds like a plan.”
She nodded, then began to trudge toward her door. “I’ll be in my room. Wave at the gargoyles for me.”
I snorted. “Yeah, ’cause they’re gonna wave back?”
She arched an eyebrow.
Right. We were at St. Sophia’s.
But it was also a weekend at St. Sophia’s, so the buildings were pretty quiet as I walked to the front door. Some of the girls’ parents picked them up for a weekend visit home; some of them headed outside to explore the city.
Me? I was going on a date with a werewolf.
He stood at the edge of the grounds in jeans and a tucked-in, button-up shirt in the same spring blue as his eyes. In his hand was an old-fashioned picnic basket.
“Hello, Lily Parker,” Jason said, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. “Happy Saturday.”
“Happy Saturday.”
“Our goal for today,” he said, “is to pretend to be normal for a few hours. So I thought we’d spend our time outside. In the sun. And not underground.”
I smiled grandly. “Great minds think alike.” I nodded at the basket. “What’s that?”
“We’re having a picnic.”
“A picnic?”
He held out his hand. “Come on. We only have an hour.”
I looked at him for a minute, trying to figure out what he was up to, before taking his hand. “An hour before what?”
“For lunch. Then we have an appointment.”
“All right, bucko. But this better be good.”
“Bucko? We aren’t going on a date in nineteen seventy-four.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin. Taking my hand in his, he led me down the sidewalk.
Our picnic spot was a square of grass in a long, narrow park that ran between two buildings off Michigan Avenue. It was like one row in a checkerboard, squares of grass alternating with fountains and plazas with benches. Jason pulled his fleece blanket out of the picnic basket and gallantly held out a hand.
I took a seat and waited for him to unload the basket. The first thing he pulled out was a glossy white box. He unfolded the top, revealing two brownies topped with a dusting of powdered sugar.
I pulled a chunk from one of them and took a bite. “Wow. That’s really good.”
“I made them myself.”
I slid him a suspicious glance.
“Did I say ‘make’? I meant to say I bought them at a bakery on the way over here.”
“I figured. I mean, how would you have the time to bake? And you live in a dorm room, right? Do you even have a kitchen?”
“I have matches and a mug warmer.”
“Rebel.”
“And with a cause, too. Just stick with me, kid. I’m going places.”
I shook my head at the joke and pulled out another piece of brownie, trying to avoid splattering my jeans with a snowfall of powdered sugar.
For nearly an hour, we sat on the blanket in the grass, and ate our lunch. We joked. We laughed. We talked about our hometowns and the people we went to school with.
For nearly an hour, we pretended to be teenagers who had nothing more to do on a weekend than finish up homework, spend the night at a girlfriend’s house, or figure out what to wear to class on Monday morning.
We just . . . were.
And the more we sat in the grass on that beautiful fall day, the more we laughed.
Every time Jason laughed, his nose crinkled up.
Every time Jason laughed, my heart tugged a little.
If I wasn’t careful, I was gonna fall for this boy.
And yet something was . . . weird. Maybe it was the fact that I’d seen Sebastian. Maybe it was the fact that I’d seen Jason in wolf form. Maybe he was just tired. But there was something in his eyes. Something darker than I’d seen before. Scout had said once that the summer had been long, that the Adepts were tired.
Maybe fighting the good fight was wearing on him, as well.
But I pushed the thought aside. There would be enough worry when darkness fell again. For now the sun was enough.
When lunch was done, the trash was tossed and the blanket was packed away again. Taking my hand in his, Jason led me toward our “appointment” on the other side of the river. As we crossed the bridge, I walked beside the railing, my eyes on the water beneath us.
“They dye it green for St. Patrick’s Day, you know.”
“Yeah, I saw that on TV once. It’s cool that it runs right through downtown.”
On the other side of the bridge, we took a set of steps down to a small riverside dock. I looked over at him. “What are you up to?”
“We’re taking a ride,” he said, then gestured to his right. I glanced out across the river, where a longish boat topped with dozens of chairs was gliding toward us.
“River tour,” he added. “We’re going to take a little trip.”
“I see. Thanks for keeping me posted.”
“Anytime, Lily. Anytime.”
When the boat pulled up, we waited while the passengers stepped off; then Jason handed the captain two tickets. We took seats beside each other at the front of the boat, and when the coast was clear, the captain motored us into the river. We headed away from the lake, deeper into the forest of steel and concrete. I stared up as the towers drew nearer, growing larger. Some looked like pointy pinnacles of glass. Others were round, like giant sugar canisters.
“They call them the corncobs,” Jason said, pointing to those twin, curvy towers that were full of parked cars.
“They look like it,” I agreed, neck stretched upward as I watched them pass.
“Here, lean back against me,” he whispered, rearranging himself so that his body supported mine. I leaned back, my head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and we floated down the Chicago River, the world around us. For the first time in a long while, I felt safe. Secure, like even if the world was full of ghosts and monsters and evil motivations, they couldn’t get to me. Not now. Not while we floated on inky blue water, the riveted steel of bridges above us, orangey red against the bright blue sky.
“I was thinking about the Sneak,” he whispered. “I think we should go together.”
My stomach felt like tiny birds had taken flight, and I was glad he couldn’t see the silly grin on my face. “Yeah,” I said. “That sounds good.”
He squeezed me tighter. “Life is good.”
For once, in that moment, it simply was.
But moments like that don’t last forever, do they?
We were back on land, walking toward St. Sophia’s when he pulled me toward the alley and the garden of thorns. I figured he wanted a quiet place to talk. I hadn’t expected him to unbutton his shirt. Blushing, I looked away, but I got enough of a view to see that he had the body of an athlete.