Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)

by Rainbow Rowell

“This is what people are talking about when they talk about make-up sex, isn’t it?” I choke on my tea. “Not exactly.” He laughs at me. “No, I mean . . . It’s like when you think you’re going to die—like, you’re sure you’re about to lose your head—and then, at the last minute, you don’t. The other guy bites it instead. And it feels like you cheated somehow—” “Knowing you, you probably did cheat somehow.” “—but you’re still alive, and everything feels so amazing and, like, urgent. Like, you can’t believe how lucky you are to breathe, and you just want to breathe all the air at once.” “Most people,” I muse, “have more experience with makeup sex than with near beheadings.” He laughs. “Well, I get it now. The whole concept.” He’s holding his mug with both hands. I am, too. I lean against his shoulder, looking down at my tea, attempting to appear casual. “It could always be like this.” “I don’t think so,” Snow says. “This is ‘I nearly lost my head and then I didn’t’ euphoria.” “Nah.” I brush the outside of my knuckles against his. “I can promise you ‘this’ on a regular basis. A hot shower and lukewarm tea? Ham sandwiches in bed? This is table stakes, Snow.” He catches my fingers in his. “Baz . . .” His voice drops to a near whisper. “I don’t know what happens next.” I shake my head. “Me neither.” He pulls at my fingers. His eyebrows are down. Like he’s thinking hard, or trying not to. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “we just go along until I feel like running away. And then I...