I met his gaze, not expecting a vision this time and not getting one. I was careful to keep my features blank. Seconds...minutes...maybe hours passed...but he didn’t do what I needed him to do and leave.
Please leave.
Then something happened. The same something that happened every time we were together.
The air around us came to life, thickening with awareness. My skin prickled in the most delicious way.
I didn’t like it—because I liked it so much.
He must have felt it, too, because he looked away.
Thankful for the reprieve, I scrutinized his body language. His fingers were next to mine, twitching on the arms of the chair, as if he wanted to reach for me but was fighting the impulse.
Did he want to reach for me?
My gaze lifted of its own accord.
He was staring at me again. Only he was staring far more intently, that violet gaze drilling into me, trying to burrow past skin and into soul to search for answers I didn’t have.
“I didn’t need the dark knight to race to my rescue,” I sniped. “I’m fine.”
“Ali,” he said on a sigh. “You’re not fine. Kat said you couldn’t breathe.”
“As you can see, I’m over it.” I was proud of my seeming calm. “You can leave now.”
Concern darkened his features, poking at my anger.
He had no right to feel concern for me.
“Why couldn’t you breathe, Ali?”
“Does it really matter?”
At last he reached up, intending to cup my cheeks the way he used to. Just before contact he caught himself. His hands returned to the arms of the chair, caging me in, making me shiver—and hate myself. “Let Ankh run a few tests.”
“No.” I had been wrong to think I could face Cole today. It was too soon. Especially if he was going to be nice.
Why was he being nice?
“We’re done here.” I pushed him out of the way and stood on shaky legs. Frosty was scrubbing his knuckles into Kat’s scalp while she laughed and batted at his arm. Bronx and Reeve were in the midst of a glaring contest.
“We have more to do,” I said to the girls. Then I marched away without another word, my coat and bags hanging at my sides.
Both Kat and Reeve followed me, ditching the boys without hesitation.
“So...did you know that sleeping with twelve different guys is the same thing as sleeping with, like, four thousand?” Kat asked, breaking the silence, the tension.
I could have hugged her. She hadn’t mentioned our guys, and wasn’t going to. She was trying to distract me.
“No way,” Reeve said.
We cleared the doors of the mall, entered the coolness of the day. I pulled on the coat.
Kat nodded. “I crunched the numbers myself. I’m eighty-three percent sure that I’m one hundred percent sure that my math is perfect. See, if you sleep with a guy, you’ve then been with everyone he’s been with and everyone his other partners have been with and everyone their partners have been with. It goes on and on.” She held up one finger. “Frosty is my only, but he’s been with others and I’m sure they’ve been with others, so, I’m guessing I’ve been with at least fifty people—is there a scarlet letter on my forehead?”
“I wonder how many girls Bronx has gotten into bed,” Reeve muttered.
“Bronx? Did you say Bronx? Because I could have sworn you told me you’re over him and seeing someone else,” Kat quipped.
Reeve pursed her lips.
I took a breath—held it. Exhaled, slowly. Mist formed in front of my face. My first real post-breakup encounter with Cole was now history. I’d survived with the tiniest shred of dignity, and that was more than I’d expected. I was going to be okay.
A twentysomething guy stepped into our path, blocking us. We drew to a halt as he said, “Hey, pretty girl,” with a wide, toothy grin aimed at Kat. “How about some company, hmm?”
Another guy pressed into his side. He eyed Reeve up and down as if she were a stick of cotton candy and he was dying from a sweet tooth.
“No, thanks,” she said, and tried to inch around him.
He moved with her, continuing to block her. “Wait. You don’t want to go until we’ve exchanged numbers, do you?”
The other guy leaned down to sniff Kat’s neck. “My own personal brand of crack, right there.”
“Quoting romance novels?” Scowling, she leaned back, out of reach. “Lesson of the day—you don’t smell a girl until she gives you permission. Ever. It makes you a creeper.”
He pouted.
I doubted the two were dangerous. I actually thought they were going for sexy and charming rather than disturbing. And maybe I could have tried to reach a verbal resolution with them. Maybe not.
Despite being “okay,” anger still pulled at an already thin tether.
Nope. Wrong. The tether snapped.
I jabbed my palm into his nose, and cartilage shattered. Blood spurted. Cursing, his friend grabbed hold of my arm. To stop me from running—unnecessary—or to stop me from another attack, I wasn’t sure. I only knew he’d made a mistake. I clamped onto his wrist and twisted with all of my strength, forcing his body to turn with the motion to save the bone from breaking.
Before he could lurch free, I kicked the back of his knee, sending him to the ground. An elbow to the temple finished him off, and he collapsed the rest of the way. He sprawled on the concrete, motionless.
Satisfaction filled me, followed swiftly by guilt.
“Come on,” I said. I tugged the lapels of my coat closer as I walked away.
“That was both cool and frightening,” Kat said with a shudder, keeping pace with me. “I don’t know whether to pat you on the back or run and hide.”
“Where did you learn how to do that?” Reeve asked, her gaze darting back to the boys.
“Col— Around.” My gaze landed on the tattoo shop across the street. Bright red letters—TATTIE’S INK—flashed on and off.
I stopped.
The girls backtracked.
“I want one,” I found myself saying.
“One what?” Kat asked.
“A tattoo.” The slayers marked themselves with the names of the loved ones they’d lost in the war against the zombies, or symbols to represent them. I had none, yet I’d lost my parents, my sister and my grandfather.
Bad Ali.
“I want one,” I said again, more confident this time. I headed across the street.
The girls followed after me.
“What are you going to get?” Kat asked, clapping happily. “A skull and crossbones? Snake fangs dripping with blood? A unicorn?”