This comment had its intended effect—laughter rippled through the group, breaking the tension. James was smiling, content with his achievement. Dee knew that he was doing his best to fill the void Cora had left. He wasn’t a leader; if anything, he was a class clown. But he had a way of defusing a situation and making people feel comfortable, and he would use it to his best advantage.
He was trying to take care of them.
He was a far better person than she’d first thought.
When he went to the fridge to retrieve more drinks, Dee followed him. “Thank you. For doing this, I mean.”
He straightened, a bottle of water in each hand. He set the bottles on the counter, and their sides were already clouded with condensation. “For water?”
“For taking Riley in,” she said. “For trying to make this better, when you didn’t have to.”
He blinked. As if that were a strange statement to make. “It’s what anyone would do,” he said with a half shrug.
No, it wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine her father doing such a thing. Dee had grown up with a desperate need to be self-sufficient, to never rely on anyone. Accepting help made her feel awkward.
She’d never felt that around James, though. Perhaps because he didn’t make a big deal out of it; helping people was just what he did.
They stood in silence for a moment, and then he said, his voice quiet, “I’m worried about Cora.”
She drew in a breath. She had been thinking about Cora, too. “You said she was okay.”
“Shewasokay.” James rubbed at the creases in his forehead. “Physically. Emotionally, well, she was pretty angry. I think—I think she was pretty dead set on keeping the Daemon from making any more of us. She feels responsible somehow. Like seniority gives her the automatic mom role.”
“She’s a good person,” said Dee. “I think that’s why she has more trouble with this than the rest of us. Someone should call her, see if she’s doing all right.”
James frowned. “Did you just call me a bad person?”
“I said ‘us.’ Remember, I count myself among those ranks.”
James laughed quietly. “You’re a good person, Dee.”
“How do you know that?” She looked at him. “I could secretly be hiding a dark side.”
His smile softened. “Because the first time we met, you thought I was homeless and you offered me money—despite the fact you came into that basement intending to ask a demon for money.”
Oh. Well. She had never really thought about it like that.
“It was just going to be for a bus,” she protested. “It wasn’t like I offered you fifty grand or anything.”
“Doesn’t matter.” There was a fondness she hadn’t expected to see in his face. “You offered to help.” His hand came up, fingers tracing her chin.
If she’d had a heart, it would have been hammering.
But she did not pull away—not when he leaned in, not when his breath mingled with hers, not when she felt the gentle touch of his lips.
“I chose this,” she said, very quietly, and kissed him again.
THIRTY-ONE
Much to Dee’s relief, there were a few weeks of quiet.
A sense of normalcy settled over everything; the Daemon made no sudden appearances; there were no more mysterious explosions; Cora got back in touch with them and grudgingly accepted Riley as one of the heartless; Riley and James turned out to be surprisingly comfortable roommates; Dee no longer had to hide her double life from Gremma.
She learned that she liked kissing, the way James’s lips could draw the breath out of her or soothe her into a state so relaxed she could have fallen asleep in his arms.
They went on dates. Real dates, with movie theaters and restaurants. He texted her in between classes and she tried to focus on calculus rather than the fact that he called her “adorible.”
Even the misspelling seemed endearing.
