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“I’m always… aware,” he tried to claim. I couldn’t help it, I whispered, “Even when you’re snoring?”
My grandma used to say that I’d been born with a hint of intuition; then my grandpa would claim I’d gotten it from his side. He never really talked about his family, but when he did, he always brought up his own grandmother. According to him, she had known things that were going to happen before they did.
I was pretty sure, at this point, I could push him over and run if it came down to it. Not that I would. Unless it was life or death. Then I’d be seeing his ass later.
I just looked at him, my colossal imaginary balls heavy.
It felt awkward to call him that after I’d spoon-fed him and called him a butthole to his face. If that wasn’t a solid foundation for friendship, what was?
I would have done some sketchy shit for a Klondike bar right about then.
“If I wanted a partner, I could find a partner,” he grumbled.
“I’m sure.” He was gorgeous after all. “As long as you didn’t actually open your mouth.”
“Nobody told you to strip, Magic Mike, and I didn’t say anything when you were looking at my boobs a second ago. You could’ve just given me the hoodie instead of getting naked.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” “Because I don’t want to smell your rotting corpse.”
“Why are you so beautiful?” I whispered. He didn’t even sound sarcastic as he answered, “Superior genetics. Go back to sleep.”
“Your fever is worse,” he said. “Get better.” “I can’t…” Why was I so out of breath? “Just get better.” “Wrong. Make it happen.”
“But… you don’t even like me.” There, I’d said it. It wasn’t like that was anything new. There was literally no hesitation in his response. The son of a bitch even shrugged a little bit. “You’re all right.”
Half the shit that came out of his mouth was rude, and he had the patience of a toddler, but I was all right?
“You’ll be under my protection for the rest of your life. You understand?” The rest of my life? “You mean until we figure things out?” He shook his head, gaze intent. “They’re never going to stop looking for you, Gracie.” He nailed that coffin shut. “You laid on top of me to save me, even though you knew nothing they could have done would hurt me. For. The. Rest. Of. Your. Life.”
“Since I’m on a roll with the dumb questions, I was wondering if maybe there was some kind of call or noise or something you could make to get The Primordial or The Centurion’s attention.” His laugh was louder than the rain. “What do you think we are? Orcas?”
“Did God give you strong bones because he knew you were going to have a personality people wanted to hurt?”
“She’s like a god, okay?”
“We’re basically the same.”
“Not really.”
“She’s Earth’s Champion,”
“And I’m… what?” “You’re cool too, but everyone feels like they know her. She’s the face of the Trinity. You’re the one who, well, no one even really knows what your face looks like because it’s never been captured that well. Twenty percent more of the population started recycling and reusing after that speech she gave about climate change. I compost because of her.”
“Your great-grandmother wasn’t a witch.”
“She was a fourth Atraxian.”
“That she was from Atraxia. That means you’re one of the few people on this planet with Atraxian blood.”
Open mind, Gracie. Open mind. I wasn’t dreaming. If this was a dream, he would probably be shirtless. And so would I.
“Friends don’t let friends die. Everything’s gonna be fine. You’ve got something better than that knife. You’ve got me.”
I reached out and grabbed the first thing I could: his pinkie.
“Tell her you’re not going to hurt her,” he demanded.
“Tell her,” he repeated. “She’s been itching to stab someone for a couple weeks now.”
He’d let me hold his finger because I needed it. If I had to choose anyone to trust… if I could, it would be him.
“Ignore him. He’s lucky you’re so pretty,” she said. I blinked at her random compliment, but beside me, the son of a bitch snorted. “She’s all right looking.”
He wasn’t just The Defender. He was… Alexander. He was a crabby, sarcastic little shit who wasn’t actually little. He liked arguing. And for some fucked-up reason, I liked arguing with him.
“You sure you don’t have a crazy wife locked in the attic?” “She’s in a locked room next to mine,” Alex
“I don’t want to smell your tears.” It hurt, but I snorted. “Then hold your breath.”
I was starting to think he might be the nicest rude person in the world.
“Over here, Cookie,” he said.
“She’s pretty, Lexi,” she said in soft French. He made a low sound in his throat. “She laid down on top of me to protect me from the people who took her.”
He really was a grumpy son of a bitch with a heart of gold. He tried to hide it, but it was clear as day.
“We made a deal, and you don’t back out on a deal, Cookie. Not with me.”
No. It wasn’t affection. He didn’t even like me. My nipples were out of control. They needed a time-out. Maybe they needed to get grounded.
Cheetos. He was holding fucking Cheetos. I looked at him, and the son of a bitch shook the bag a little as he held it out. Dammit, I had to be logical. “There’s another bag downstairs,” he said, watching me so, so carefully. I could be practical.
“What’s better than regular friends?” he asked. “You can be my best friend number 20. If you share the Cheetos with me, I’ll think about you being number 19.”
He shook the bag a little more. “What do you say, Cookie?”
“No one is going to kill you except maybe me.”
Alex looked at me for a long, long moment. “It annoys me when you’re fucking cute.”
“They want you to be nice, don’t they?” I whispered, trying to antagonize him. “You want to be number 21, don’t you?” he deadpanned.
“But I can do the protecting from now on, Cookie Monster. Bogeyman or not.” We would see about that, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.
“Incredible, beautiful, rich, and a naturally fit. The world is so unfair.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at me, and his voice was a little funny as he asked, “You think that about me?”
Alex pointed at a big Hello Kitty mounted in the corner. The guy pulled it down and handed it over, and Alex tucked it under his arm. “Why did you pick that one?” I asked him, my mouth trembling at the memory of him in my T-shirt. He smirked. “Why do you think?” “It was the biggest shirt I had,” I explained, trying not to smile. “Sure it was.”
