“Fuck no.” He looks at me like I’m outside of my mind. “That shit is hilarious.”
Because of course it is.
“Youwouldthink so,” I mumble.
He stops and leans away from me, his expression dripping with silent sarcasm. “You don’t find it abso-fucking-lutely hilarious that some pathetic weak-ass dudebro scampers away from me like I’m the big bad wolf about to blow his whole world down?”
Okay, he got me there. I roll my eyes and let out an epic huff. “Fine. You win. I admit it’s mildly amusing.”
With one tug on my arm, he drags me to him and kisses me, bold as balls, right in the middle of Main Street as if we’re the only two people on earth. When he breaks contact, he smiles down at me, the devil. “Tell me I’m right again. Go on. Say it again.”
I punch him square in the chest as I shove away from him. “Drop dead.”
He slaps his hands over his heart and flutters those ridiculously long lashes. “Only if it means I’ll get to go to heaven with you.”
“You’re too much. You know that, right?” I stomp toward Devil’s Den, which is our first of three stops. The last is Talon—and to be honest, I’m not looking forward to returning to the scene of that mess.
“But you love me anyway, Fizzle.” His statement hangs heavy in the air as he strides up beside me. Last time we usedthatword was the morning he broke my heart. The word is buried beneath the rubble of what we had, and it’s not one I toss about lightly. He wraps his arms around me from behind and walks me forward, his breath tickling my ear. “Relax. I’m teasing. But not really. Or am I?” He nips my neck, and the sharp pain is a warm wave that rolls through me.
“You truly are evil.”
He steps out from behind me and laces his fingers through mine. “Nah. Malice is evil. I’m the clown, remember?”
“Because I’m your girlfriend, are people going to run screaming from me now, too?”
His crooked grin is full of mischief. “Damn right, they will.”
I swing our arms as we walk, childish and carefree. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Fizzle, my girl, there’s only one person on this whole planet who can, literally, ask me anything, and I’ll answer with total honesty, and that’s you.”
I believe him. Unequivocally. Not because he’s on some apology tour but because when we were together, we weretogether. Jester was all in. Body, heart, and soul. That’s what made his betrayal shocking and why it hurt so deeply. I believe him that he’ll be that way again now.
“Actually, about the name Fizzle. Where did you come up with it?”
His laughter is loud, and he lets go of my hand and wraps an arm around me, pulling me in for a hug. He’s touchy-feely, and it’s something else that hasn’t changed. I was afraid once he became an Unholy, he would shed the charming traits that made him…him. I’m thrilled he hasn’t. He rubs his thumb over my knuckles. “Remember the night at Malice’s house when I got, like,superdrunk?”
There were many nights at Malice’s house when everyone but me got super drunk. Malice, who was still known as Anthony back then, would have everyone over almost every weekend. His parents were always off somewhere, and we’d congregate there, where my friends would drink their way through the Morettis’ liquor cabinet. We made most of my favorite memories in that house—including falling in love with Jester over one whole summer.
Our relationship may have started there, but it continued once school began. I even foolishly believed I would marry him.
“Which night? There are too many drunken ones to choose from.”
“The one where I almost vomited on you.”
“Oh,thatone.” The memory slams into my brain in vivid detail. “Didn’t we almost have our first kiss that night?”
“Exactly. It fizzled out before it began. Hence, Fizzle.”
I blink up at him, breathless for a moment as my heart seems to freeze. And then it kickstarts, and oh my God. “That has to be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, so we’re even.” He winks at me as we approach Devil’s Den. A bouncer greets us at the entrance of the black-and-red building. Jester exchanges a bit of small talk with the ginormous man before he ushers me inside Mayhem’s most notorious establishment.
“After you, milady.” Jester makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, motioning for me to enter first.
A rush of cool air hits me as I breeze past him. The hypnotic beat of “#1 Crush” by Garbage pulsates all around us as I step inside. “Do I check my morality at the door, or does it die a quick, but agonizing, death all on its own?”
“Depends on which room you’re in,” Jester says as he steps in after me.
