“Hades wasn’t a villain.” Hayes smirks, brushingthe popcorn off his lap. “He may have ruled the Underworld, but he wasn’t evil. Didn’t torture souls or any of that bullshit. Honestly? He was one of the better gods.”
“Sure.” I shake my head. “Just a regular ol’ nice guy in charge of hordes of the dead.”
He doesn’t laugh, just holds my gaze a little too long.
“Hades was steady. Just. Fair,” he says, voice low. “The world needs someone like that.”
I press my lips together to keep from smiling. Hayes is more like his father than he realizes—just as fiercely proud of his Greek heritage, taking any slight against mythology as a personal attack. I don’t really get it, but it’s kind of adorable how worked up he gets.
“Oh yeah? Like how?” I ask, egging him on. Not because I need a mythology lesson but because I know he wants to give it.
“Well, like the story of Orpheus,” he says, his whole posture shifting, energized. “His wife dies, right? So he goes to the Underworld to bring her back. Everyone paints Hades as this heartless monster, but he lets the wife go. He bends the rules because he respects Orpheus’s music… and because he understands what it means to love someone so much you’d risk everything for them. Hades was absolutely crazy about his wife, Persephone.”
There’s something different in his voice. Softer. Like maybe the story means more to him than he’s letting on.
“Yeah, I remember. Your dad told us that one.” Istudy him, something tightening in my chest. “But isn’t it a tragedy? She doesn’t make it out.”
“That’s because they didn’t listen.” Hayes shrugs. “Hades gave them one rule—don’t look back. And what does the guy do? He looks.” He grabs a handful of popcorn and turns back toward the screen. “That’s on them.”
I curl deeper into my seat, drawing the blanket tighter around me as gunshots ring out from the TV. Onscreen, the protagonist is now fleeing from more demons.
“Still. It’s pretty romantic, huh? Going all the way to the Underworld for someone you love.” I sigh, quiet and admittedly a little bitter. “No one would ever do that for me.”
“I would.”
His reply is instant.
No hesitation. No need to think it over. Like it’s something he’s considered before and the answer’s always been yes.
“Really?” My voice barely rises above a whisper. “You’d risk your life for me?”
Something flickers across his face, shy, sweet, and dangerously sincere. “For you? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.” His eyes hold mine in the dark—steady, intense. “If you go, I go.”
For one suspended beat, the world stills. And then?—
“Besides, I gotta keep you alive to help me host all my wild parties, Alligator,” he says, playful now, lobbing one of his mom’s beaded throw pillows at myside. I dodge it, laughing too fast, trying to ignore the way my heart’s still pounding in my chest. “Speaking of—what time are you coming over tonight?”
“Nope. Not happening.”
Hayes is throwing his first college party tonight—a welcome bash for his new frat and the entire football team. Kegs. A DJ. Poolside bartenders. The works.
I know I should want to go. Most girls would kill for an invite, especially from Hayes himself. But me? I’m just not feeling it.
“C’mon, Al,” he says. “I need my best girl by my side. You’re the only one who won’t let me get blackout wasted and end up in some sort of scandal.”
I roll my eyes, half-smiling. “That sounds like ayouproblem.”
“Pretty please?” He grins. “I’m not asking you to shotgun beers or dance on tables. Just show up. Keep me grounded. Help me survive the night.”
“There is absolutely, positively, no way I’m?—”
“Oh yes, you are.” He launches another pillow straight at my face this time. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”
I shriek, swatting it away, and dissolve into laughter as we tumble sideways in a tangle of cushions and limbs, wrestling like we’re twelve again. The dog lets out a startled yelp and scrambles to the other side of the room, getting as far away from us as possible.
“Let go, idiot!” I gasp, breathless from giggling as I jab at his ribs.
He catches my wrist with a fast, practiced grip andtwists it gently behind my back, his movements fast—too fast. Too smooth. And just like that, we’re no longer tangled in a playful mess. I’m pinned helplessly to the floor, and he’s on top of me.
