Only Matt would call being arrested no harm. The guy is so laid-back, he’s like the human equivalent of Xanax. I want that. I need that. All I can think about is what my father might say, and whether or not this will go on my record, and if it will affect my scholarship, and what Henry will say.
I stop myself there. I don’t have to worry about what Henry will say because we’re over. That should bother me. We broke up a week ago, and after four years together, I should be devastated. I should be moving right past shock and denial into the never-wears-anything-but-sweatpants stage.
I don’t know what it says about me that I’m not. That I only think of him out of habit, nothing else.
I keep going, berating myself the way I wish Matt would. “We make plans for a reason, and I didn’t stick to it. I should have walked away as soon as they gave the dispersal order. Next time I do something this stupid, don’t you dare come after me.”
“Nah. Next time I’ll just clobber you over the head. Save us both the trouble.”
I roll my eyes because we both know that would never happen. Matt’s one of those guys who will always put themselves on the line for a friend. He could pretty much pass for a real-life Disney prince . . . if Disney made bearded, bisexual princes.
“Still . . . it wasn’t cool of me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so frustrated, and tired of chanting while they ignored us. It made sense at the time.”
“Yeah, well. You’ve had a lot on your mind lately.”
I shoot him a glare. He thinks I’m behaving irrationally because of the breakup, but that’s ridiculous. I’m not crazy. Matt, my mother, my roommate Nell—everyone keeps waiting for me to snap, to fold in on myself and just lose it because my boyfriend and I are no more. And maybe they’re right. Maybe this is some weird emotional shock, and in a few weeks the hurt will hit me out of nowhere. But right now? The tiptoeing around the subject just makes me want to scream. “This had nothing to do with that.”
Sure my life plan has taken a nosedive. And it wouldn’t be unreasonable to freak out that the future I’ve been envisioning since Henry and I started dating four years ago has been blasted to bits.
But my boyfriend (or lack thereof) can’t be the most important thing about me. So screw plans and futures and heartache and all of that. For the moment, I just need to focus on me.
Or I could keep doing crazy things like ignoring a direct order from police after a day of being ignored and derided for daring to stand up for the homeless population in town, which is about to lose one of only two shelters within twenty miles. Well . . . maybe I went a little further than just ignoring a direct order. I might have handcuffed myself to a pole outside the shelter.
“Then what was it about? Why’d you do it?” Matt asks.
“Because I couldn’t not do it.”
“Yeaaaah . . . that explanation is going to hold up really well against your father.”
“Next time I promise not to let my emotions get the better of me when handcuffs are involved.”
The attractive potential criminal shifts, and when I look at him, his eyebrows are raised in interest. His eyes really are far too pretty for a guy like him. Dudes who look dangerous should just be dangerous. Period. The end. They should not be dangerous and beautiful all at the same time. It leaves the universe out of balance, and it makes me do stupid things like stare. At a guy behind bars. If ever there were a kind of guy I should not stare at, someone potentially going to prison definitely has to rank in the top three.
Matt stretches out his long legs and says, “Next time, just tell me you want to get arrested ahead of time. That way I can make sure we’re prepared. Javier is going to be pissed. Unless, of course, you want to call daddy dearest to get us out.”
I don’t even have to glare before he’s holding up his hands in surrender.
“Why would you want to get arrested?” The dangerous one speaks. His voice is low and smooth with a slight Texas drawl that stretches out his words and draws my eyes to his lips.
“Handcuff fetish,” Matt says, and I go bright red.
I am going to thump him so many times.
I glare and clear my throat. “Getting arrested can sometimes be the most powerful way to draw attention to a cause.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “A cause?”
“A political one.” That eyebrow drops, and he nods, crossing his arms and turning his attention away from me.
I must still be cracked in the head because his complete dismissal reminds me of our protest today, of the way the city can just take away a sanctuary for people who have no other place to go, and not even bat an eye. It makes me want to do some more stupid things. I stand and grip the bars in front of me and say, “You know, it’s youth like you that give our whole generation a bad name.”
He leans back and surveys me with annoyance. “Youth? How old are you?”
I wave a hand. “Young people. Whatever. My point is everyone thinks that we’re these ignorant kids who are more concerned with our phones than the state of the world, and it’s because of people like you turning up your nose at the slightest mention of politics.”
He stands to mimic me, only he’s so much taller, and his shoulders are broad, and his arms too muscled to slip completely through the bars like mine do. “People like me? What the f**k does that mean? Poor? Uneducated? Trash?”
I jerk back. “What? No. I didn’t say any of those things. I just mean the stereotypical young adults who—”