Realization dawns on me.
“You asshole,” I say. “You used your powers.”
Ender shrugs and turns the key. The truck roars to life.
“Cold?” he asks, already fiddling with the heater. “Youmustbe wearing that scrap of fabric.”
He reaches back and drops his jacket onto my lap.
I glare at it, refusing to put it on. Still, the weight of it warms my bare thighs. The heater turns on, and warm air sweeps up my skin, brushing my face.
I turn toward the window, presenting him with my back. The silence feels oppressive, but I refuse to be the first one to break it.
“What do you see in him?” Ender asks. “Sullivan, that is.”
I sigh deeply. Here we go again.
“He’s thoughtful. Look at what he risked to make me and my sister happy,” I say. “Nobody does things like that. Not for us. Not since our mother died.”
I hate that I’m telling him this. He doesn’t deserve the truth. He doesn’t deserve anything.
His knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” he says.
“Because you’re not my friend,” I say slowly. “Why would you bother to care?”
A fleeting emotion crosses his eyes.
“You forget that we decided to keep this relationship platonic,” I say. “That means you can’t demand that I kiss you. Why would you even ask me that?”
I’m glad that he came to his senses, but I’m still confused as to why he would want to ruin everything for a few minutes of satisfaction. None of my friends know about the swap, but the second Ender kisses me in public, it would dissolve my entire ruse.
I don’t know how I’d even begin to lie my way out of that without confessing the entire truth. He almost put me in a terrible position. I’d have to either confess that I swapped places with my sister or let them assume that I was having some sordid affair with her husband.
He exhales loudly, tipping his head back, and dragging a hand through his hair like the answer physically hurts him.
The car comes to a screeching halt on the side of the road.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” Ender snaps. “I think about youeveryhour of the day. And it doesn’t matter how many times I remind myself that you are off-limits—that there is no place for distractions in my life, that you are the antithesis of everything I’ve ever believed in. Because the second your eyes meet mine, I can’t think of a single reason why I should deny myself the one thing I am incapable of resisting.”
My heart slams against my ribs. This can’t be real. I must have drunk more than I thought. Because Ender Vale does not say things like this. Especially, to the girl he claims to hate. It feels like I’m trapped in a dream. Everything is hazy and milky and completely untrue.
His voice is despairing and hollow when he next speaks.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks roughly.
Pain, torment, and anguish flit across his bright-blue eyes like a storm tearing across the summer sky. Why does he look so beautiful when he suffers? Why does it draw me to him like a moth to a flame?
“I tried to erase it, to drown it, to destroy it, but it refuses to be silenced, it demands to be heard,” Ender says. “And won’t you hear it?”
“Why are you telling me this?” I whisper. “We said we wouldn’t do this.”
“You’re killing me, Warrick,” he says. “Slowly. Like poison. And I can’t save myself.”
Panic curls in my chest like smoke. I don’t know how to answer him. The silence drags on for so long, it grows teeth.
“You probably won’t remember this tomorrow,” he mutters, “which is for the best.”
