Page 47 of The Knockout

Ares

I thought you were all at the beach.

Bellamy

Heading down this afternoon.

Nixon

Yeah. I’m driving.

Bellamy

You offered.

Caitlin

I can drive.

Bellamy

NO.

Nixon

NO.

Ares

How many cars have you crashed this year?

Caitlin

This year? Only two.

Nixon

Only . . . Only, she says.

Ares

Don’t burn my house down.

I close out of my messages and drop down on the edge of Grace’s bed, wondering how today went sideways so quickly.

“Hey,” she whispers a few minutes later, and I look up.

Grace walks over to me, freshly showered and wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. Her long, dark hair is piled high on her head with damp tendrils framing her face. So much warm, pink, soft skin.

She moves between my legs and takes my phone out of my hands, then tosses it to the nightstand.

I wrap my hands around the backs of her long legs and drop my head to her chest.

Grace’s fingers dig into my hair, massaging my scalp. “Why were you angry earlier?”

I run my hands up the back of her bare legs under her towel and drag her closer. “I don’t want to do this today. It’s your birthday.”

“Do what?” I look up and watch her eyes flick over my face, searching.

---