I fold my arms protectively across my tight and tattered purple college tee, a lie on the tip of my tongue that I just can’t dislodge.
Margie exchanges a look with Avery. “No comment,” he says, holding his hands up as he slips by me into my apartment. But then he quickly adds, “Except to say that those are not usually hanging out so close to your chin.”
“Help me take down this wall already.”
Avery and Jack exchange pleasantries. Avery spares a single amused glance at Jack’s razzle-dazzle but remains mercifully silent about it.
Margie is not so tactful.
“Shine bright like a diamond,” she murmurs when she sees him, a laugh in her voice. Jack gives her a withering look.
Following Jack’s lead, Avery dives in to help with the wall. Margie carts bags of garbage down to the basement, clomping down the hall in a borrowed pair of my sneakers. I never once look in Jack’s direction, which is immensely satisfying. The work is going so well that I have to force myself not to remark on it for fear of jinxing it.
And then it’s jinxed.
Jack’s buzzer goes off, and a few minutes later, Anna floats into his apartment like a pollen-riddled spring breeze. “Why do you look like you’re about to take me to Neverland, Jay?” she asks.
Margie’s laugh rings out all the way from the stairwell.
“Anna, hi!” Avery calls out.
She beams when she sees him and scuttles over to my side of The Wall to reach him. She pauses when Margie reenters the apartment, recognizing her immediately. “Oh. My. Lord. You’re Linkletter! I watch you! My fiancé Seth loves your show.”
Margie arches an eyebrow. “Not you, though?”
“No! I do, too, totally—”
“I’m teasing. I’m Margie. Nice to meet you. You must be Jack’s sister.” She glances at Avery. “Heard too much about you.”
She says it so quickly and casually that only I pick up on the “too.” She loves doing that—subverting what people expect to hear. I once heard her tell some difficult restaurant patrons at the place she worked in college, “Fuck you very much,” with a tremendous smile and wave as they were leaving. The guests thanked her and smiled back. She said it was a test of her acting.
“Are you going to be at Avery’s parents’ anniversary party?” Anna asks Margie. I frown. Why is she talking about the party?At Margie’s nod, Anna claps a hand over her mouth. “Seth is going to be so upset he can’t come.”
“He’s not coming?” Avery’s expression is as far removed from disappointed as it can possibly be. He must realize that because he quickly blanks his face.
I, on the other hand, want to stamp my feet and scream. My worlds are colliding. What the hell is Avery doing inviting the enemy’s sister? I mean, Jack feels less like the enemy than before, but he’s plotting my downfall! That’s enemy-adjacent, at least. I drop down heavily onto the sofa.
“No, he has a thing with his old high school buddies. But Jack agreed to be my plus-one.”
All eyes snap to Jack, but he only has eyes for me. The demon is smiling.Smiling. He knows I’m irked. I don’t want him there. I may throw him off the ship. Launch a cannon or whatever at his head. He doesn’t want to be around me and defunct museum weapons.
“Can’t wait to come and celebrate true love,” Jack says, bending to rest his arms on the back of my couch just behind me. And then he reaches deep into my cushions and pulls outPirate Duke. Motherfucker. “We’re all just looking for a love like this, amirite?” He stands tall and waves the book and its tawdry cover around.
My cheeks are fire hose–worthy, heated to a fever. The woman on the cover has a shredded pirate’s flag draped strategically over her privates, one leg wrapped around the Pirate Duke’s waist as she arches toward him. The eponymous hero looms over her on a bed, his lips pressed against her cleavage.
Jack opens the book. “‘One hand palms the globe of her—’ Holy shit, this is explicit.”
I leap up, round the sofa, and snatch it from his hands with a glare. Margie’s snort barely penetrates my anger. “The only thing you’re in love with is yourself,” I hiss.
Jack’s gaze flits over the room, taking in the fact that everyone else is pretending to be engaged in conversation. He leans forward, perilously close, and pins me with his gaze. “Do you blame me? There’s so much to love.”
I roll my eyes, and his stupid fucking dimple brackets appear. “This wasn’t your punishment, by the way,” he says in a purr that slides up my spine.
I stretch up, until there’s nothing but a breath between my lips and his. I see his gaze slip, a darting look as I tug my bottom lip in with my teeth. “Will I enjoy this punishment?” I whisper.
His eyes widen and dilate, gray overtaken by black. His chest expands with his surprised breath. “That can be arranged.”
My pulse is a battering ram. I’ve been sucked into a spell of my own making. Almost. I straighten and force out a laugh. “I could die of cringe for you. Guys are so predictable.”
