BooksBarbecue
Back Any Way the Wind Blows
Chapters (100)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. EPILOGUE
  96. AGATHA
  97. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  98. Also by Rainbow Rowell
  99. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  100. Newsletter Sign-up

But the last thirty-six hours have been different. He promised to try, and he is trying, and he keeps taking me off guard. First I don’t know what’s coming, and then I don’t know what’s hit me … And I can’t believe how much better it is. Bracing for something instead of more nothing.

I wait for it …

After a few minutes, Simon’s body relaxes against mine. His wings settle on his back. His breathing slows. He turns his head away from me, laying his cheek on my shoulder. “I can’t believe you pulled my tail…” he says, wearily, and like he genuinely can’t believe it.

I relax, too. “Oh, like you wouldn’t be yanking me around by the tail if I had one.”

Simon laughs, just with his breath. “If you’d had a tail back at Watford, you’d have woken up every morning with it tied to your bed.”

I’m still massaging his tail, inch by inch. My hand is at the base now, and I let it slide through my palm all the way to its spaded tip. “I’ve got to pull your tail while you still have one.”

Simon lifts his head to face me. He looks in my eyes for a second. It’s measuring, observant. Possibly resigned. Then his gaze drops to my mouth.

He moves towards me slowly, and I part my lips to get ready for him.

He kisses me.

I kiss him back, squarely. Firmly. Matter-of-factly. You’re all I want, I think. And you can have everything you need.

I’m not sure what he’s telling me with this kiss. I pretend it’s Yes and Yes and Be kind to me.

SIMON

Fine, you fucker. Have me. Just have me.

Do your worst, you stubborn twat.

Be the death of me.

You’ll be the death of me.

33

SIMON

Baz pulls away first.

He almost never pulls away first.

He sits back against the wall. “Hey,” he says, like he’s just thought of something. He has my tail twined around his arm again from wrist to elbow. He lets go, and it slithers away. (I can control the tail if I think about it, but it mostly moves of its own accord.)

I rest on my heels. We should sit like this more often—I like the way Baz looks, looking up at me.

He wipes his mouth with his butterfly-blue cuff. “Everyone at the meeting tonight will know who you are,” he says.

“Right. That’s the problem.”

“And everyone knows you’ve lost your magic.”

“Apparently they don’t believe it,” I say, thinking of Lady Salisbury.

“So we lean into that.”

“Lean into what?” My knees are killing me. Maybe we shouldn’t make a habit of this. I try to shift onto the floor, but there’s nowhere to put my legs.