Elliott’s face went blank. Before he could ruin the moment with a sharp remark, I closed the distance and hugged him as tightly as I could. Our bodies pressed flush together, my arms wrapped around his neck. He was stiff at first, but then he pulled me in even tighter. The strength of his arms caged me in, and it felt good. Too good.
I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, but the hug loosened something in me I hadn't realized I was holding. He sighed into my hair, and I breathed into his shoulder, trying to memorize the scent of him.
Then, a scream shattered it.
“VANESSA, YOU GOT CHLOE A KARAOKE MACHINE?! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
I pulled back and bit back a smile glancing up at Elliott, who was doing the same. He rolled his eyes—the kind of exasperated-but-amused look that said my family was absolutely unhinged.
“I think now’s the best time to leave,” I whispered. “In fact, we shouldn’t even say goodbye.”
“But what about the cake? Your birthday?” he asked, his arms still tight around my waist.
“It’s not really my birthday yet. My family’s taking me to dinner then. Mom just always puts all the close birthdays on one cake. Makes her feel frugal—even though the bounce house probably cost her a fortune.” I tugged his sleeve. “C’mon. Let’s go before she kills me.”
He finally let me go, the spell broken. “You, scared of someone?” he teased.
“Yeah. My sister came out of the womb evil. Mom had to hide anything sharp from her when she was barely crawling because she stabbed me with a pencil. Tiny but mighty. So, let’s go.”
“Are you sure you don’t have to say goodbye to anybody?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Wow, I underestimated you. You really love a bloodbath, don’t you?”
He leaned against the wall, smirking. “Perhaps.”
“So help me God, I’ll hitch a ride and risk murder that way before I get caught here. Either get me out of here, or you’ll be bailing me out of jail for stealing someone’s car.”
“Fine,” he said, pushing off the wall. “But only because you threatened to drive. And who knows how many people would be in danger with you on the road.”
I grinned. “That’s fair.”
eighteen
ELLIOTT
I foundthem curled up together, a treasonous pile of limbs and blankets.
I didn’t bother knocking before I cracked the door. “Is Steve—” I stopped. The dog was tucked firmly into the crook of Vanessa’s knees, peeking over the duvet like a furry bodyguard.
“Et tu,Steve?” I strolled in and plopped down on the edge of the mattress. Vanessa was buried under a mountain of pillows, a tub of popcorn balanced on her lap. “I thought you only ateCheetos and the hearts of young children,” I said, snatching a handful of popcorn.
Steve didn't hesitate; he abandoned her lap for the snack in my hand. I shot her a smug look, even though I knew the dog was a mercenary for whoever held the calories.
“The popcorn balances out my bloodthirsty diet,” she said sweetly.
“That smile is so artificial it could cause cancer,” I fired back.
It was our rhythm. Cut, parry, bleed. We had been dealing in paper cuts for so long I’d forgotten what it felt like not to have a blade between us. The hug at the party and the way I’d jumped to her defense earlier that day sat like an unexploded bomb between us. I hadn't mentioned it. I didn't think she would, either.
“So, how does the great Vanessa Miranda unwind?” I asked, scooting toward the head of the bed and propping myself up against a mountain of pillows.
She stayed quiet, letting the TV answer. I chewed thoughtfully—until the screen flashed a graphic crime scene photo of a blood covered basement floor. I nearly choked.
“THIS?! This is how you relax?!”
“You knew I liked true crime,” she said, completely unfazed by the arterial spray on the screen.
“Yeah, but this? Right before bed? That’s demented, Ness.”
