Icebreaker

by A.L. Graziadei

There’s a flash of something hot and dangerous through my chest. I feel my eyes widen, my heart stutter. Jaysen makes being violently pissed off look good.

I brush my teeth slowly, glancing toward the door every few seconds. As if he’s gonna burst in here at any moment and shove me up onto the counter and make out with me and my mouthful of toothpaste.

Cauler doesn’t say anything. But he smiles. And, oh, I am so fucked.

“You looked like a Chihuahua taking on a mastiff,” Cauler says. “Like an angry little puppy. Adorable.”

“Same page?” he asks softly, a slight tremor in his voice. “Same page,” I almost whisper.

He pushes me down onto my mattress while Twitter blows up about our rivalry and how much we despise each other.