He arches a brow at me but obliges. While he heads downstairs, I dash into my bedroom and fish a package of balloons out from under my bed, which I’d purchased when he and I were still sabotaging each other. I race into the bathroom, fill one up with water, and return to the window. “Okay, I’m down here,” he says, voice drifting up with a coil of white breath. “What did you need to check?” “This,” I say, letting the bomb drop. It doesn’t land on his head as planned, but splatters all over his shoes. Nicholas jumps back, arms out, staring at the dark spots on his pants. A thrill chases up my
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