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“Don’t touch me,” I whisper, drawing the gun up between us. From the corner of my eye, I see Rook tense and get to his feet as well, but Oliver doesn’t even flinch.
“Blair,” he breathes, concern on his face. “Are you okay? Your face—”
“You killed him,” I reply, in just as soft of a tone. “Oliver, youkilledhim.”
“Of course I did.” Is he sorry? He doesn’t seem sorry. He doesn’t seemanythingexcept concerned about me and probably crazy. “Of course I fucking killed him. Hehurtyou, wonder girl.” He reminds me of a kicked puppy again when he says it, but I shake my head and hold the gun between us.
“I don’t know. I don’tknow, I don’t knowwhat you want from me!” I scream, my hand that holds the gun trembling. “You’re crazy. Fuck, you’reinsane!Look what you did to him!” Tears stream down my face as my cheek throbs, and I find it hard to breathe.
Oliver does look, his eyes flicking over Rob’s body like it’s always been there. “He hurt you,” Oliver says again, turning to look at me. “What else would I have done?”
“What if I didn’t want you to kill him? What if I don’t want you here? What if I just wantyouto leave?” I murmur, unsure ofthe words or how much I mean them. Especially right now, when I can barely breathe and feel detached from my own body
Suddenly, Oliver does the most unexpected thing. He steps forward, and grabs my hand so that the gun is pressed against his temple. Before I can do more than whimper, Oliver’s body is pressed to mine, and with his free hand, he reaches out to cup my face.
“Then shoot me,” he whispers, eyes wide and terrifyingly calm. “Shoot me, Blair. If you don’t want me, then you’ll have to kill me. Otherwise, I don’t know if I can ever get over you. I don’t think I’d even want to.”
“Don’t.” I’ve never heard concern in Rook’s voice before. He doesn’t come any closer, but I hear the fear he has for Oliver, just as surely as I know I never would’ve shot him.
“I can’t,” I say, tears cascading down my face. “I can’t. I’m not going to—”
“I know you won’t,” he purrs, eyes still wide and full of a kind of madness that threatens to overwhelm me. “But if you don’t shoot me, then you’re telling me that I still have the chance to make youours.”
It isn’t the time for love declarations, if this is what that is. My vision is tunneling, though when I blink, I see double of him. My grip on the gun slackens, and Oliver takes it from me to hand it off to Rook before closing back in against me to brush his lips to mine.
“I think I’m going to pass out,” I tell him, nausea rolling in my stomach. “I-I don’t know why, I just—”
“That’s okay, Blair,” he promises, hand cradling my face gently. “You can go on and fall. I’ll catch you, wonder girl. I’ll help you, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know, baby, I know.” The madness is fading, leaving the sweet, endearing boy my heart can’t help but love. “But by theway you’re barely breathing and can’t focus, I don’t think you have much of a choice.” He’s so gentle. So kind, but I hate that he’s right.
My knees buckle and I fall forward, right into his waiting arms.
Chapter 29
“What do you mean you don’t know what her favorite food is?” The disappointment in Rook’s tone is palpable, even when consciousness is still a question for me. “You’ve been trying to get to know her for months.”
“She likes breakfast foods.” Oliver sounds defensive, and a little embarrassed. “I’msorrythat I can’t remember more than that.”
“Whatever.” Rook lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll make… something. French toast, I guess. Bacon, eggs. You need to eat too, so I know it won’t go to waste…” His words trail off as the dark waters of sleep claim me once again, though this time not nearly so violently.
“Hey, wonder girl.” The soft voice in my ear is unmistakably Oliver’s, but it’s the coldness against my cheek that yanks me out of the ocean of sleep and makes me groan in dislike. “I know, baby. But your cheek and jaw are swollen. I just want to make you feel better. What do you prefer, Tylenol or ibuprofen?” He’sso kind. So fucking sweet, it’s teeth-rotting, and I want to hit him.
Instead, I crack open my eyes, not surprised to see Oliver right in front of my face and holding an ice pack to my cheek.
“Hi,” he greets, his smile widening. “How do you feel?”
“Like a B minus student who just got kidnapped by a serial killer and her asshole professor,” I mumble, unable to stop the rather candid word vomit from escaping my lips.
Oliver snorts, and flicks his eyes toward where I presume Rook is standing. “He really gave you a Bminus? That’s criminal.”
“Literally deserving of jail time,” I agree lightly, still trying to focus on his face. It’s getting easier, even as my stomach lets me know that it’s prepared to cannibalize itself for the greater good. Slowly, I sit up, not complaining when Oliver helps me to do so.
Rook strides by, tossing me a couple of pieces of clothing as he does. “We’re burning what you have on,” he informs me, eyes level.
I tense, shaking my head. “No way. I’m out of hoodies,” I protest, meaning that I’m out ofcleanhoodies. “And I really like this shirt.”
