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“Good idea. We’ll get Dean to start a truth or dare game. You can ask Penny if Boat Shoes has a bigger cock—”
“I don’t give a fuck about his cock.”
“What if that was why she left?”
“It wasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I hug the blanket. Every petty, immature impulse rises in my throat. I’m a teenager again, crying at a party because the guy I like is never going to like me back.
Because there’s no one waiting at home to wrap their arms around me and promise it will be okay.
I grew up taking care of myself.
I can do it again.
But it feels so good, letting Ryan take care of me.
Letting him in.
I can’t give that up.
He brushes a wet hair behind my ear. “You need to know something, Leigh.”
“Yeah?”
“I have an exclusive on crying in this room.”
“Is that right?”
“I’m the only person allowed to be miserable in here.”
“Scribble no one understands me in your sketchbook?”
“Exactly.”
“Draw I hate my parents on your arm?”
He shakes his head. “Angry lyrics.”
“Linkin Park?”
“Everybody my age screamed Linkin Park at some point.”
“You’re forty, right?”
He chuckles. “You want to know a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I’m a vampire.”
My laugh breaks up the tension in my shoulders. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. I’m four hundred.”
