“Killian,” I whisper-yell. “We’re in your parents' house.” “So? They have sex all the time. They’re probably in the middle of it as we speak.” Gareth throws a pillow at his head. “Thanks for the image, motherfucker.” Killian throws it back. Harder. “How do you think you came to life, sunshine? By shitting rainbows?” He tugs on my hand. “We’re leaving. Now.”
