“Can I ask you something personal?” He looks down at me from behind his arm.
“It's never stopped you before.” My cheeks sting when I smile. “I want to say yes, but then I kind of want to say no.” Because aside from superficial conversations, the good times and the tense moments we've shared, we've never dived deep into either of our personal lives. As if we accepted each other for who we were and didn't need to know more about one another to decide whether we were worth it. It took the drama out of our friendship, the ridiculous standard that so many hold against their closest friends. Asher and I never had that because we took each other for exactly as the other was, nothing more and nothing less.
“Why kind of? Just tell me yes or no.” His collar drops, revealing his lips. “I know we've never spoken about our lives away from one another.”
His words throw me off a little, mainly because I didn't expect him to say it out loud.
A gust of wind curls around the nape of my neck and I shiver. “Because are you going to ask me what my favorite color is, or are you going to ask me something more complex like, 'Are you happy?'”
Clearing his throat, he angles himself back a little, yet turning his body into mine. He's close enough that I can feel heat emanating through my clothes.
“I know you're not happy, Venom,” he whispers.
Trees line the steep pathways in shadows, offering a false sense of safety.
“I don't like the word 'happy'. I think it holds too many expectations. Satisfied? Not quite. Placid? Yes. Happy?” I turn to him. “Are you happy?” I've not seen him touch her as much as she has him.
As much as he had me.
A deep chuckle leaves him. “I think you, of all people, might understand that sometimes, happiness doesn't have shit to do with it.” His words ring out in my head seconds later. “Do you want to be?”
No one has ever asked me that. No one. Mainly because it's irrelevant, and I've never been around people who don't already know me.
The sound of decks cutting through snow sounds in the distance.
“No,” I say softly. “I don't think that's in my cards for this lifetime.”
“Ivy.” Ivy, not Venom. “Look at me.”
I tilt my head back toward the stars. “Kind of don't want to.”
“Why?” His attention burns me from the inside out. Focus on the stars.
“Because I kind of don't like you right now.”
I turn to face him despite my words, and something primal stirs beneath his composure.
He pushes up from the ground and places his hand out to me. I take it without a word and head back down the track. He could ditch me in a heartbeat, carve down the slope and vanish. Instead he shadows my line with every lazy arc. The shadows of Veilarath are exactly like the secrets it keeps. Dark, and always have you looking over your shoulder.
I come to a stop at the bottom of the house, where the entrance to the master “basement” is. Every second that passes, his presence crushes the air from my lungs harder than it did a heartbeat ago.
Unclipping my boots, I lower onto the concrete pavement and shove them both off my feet. From here, the basement looks like plain black glass hidden amongst a pillow of snow.
His feet carry him toward the window, pushing it open to dump his things. He doesn't turn, keeping his back to me. “Did you ever find out which of your distant family members left you this house?”
I remove my goggles and beanie, roughing up my hair. “Nope. Still trying to figure that out.”
“You don't know your family?” He buries his hands in his pockets but doesn't turn to me. If it were lighter out, I could see his expressions clearly, but since there's nothing but the ambience of the pool's neon, it's not enough.
“I do.” I make my way to where he stands until both our shadows become obvious in the window. He has to be a foot taller than me, and I'm not necessarily short.
“My father is in business but can never stay put long enough for me to catch him, and my mother died when I was a child.”
He nods slowly, shifting around to face me. It's the second time I've noticed him look at me this way, as if seeking answers that don't exist.
The corners of his lips turn up a little. “Hungry?”
My heart flutters. Fucking flutters. I've become a cliché.
