“Bottle’s empty.”
He got up and crossed the room to select a second bottle.
As he walked back toward me, I said, “We’re going to get wasted.”
“That’s the plan. At least,myplan.”
“I’m down with your plan.” I stood, and the room spun a little. I was already well on my way to inebriation.
I grabbed a piece of my orb to fashion a corkscrew again, then handed it over to Remo. Once he’d yanked the cork out, I chucked the gob of dust back toward the orb and sat back down, bumping my tailbone against the wall because I’d miscalculated the drop.
Forgeton my way, I’d reached my destination.
Remo tipped the bottle to his mouth and drank. And then drank some more. When he sat back next to me, he said, “Scared and relieved.”
“What?”
“How I felt the day you got stung by adile.”
It took my befuddled brain a full minute to compute what he was admitting. “Why?”
“Because, Amara . . .” Was that a blush snaking over his jaw again? Instead of teasing him about it, I waited to see if he would add anything.Because, Amara,wasn’t much of an explanation. “What good is a hero without a villain?”
My eyes widened, and then I blinked. And then I laughed. “I’m your villain?” In between waves of hilarity, I said, “What a villain I make. Scared of ghosts and a complete klutz on stairs.” I wiped the corners of my eyes and elbowed him with my good arm. “No one would read that story.”
Although he hadn’t even cracked a smile, his eyes glittered. Even his lips seemed to shine. It was probably all the wine I’d ingested that made his features all glowy. When I lifted my eyes back to his, I found him staring at me with a disquieting intensity.
My breathing hitched, scattering too much oxygen throughout my body. My head felt light, my chest too. And then all of me felt too tight. I snatched the wine from his hands and drank. “Will I still be the villain in your story if we get out of here?”
“When.”
I frowned.
“Whenwe get out of here. Notif. And if you stop being the villain, then I stop being a hero.”
“You saved the villain so many times that you’ve earned hero-status for life.”
“Yeah?” His voice sounded funny, all at once hoarse and slightly high-pitched. He’d apparently had too much wine also.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You might’ve even become the villain’s hero.” I did not just say that. I clamped my lids shut, wishing I could incinerate the words. “That was the wine talking.”
His shoulder shifted, and I thought he was pushing me away, but then his arm wound around my back, and his hand settled gently on my achy bicep. I must’ve grimaced, because he slid his fingers to my ribs. “Here I was hoping to ply you with alcohol to get a second free peepshow; instead I earn hero-status for life. Prison isn’t half-bad.”
I smiled, his humor deflating my ballooning mortification. “Oh come on, it’s awful, but your cellmateispretty awesome.”
He chuckled, and the vibrations combined with his warmth made me sink into him a little more. “She’s a handful, though.”
After several breaths, I said, “Good thing you have such big hands.” Wine-brain made my thoughts very slippery.
Said big hand gripped my side a little harder, and then Remo propped his bristly jaw on top of my forehead. “We should try to sleep.”
“Yeah. We should.” If only to stop spouting humiliating, drunken declarations. Big hands? Seriously, Amara?
Even though I didn’t think I’d sleep, I’d obviously underestimated my level of exhaustion, because I fell down that rabbit hole as swiftly as I’d fallen through the portal.
20
The Wreckage
