Jude’s watching me with a touch of arrogance. Like he wanted these letters to be boring. I flip a page with unnecessary force. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you so against the idea that something beyond logic could be at play here?”
“Why are you so eager to believe something supernatural is at play here?”
My mind turns to my mother.
Disappearing in fading pixels.
Swallowed up by a black hole of a monster.
“Do you honestly believe in the stuff you talk about on your podcast?” he asks.
My eyes snap to his.
The last time we broached the topic of my podcast, things didn’t go so well. And the memory of Rafe mentioning it is still fresh. It felt like a taunt, a more subtle rendition ofI’ve been watching you. He was messing with me. And now here I am, sitting at a table across from Jude, who isn’t backing down. He’s waiting for me to answer. This wealthy, refined, ridiculously gorgeous boy, his expression taut and slightly condescending. But there’s something else, too. A trace of hunger in his eyes. Like some repressed piece of him doesn’t just want to know, but wants to believe, too.
“I believe in the possibility,” I say.
He arches his brow. “You believe in the possibility of cryptids?”
“There’s been plenty of sightings.”
“None of them confirmed.”
“Because once they’re confirmed, they’re no longer cryptids.” I fold my hands on the table. “Not too terribly long ago, people thought theokapi and the Komodo dragon were mythical creatures.”
“Okay, then. What about vampires?”
“Thirteen percent of Americans believe in them.”
“Where did you get that number?”
“Twig.”
He rolls his eyes. “Time travel?”
“Definitely possible.”
“Haunted dolls?”
“I’m not saying I’m a believer, but if you dared me to spend the night inside of Bogaard Antiques all by myself, I’d probably say no.”
He scoffs.
“Do you believe in God?” I ask.
The question seems to catch him off guard.
He leans back in his seat, his hands resting on either side of the volume in front of him. There’s a thin leather cord tied around his left wrist, which is tan, and much sexier than any wrist ought to be. “I don’t know.”
“Can you concede in the possibility of God existing?”
“Saying no to that would make me sound really arrogant.”
This time,Irollmyeyes. “Just answer the question.”
