He said nothing in response, so I tried again. “Can’t sleep?”
“No,” he said sullenly, coming into view with the silver moonlight reflecting off his curls and kissing the apples of his cheeks like some beautiful gothic painting. His ringlets were tousled, and his pretty lips made the shape of that scowly pout he saved just for me.
“Want to come up here with me?” I scooted to one side to make room for him. He climbed up the rocks, refusing the hand I offered and slotted in right beside me. His body was warm, and I remembered earlier that day when we’d wrestled in the water, not only the smoothness of his skin but his strength of spirit in his determination to drown me.
“Are we still fighting?” I asked.
“Yes. Your group name is now the Assholes, your mascot is a huge anus, and your team color is poop brown.”
I burst into laughter, the deep belly kind that rumbled up through my diaphragm and poured out unexpectedly. Kitten’s lips quirked, trying to hide a grin. When that bit of madness passed, I decided to take Artemis’s advice, and I said to him with more composure, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Well, you did.”
“You shouldn’t have lied.”
“If you’d known all of that, would you still have wanted me in your crew?” His heart-shaped face gazed up at me in earnestness.
I didn’t want you in our crew, I was about to say, but that would be a lie, and besides that, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “We all have our weaknesses. And our strengths. The goal of the pack is to balance each other out. Macon is strong. He carries shit. Gizmo is a whiz with technology. He fixes shit. I’m good with weapons, so I kill shit. Artemis hunts. You feel me?”
“What does Teresa do?”
“She cooks and makes camp and keeps things organized.”
“And what about me?”
You irritate the shit out of me, I almost said, but again, I refrained. “You’re pretty useless,” I teased, and he elbowed me in the ribs. “You start fights and feed your damned cat table scraps and take advantage of people with only one leg.”
This at least earned me a grin.
“But you are fun to have around,” I said and poked his side.
“You should tie me to a tree,” he said glumly.
“I’m sure you’ll be useful one day.” I reached out and ruffled his hair. He batted my hand away and ducked his head.
“Can I have a puff of that?” he said, eyeing my cigarette.
I spat out a piece of tobacco that ended up on my tongue. “Fuck no, you asthmatic little shit. I’m not hauling your ass around when you pass out because you can’t breathe. What is wrong with you?”
“I just want to try it.”
“Try something else. Cocaine or amphetamines. Not carcinogenic substances.”
“Is that what’s in the little baggie?” he asked, looking excited.
“No, those are painkillers. I crush them and mix it with the tobacco for my sleepytime cigarettes.”
“You need them to fall asleep?”
“Yeah, and to stay asleep. Nightmares.” I tapped my temple. “See, wouldn’t you rather be hard of hearing than mentally disturbed?”
“I don’t really have a choice.”
“No, none of us do.”
We sat in silence for a spell. The owl hooted and Kitten startled, grabbing hold of my arm. I didn’t mind it.
“What was that?” he asked.
