“Gay purple drink?” he asks, raising his eyebrows with exaggerated hopefulness.
I roll my eyes, but nod. “Sure.”
He springs into action, no hint of the vacant, disconcerted mood I sensed when I first sat down.
“So, what brings you in today, my lovely little Starfire?”
I shrug, glancing around at the empty bar and club. I suppose that’s to be expected, as it’s fairly early on a weekday. My fears are still hounding me, intruding thoughts reminding me how dangerous it is to be seen with him, that I’m going to get him hurt or worse. I take a gulp of the shimmering drink and immediately regret it; whatever is in this is more suited to sipping than chugging.
“Can I get a shot?” I ask.
Ro eyes me, then nods once. He reaches beneath the bar and fills a shot glass without breaking eye contact. Why is that so hot?
I look down at the tiny glass, willing my heart to steady, then throw it back. Ro’s eyes are still on me. I can feel them, but I’m avoiding meeting his gaze. I guess I’ve got some demons of my own I’m battling with.
“What’s going on, Lor?”
I shake my head as my throat closes. I’m unable to get a single word out as my emotions surge and—to my horror—my eyes prickle as my sight turns blurry.
“Sweetheart,” Ro murmurs, quickly rounding the bar to my side. He takes my hand and pulls me from the stool, gesturing at someone with his other arm. I fix my gaze on my feet as I let him lead me to a back room.
As soon as the door shuts, he envelopes me in his arms. I try to turn away, but he easily tucks my head under his chin and sways us side to side. My body slowly relaxes into his as his steady pulse thumps beside my ear.
I don’t know the last time I was held and comforted like this, if I ever was. Did my mom ever care enough to? Did she even notice when I needed it?
“You can tell me anything,” Ro says, his voice soft as he lays his cheek on the top of my head.
It’s hard to swallow, hard to breathe, but I force myself to do both. I have no idea where it comes from, but at some point, part of me must have decided to trust this demon.
“I’m afraid,” I whisper.
Ro tenses for half a second, then his muscles relax against me again.
“Afraid of what?” His voice is careful, perfectly neutral.
“Being a star-chaser… It means I’m going to lose my mind. I don’t know when. I don’t know how fast. But it’s the one thing I know to be true. All star-chasers go mad, or well, I don’t think that’s the right way to say it—going mad—whatever you want to call it.”
I chance a glance up at him, seeing his brows furrowed in confusion. Like he was expecting something else. I look away to give myself the courage to continue.
“My life is dangerous, but even if it wasn’t, it still wouldn’t be fair to make you part of it. You’d have to deal with my madness, and there’d be nothing you could do about it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, Ro. It would be awful for us both.”
My voice trails off into a dejected whisper, but he replies immediately. “That’s not true at all.”
I stiffen. How could he say it’s not true? It’s the only thing I have no doubt of. One of two truths I’ve been told my entire life. The only thing I’ve fully accepted—all star-chasers go mad.
“You might lose your mind, go insane, whatever. I don’t know what the right thing to call it is either. But you don’t get to tell me what’s fair. You don’t get to decide for me what I want, or what’s best for me.”
I jerk back to stare at him as my thoughts spin. His face is open, raw with determination and so much passion it almost makes me take a step away.
“You think I can’t handle what you might someday be like?” He scoffs, a wry tilt to his lips. “Lor, have you met me? I’m the literal definition of crazy. Wild. Weird. Wacky. Out of control demon, right here.”
He points his thumb at his chest with the last sentence and I blink, trying to catch up.
“If anything,” he continues, “that makes us abettermatch.”
He finally pauses—boy has some lungs on him—and gives my head a chance to process everything he just said.
“A… What?”
