If I Promise You Wings by A.K. Small

Author:A.K. Small
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Workman Publishing Company
Published: 2023-11-30T22:34:54+00:00

Chapter 21

When I wake, I think I’m on rue Jean Cocteau in my old bed because someone is tuning an instrument, and I want to tell Papa that I have a banging headache. Except when I open my eyes, Blaise is sitting at the kitchen table, plucking his guitar in his plaid pajamas. I’m so shocked to see him I sit straight up and hold the fur over myself as if I’m naked beneath it, though I am still in my hoodie, T-shirt, leggings, and socks.

Blaise plucks a couple strings, hitting high notes, then looks in my direction. “I tried not to wake you, but it’s past lunch—”

“Oh god,” I say, thinking about the boutique.

“Don’t worry,” Blaise replies, as if he read my thoughts. “I called them this morning. I was up at six and when you were still sleeping at quarter of nine, I thought it would be a good idea to cover for you.” He plays a chord, then makes the exact same sound with his voice.

“Who did you talk to?”

“A woman named Faiza who said you’re fine. Everyone got the day off.”

“Did she ask who you were?”

“I said your brother because I’m not trying to make Raven jealous.”

“My brother?”

Blaise raps his knuckles on the amp. “Je rigole. Faiza didn’t ask.”

I sigh, relieved.

“What’s the problem with me being your brother?” Blaise asks. “I take offense. I’d be a great brother.”

For a long time, I sit and say nothing, for so long in fact that Blaise gets up and brings me a cup of coffee.

“Hungover?”

I nod, then add, “No, I mean yes, I wouldn’t want you to be my brother, I don’t think, and I rarely drink.”

“Of course,” Blaise replies. He plays another few chords.

I look up at him and say, “It’s true. I already have one unstable musician in my family. No disrespect but I don’t need another one.”

One of Blaise’s dimples creases, but he also has this fervent look in his eyes, and his expression unravels me. I’m suddenly highly aware that I am sitting in this boy’s bed.

“It’s cool,” he says. “I’m not one to judge. But just to clarify, I might be a musician, but I’m not unstable.”

Blaise appraises me. I want him to know that I’m not unstable either, so as I drink his coffee, I blurt out every little detail from yesterday morning when I first woke up to when I banged on his door last night. I even tell him about Manon reclining in her nightie on the worktable, and Raven, high, wanting to draw us.

“A nightie? Oh là là.” Blaise makes a sultry face, but then, serious again, he says, “Congrats on the bid. That’s huge.”

“Thanks,” I say, then, “I’d better get going. I’ve already messed up your day.” I put the coffee cup on his dresser, fold the blanket, and place it back inside his chest.

“Just so you know, not everyone gets the faux-fur treatment,” Blaise says, fidgeting.

My eyes are drawn to Betty, dangling in front of his chest, to his pajama pants, hanging low on his hips like his jeans.

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