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“Don’t ever fucking touch me again,” he growls. “You’ll lose more than just your hands, rabbit.”

Rabbit?

I squint over at him, but it’s like I don’t exist. He doesn’t turn around as he steps over the corpse and disappears around the corner in the hall.

I thought…

I thought we were friends.

What just happened…?

He reached out to me first. We’ve been talking for so long. The Polaroids—they’re the only thing I look forward to anymore.

Tears cloud my eyes, but it’s not because of the pain in my throat, or my nose, or my head.

He’s my favorite person in the world.

Why am I just a rabbit?

Chapter 9

Beckett

As soon as I get to my car, I rip off the ski mask and toss it into the passenger seat. I don’t turn the car on—I don’t move my hands off the wheel.

I don’t move at all.

My back tooth cracks when I can’t unclench my jaw, and I grip the wheel until the leather squeaks under my gloves. Sweat slides down my temples and behind my ears, painting my hair to my face. I can feel every single strand stuck to my cheeks, my nose—I’m losing it.

I tear off my gloves and press my hands into my eyes until my lungs remember how to function properly.

I don’t know the Psycho Crayon—I don’t know what he was trying to do back there. But it felt like I was cheating on someone.

Who the hell am I cheating on, exactly?

The last time I checked…

I was single.

Very, very single.

And apparently, according to my ridiculous body—

Horny.

Dropping my hands, I fold in half over the steering wheel.

I’m not upset about him stealing my art, either. I didn’t know skulls reacted that way to heat until tonight. The whole thing was fascinating to watch.

Dammit, I don’t know. That’s the problem. We don’t come with a manual when we pop out of the womb. Though it’d be nice if we did.

I wish there were a stop button for automatic responses. Just a quick flip of the switch to stay focused and organized when it counts. I’d pay good money to see that in my lifetime.

I sigh and push myself upright, jamming the key into the ignition.

The only thing I want to do right now is go home, crawl into bed, and talk to Ira until we fall asleep.

My midterm can wait until tomorrow.