Page 83 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

I evade his question. “I’m not going to leave you. We’re a team. And the overworld is my world, too. I made it this far. We can finish this together. We can save the world. Both of them. It sounds silly when I say it out loud, but isn’t it the truth? We could be heroes.”

His eyes flutter shut. It feels like a victory, until he opens his mouth. “I’m no hero.”

“Krystal would disagree. So would Poppi and Yasmine. Madeline was my fault, not yours.”

“No.” The word flies out of him. His hand is on my chin, tilting my head up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “That wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. Do you understand?”

Startled, I nod. I don’t know where to put my hands, so I place them on his chest. His eyes are so dark I want to dive into them to see everything lurking beneath the surface. I want to know Luke inside out. With a start, I realize it’s because I want him to know me inside out.

It’s a scary thing, to know and be known. More to lose. But I already almost lost him, and I can’t pretend it wasn’t terrifying all the same.

“I love Thai takeout,” I tell him before my nerve makes a run for it. “And the rain, especially during a steamy Florida afternoon, because it’s warm and weird and perfect. My favorite flowers are purple coneflowers. They popped up every spring in our backyard at home and my dad and I used to complain that they looked freaky, but my mom loved them, so now I do, too. Before I ever thought about becoming a doctor, I wanted to go to film school. Being a producer or screenwriter seemed so cool. I love movies and—”

I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, realizing I’m rambling. Luke looks down at me with an intrigued expression. A nervous laugh shoots out. “Sorry, that was so random. I just was thinking about what you said in the van about wanting to know me, but—”

“I don’t think I’ve tried Thai food, but I bet I’d like it.” His voice is deep and genuine. My palms on his chest track the rumble of each word. “I love the rain. As I made my way east toward New York, it was my favorite companion. I’ve never thought much about flowers, but when I woke up in the overworld, I was in a field of poppies and they were the brightest colors I’d seen in my life. When I close my eyes, I still see them and can’t believe they were real. That any of the beautiful things natural to the overworld are.”

My heart hiccups. His hips are perfectly slotted between my knees. The front of his towel is mere centimeters from the place I’m warmest.

He hotly holds my gaze, continuing. “I never used to dream about what I’d be when I grew up because I wasn’t sure I would. When I did, management came easy to me, but I don’t think I’d call it a passion. What I really love is a good spreadsheet.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “The words ‘what I really love is a good spreadsheet’ should never leave the mouth of a human. Ever.”

He grins, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be sick to know the best part of my weekends was analyzing the data from the weekly report.”

I pretend to gag, but it loses impact because I can’t stop giggling. They’re overtired, what-hour-even-is-it giggles, but giggles all the same. “Disgusting. Diabolical. Borderline masochism.”

“Maybe I also enjoyed the brief interactions with you required to receive said report.”

That sops my laughter up, swiping my breath. “Oh? Enjoyed them so much you couldn’t remember my name isn’t Brianna?”

A throaty chuckle escapes him as he drops his head between us, shaking it. “You really thought I didn’t know your name?”

I shrug, the movement casual but the tension crackling between us absolutely feral. “Nobody else really knew me, besides Krystal. Why should you?”

His head lifts. “Because I wanted to. Maybe even before I realized it. The name thing was juvenile. I don’t know where it came from. I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”

My head tilts so my hair falls over my shoulder. He tracks the movement hungrily. “And now you can’t get me to shut up.”

“Wouldn’t want to even if I could.”

“No?” Now that I know what his mouth feels like on mine, I crave him. I hate that there’s still space between us. The fear of nearly losing him can only be quelled by feeling him everywhere. “I’m kind of tired of talking, personally.”

“And what would you rather do?” he asks, a husky edge to his voice.

Gabby wouldn’t be honest. But even though pieces of her still live within me, a truth that’s more evident by the day, I’m grateful I’m not her anymore. I’m me. No longer afraid to take what I want and survive a cross-country road trip through hell. So far, at least.

He’s not waiting for an answer—and I don’t intend to give him one. Not verbally, anyway.

Instead, I kiss him.

Twenty-seven

As soon as my lips press into Luke’s, his hands pull me closer like he’s starving and I’m the first meal he’s had in days. The movement likely jars his shoulder, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he hauls me toward him so I sit on the edge of the counter, my entire front flush to his.

This kiss is so spectacularly different from our kiss in the valley. That one was desperate and fleeting, over before it really began. This is all-consuming and heady, making time wait for us. His mouth is hot against mine, and greedy, like he can’t get enough of me. I tilt my head to deepen it, brushing his lower lip with my tongue. He lets me in, his own tongue meeting mine in an intentional exploration that leaves me weak and wild. With one hand on his chest and one behind his neck to keep him close to me, I arch my back, pressing myself fully to him.

He groans and the sound sparks a lightning strike through me. His right hand cups my jaw while his left toys with the hem of my thin T-shirt.