“Where’s Ike?” I asked, looking at the faces surrounding the kitchen table.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked, concerned. “Were you cry-”
“Where’s Ike,” I repeated, not letting him finish.
Jessica piped up. “In his bedroom.”
“Thanks,” I said to her. With that, I turned around and started down the hall again. When I got to the guys’ bedroom door, I knocked on it quietly. “Ike?” I asked.
“It’s open,” he replied.
Slowly, I pushed the door open and walked into the room. I shut it behind me and crossed the room to sit down next to Ike on the floor before the Lego table.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked quietly. “Is Evie okay? She seemed pretty pissed.”
I nodded, still not quite sure how to word everything. Finally, I decided to shoot from the hip. I took in a deep breath. “Um . . . Here’s the thing: Evie was awake this morning when you came in. I didn’t know that until just now. And, well, she saw when we . . . y’know . . .”
“When we kissed?” he supplied, idly snapping together two yellow Legos. “I figured as much.”
I looked at him. “How?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe because she kept shooting laser death-rays at me every time she looked my way,” he said flatly.
I forced a small half smile that immediately collapsed. “Now she’s mad,” I said.
“Again, figured.”
I nodded. “You remember when we were in the mall the other day?” I asked.
“When we were running from the stalkers?” he asked with a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I remember.”
I swallowed. “Remember how I told you about me and Evie’s pact - that nothing would come between us?” Ike nodded. “Well, it seems something has. And, Evie’s just so important to me, y’know? She’s my best friend and I’d do anything for her -”
“I know,” he whispered, setting the Legos down and turning to me.
I bit the inside corners of my mouth and wrapped my arms around him. “This is so hard,” I whispered. “I mean, you mean a lot to me now, too.”
Isaac returned my embrace. “I know,” he assured me. “And you mean a lot to me.”
“It’s just, I’ve known Evie so much longer,” I continued, only half-hearing what he had said. “I’m so sorry, Isaac.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, too.”
“She’s just my best friend,” I added, squeezing him tighter.
He ran his hand over my hair. “A best friend wouldn’t make you choose like this,” he told me.
I nodded. “I know,” I told him.
chapter twenty-three
The Index
The Window Seat
