“My gut is telling me something else altogether,” I admit, the knot growing further with my admission, and he smiles.
“No, Princess, that's your nervous system expecting old shit from new people.”
My blood spikes.
“Well, I don't do well with criticism,” I blurt, and he stops dead in his tracks, dropping my bag to his feet as he turns his entire attention my way.
“Ivy, I'm not criticizing you, I'm in awe of you. You're like a new person.”
“You keep saying stuff like that, but you’re not really explaining why,” I admit as he inches closer, tucking a loose curl behind my ear and stealing my breath along with it.
I feel like he searches my eyes for an eternity before he speaks. “You are irrevocably yourself. It's like the phoenix burned through your façade.” My nose crinkles in confusion. “If the sleepover was tonight, and I asked you to pretend with me again, I'm pretty certain you would tell me to fuck off,” he states.
Memories of that night come to mind, freezing me in place. So much has happened since then. To me, to us, to everything. I've died twice since then. I've lost my virginity since then. I've learned a lot since then, especially about my powers, and he's right. I can't deny it, but agreeing feels like defeat, so I dip my head instead.
He doesn't let me linger there long before he taps his finger under my chin, tilting my head back up. “I feel like I'm finally getting a glimpse of you,” he whispers, his voice so soft it sends a shiver down my spine as his breath ghosts over my cheek.
I gulp.
“Me too,” I admit, and I’m instantly rewarded with a soft smile as his thumb runs across my jaw. “It wasn't when I died, though,” I add, and his eyebrows rise in surprise.
“No?”
“It was the day I set myself on fire for the first time,” I murmur, and he grins wider.
“How did it make you feel?” he asks, the question catching me off guard as I blink at him for a few moments, yet only one word comes to mind.
“Alive.”
The admission falls from my lips with ease before he leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I blink, and he’s staring deep into my eyes.
“It's my mission to make you feel like that again and again,” he promises, and before I can respond, he steps back, grabbing my bag once more and hikes it over his shoulder as we fall into sync.
Silence engulfs us as we move, our knuckles brushing for the briefest second, and goosebumps run down my spine. I must not be the only one to sense it because he cocks a brow a moment later, peering at me from the corner of his eye.
“So, should I be wary of you overheating in here?” he asks, and my jaw falls slack as I gape at him.
“Who told you that?” I mutter, my cheeks heating with a tinge of embarrassment, but there's a part of me that feels a sense of pride.
“Both,” he admits, and my eyes narrow.
“You're all a bunch of gossipers,” I grumble, and he shrugs.
“It's good we weren't previously,” he states, confusing me, just like usual.
“Previously?” I repeat, and when he turns his face fully my way, it stops my breath in my tracks.
“We watched you die, Ivy. That changes things.”
My mouth dries, and I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “Like what?” I dare to ask, and he shrugs.
“Like us pretending not to care,” he says, walking just as casually as I shake my head.
“That's not a good enough reason to gossip.” My statement earns me a pointed look.
“We're not gossiping, we're making sure we're all aware of the entire situation,” he clarifies, and I fold my arms over my chest.
