"Yeah, she's nice." I roll onto my back, staring at the ornate ceiling. "Too nice, maybe. Matt's different around her. All . . ." I wave my hand vaguely, "pressed suits and business jargon. Like he's trying to be someone else."
"I don't think that's Sarah's fault," Ivy says, that gentle defender-of-the-universe tone creeping into her voice. "She told me some stuff today that—"
I scrub a hand over my face. "Can we not talk about any of them? I've hit my rich people quota for the day."
"Okay." There's a pause, and I can practically hear her thinking. "We could watch a movie?"
"God, yes." I prop myself up on my elbows. "But please not another possessed doll thing. My brain can't handle demon Barbies right now."
Her eyes light up in that way that means I'm definitely about to regret everything. "Final Destination."
"Never seen it."
"What?" She sits up straighter, outraged. "How have you . . . never mind. We're watching it. You're about to unlock so many new irrational fears."
"Perfect. Just what I needed after today." I push myself up. "Let me take a shower first."
My stomach drops at the word 'shower,' memories from last night flooding back with brutal clarity. The steam. Her name on my tongue. The way guilt and want twisted together.
Not now. Not fucking now.
I grab clean clothes and sprint to the bathroom, desperate to outrun the echo of last night's weakness. The same marble walls mock me as I crank the water to ice cold, refusing to let my mind wander down that dangerous path again.
Serial killers and possessed dolls. Think about that instead.
When I emerge fifteen minutes later, Ivy's twisted on the couch, trying to make herself small in a way that sets my teeth on edge. Because Ivy doesn't do this. Doesn't create careful distance or polite boundaries. Not with me.
"What the hell are you doing?"
She startles, eyes wide. "Getting ready to watch a movie?"
"From there?" I gesture at how she's contorted herself. "You can barely see the TV, and your neck's going to hate you tomorrow. The bed's right here."
"I'm fine."
"Since when are you 'fine' on the couch instead of sprawled across my space?" The words come out sharper than intended, because something about this careful new distance makes my skin itch.
"I thought—"
"Nope." Before she finishes whatever excuse she's spinning, I cross the room in two strides and scoop her up. She lets out a squeak that has no business being that adorable, as I toss her onto the bed, doing my best to ignore how perfectly she fits against my chest. "There. Your spine owes me one."
"Caleb!" She bounces once, hair wild, cheeks flushed, andfuck—I need to look somewhere else. "You can't just—"
"Watch me." I drop beside her, deliberately sprawling into her territory. "Now hit play before I start wondering why you're suddenly allergic to sitting next to me."
Her mouth opens, closes, opens again. For a second, I think she might tell me what's she thinking. Instead, she snatches the remote and mutters something that sounds a lot like, "bossy asshole."
I grin, pretending my pulse doesn't spike when she finally relaxes beside me. Because this—her in my space, dishing out sarcasm—this is how it's always been. How it should be.
Even if having her this close makes me reckless enough to wonder what other sounds I could pull from her. Ones that aren't indignant squeaks.
"So," I say as the movie starts, trying to ignore how the mattress shifts as she settles beside me, "what kind of fears am I unlocking? Because I already don't trust planes."
"Oh, I know." She grins, but there's something different about it tonight. Softer, almost shy. "That's why I picked second one. No plane crashes in this one."
Something warm spreads through my chest at that. The fact that she remembered; that she thought about it. But before I can examine that feeling too closely, someone dies on screen in what has to be the most elaborate death scene I've ever witnessed. I grab onto the distraction like a lifeline.
"What the actual fuck?" I sit up straighter, which is a mistake because now she's tucked into my side. "That's not even physically possible!"
