Phantom tenses next to me.
“Come on,” I whisper in their ear. “It’ll be fun. Just for an hour, then we can leave.”
“One hour,” they confirm, letting me pull them in the direction of the music.
I should’ve guessed it, having seen how smoothly Phantom moves to music while painting, but it still takes me by surprise. Phantom is amarvelousdancer. As they danced to the music tonight, twirling me around and around, I got a glimpse of a completely different side of them. A languid, carefree side that made my heart want to burst.
My excitement wanes though, as the hour passes us by and Phantom looks to me expectantly.
“We’re heading out,” I say to the others.
“How are you getting home?” Iris asks, worry lines denting her brow. “I’m spending the night at Claire’s tonight.”
“I’ll walk her home,” Phantom replies stoutly while wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.
“Thanks, Daemon,” Iris drawls with mischief glinting in her eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I call back to them as Phantom steers me away, heading toward the front door.
We grab our coats from the entryway and head out into the cold. Phantom wraps their arm around me once more, and I sigh as I lean into their warm embrace. With my body still humming from the booze, I forget about everything except this feeling of rightness.
And the closer we get to the dorm, the more it feels like we’re walking toward a precipice. Toward a point of no return.
26Stay
You’re a lovely dancer,” I say with a giggle as I unlock the door to my dorm room and we enter.
“My mother taught me,” they reply dryly, mentioning their mother for the very first time, I realize. “She was a competitive dancer when she was young.”
“Really?” I ask, my interest overcoming my better judgment. “What does she do now?”
“She’s an artist—sculpting primarily,” they murmur, averting their gaze.
“Just like Iris.”
They nod as they stand awkwardly by the door with their coat still on.
“Would you stay for a while?” I ask, still feeling emboldened from the events of the night and the alcohol in my veins.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” I ask.
Their eyes flit to the picture frame on my bedside table. The picture of me and Noah.
My stomach twists and I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. Is that look in Phantom’s eyes the answer to the question I’ve been silently asking for days? Does Phantomfeel the same way about me that I do about them? Because, if so, then Phantom’s right. If they stay here any longer, we might not be friends when they leave. We might be more. Or nothing at all. The question is, do I want things to stay the same between us? Or do I want them to change?
“What do you want?” I ask Phantom, dropping to sit on the edge of my bed.
“What do you mean?” they counter, moving to lean against the wall.
I capture them in my gaze, refusing to let them go until I hear the truth. “With us? What is this to you?”
Phantom suddenly looks afraid. “I’ve told you. You’re my best friend.”
“And you’re mine.”
“So?” they ask with furrowed brows and parted lips beneath their mask.
