Page 62 of Echoes of the Banshee

“You know,” I say, pointing at her. “I am charming. No need to act like I’m some court jester.”

Benson’s grin is practically splitting his face in two. “Are not, you hate everyone and just pretend to be Mr. Charming. Nah, I think Mr. COC suits you better.”

“Well, I certainly hate all of you now,” I mutter, sinking lower in the booth, but even I can’t help but laugh a little. She gets under my skin like no one else. “You are so dead.”

“Afraid you’ll have to get in line,” she says with a big smile.

“Of course there’s a line.”

Something close to panic flashes across her face, and without even checking I can feel her soul react in discomfort. It looks better each day. Still frayed in places, but slowly stitching itself together. She quickly shakes it off, rubbing at her wrist. She buries whatever panic that was and slips right back into teasing us.

I’m curious about what unnerved her, but I know she wouldn’t tell me if I asked, so I push it aside and add it to my mental list of things not to talk about: kiwi (fruit or bird?), that song from the shoe commercial last week, Professor Sinclair, the scar on her eyebrow and whatever’s going on with the not-a-bracelet on her wrist.

We spend the rest of dinner in a haze of laughter and playful jabs. At some point, we all eat our food. The boys don’t let up on us. Their teasing light but constant, with mentions of interrupted soccer practices and my sudden disappearance each night from the face of the earth. But Thea is more than a match for both of them. Soon they’re the ones apologizing to her for keeping me busy with soccer. Thea and Benson’s sarcasm is cut from the same cloth. I’m pretty sure they could talk for hours without saying a single serious thing. And Dylan, he’s putty in her capable hands. Werewolf women aren’t like her.

“Well,” Thea says, shoving Dylan out of the way so she can get up. “I guess I should head to my room. The world’s probably not ready for us to take over just yet. Also, why is combat magic at five?”

I chuckle. “I think the world’s already had enough of us tonight. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not exactly a damsel in distress.”

No, she isn’t.

“Yeah, but it’s a long walk, and I figure you could use the company.”

She laughs softly. “Lead the way, Mr. Charming.”

“Hey, don’t let her get away, man,” Dylan teases with a wide grin.

“Hope you stick around, you make him almost tolerable,” Benson adds with a roguish wink at Thea.

I roll my eyes and throw them a casual one fingered wave as we step toward the door. “Goodnight, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah, see ya, Zair,” Dylan calls out. “Enjoy the walk with Ms. Complete Ass.”

Thea shoots him a playful glare, then turns to me with a smile. “I like them. But I think they’re a bit too quiet. Definitely too serious.” We share a quiet chuckle before stepping out into the cool night air. We walk side by side, the conversation flows naturally, easy. Like it always does between us.

We reach her dorm, and Thea pauses at the door and turns to face me.

“Thanks, Mr. COC. I needed the distraction tonight.” Her words have a playful edge to them.

“No problem. Happy to serve as your personal distraction.”

“I guess I’ll have to handle the rest of my night without you.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” I tell her playfully. “But if you need another distraction, you know where to find me.”

She gives a quiet laugh, and it changes the air. Everything else fades into the background. There’s a pause, thick and full of things neither of us says. I take a step forward, raise my hand, and brush her hair from her face. She doesn’t move away. Her eyes hold mine.

This is it. No more pretending. I cup her cheek and lean in, eyes starting to close—

“I was joking!” she practically shouts, jumping back. “It wasn’t an offer.”

“Wait. No. That’s not what I thought,” I try to explain. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh—” She blinks, like I’ve just spoken in another language.

“I like you,” I tell her. “A lot. That wasn’t me thinking you were offering some throwaway distraction.”