Warm Up (Villains, #0.5)

by V.E. Schwab

but the joke was too careful, too light, like she knew they were on cracking ice. The smallest misstep would send them under.

A small, conscious effort. The line between accidental and intentional meant everything.

He’d fallen so far, and the climb back up had been slow, agonizingly so—some days inching forward, others slipping back—but little by little, he’d fought his way back to the summit. He could see a life from here. Not his life, that was gone, but a life. It was time for a fresh start.

An awful, dull ache spread through him as he said things—cruel things—any and everything he could think of to push her away. A few of them were truths. Most of them were lies.