Page 36 of Offside Devil

But the rest of it? Zane?

I have no idea.

“Typical couples do a lot of things that you and I won’t,” he says finally. His hand finds the knot of my t-shirt. He tugs on it absently and his fingertips brush against the skin of my hip. “Things that we can’t do. If we’re smart.”

I’m not breathing.

I stare at him, frozen, every nerve ending in my body fixated on his warm fingers against my skin.

Then Daniel breaks into song in the other room.

Zane pulls away and swallows hard. He leaves my room without saying anything, but I can’t move for a long time. I stand here, struggling to breathe, with only one thought in my head:

I don’t think I’m smart enough not to do those things.

16

MIRA

“I’m assuming the reason you’re calling so late is because you’ve been enthusiastically and horizontally thanking your new boyfriend for all his help today.”

I don’t even dignify Taylor with a response. “Why can’t I see you? Do you have your video off?”

“No, I don’t—Oh, wait, I do. Give me a sec.” Suddenly, the video flares to life, and I shriek. “Oh, God, don’t be dramatic, Mimi.”

Taylor has on a hard plastic, white mask with cutouts for her eyes, nose, and mouth, with a glowing red light pouring out from underneath like Darth Vader at a rave.

“Screaming when you think you’re talking to your best friend but Michael Myers shows up instead isn’t ‘dramatic.’ It’s a pretty understated reaction, actually.”

“It’s a light therapy mask.”

“No, it’s nightmare fuel. Can you not? I can’t take you seriously with that thing on.”

“I cannot not,” she snaps back. “You’re the one who waited until the middle of the night to call me. This is my light therapy time. If you want to see something truly scary, I’ll show you my under-eye bags when I don’t do this. Now, that is scary.”

Taylor has a twelve-step skincare routine that she is borderline religious about. Our budding friendship was almost derailed when she first came to my apartment and found out I was washing my face with a bar of soap I kept next to the sink.

“Fine. Then we’ll do this recap tomorrow. I’ll call you in the morning and?—”

“No way! Hang up and I’ll break into Zane’s condo and stand over your bed with this mask on,” she threatens. “You’ll be traumatized.”

“Too late for that,” I mumble.

“You can’t tell, but I’m rolling my eyes,” she says. “Now, spill. What’s it like? What’s he like?”

She acts like that’s an easy question to answer. Like I should be able to summarize all of Zane Whitaker in five words or less.

I sigh. “He’s my boss. I don’t know. The condo is nice. Zane is nice. Everything is nice.”

Taylor gives me a thumbs down and blows a loud raspberry. “Try again. I saw the way he was looking at you before I left today. There was nothing ‘nice’ about his ogling.”

“He wasn’t ogling me!” I argue, even while some desperate part of me kinda, sorta, maybe hopes he was. It would only be fair. An ogle for an ogle. “He helped me move.”

“Into his house,” she reminds me—as if I could forget. “Are you sharing a room?”

“Of course not, Tay. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like we’re a real couple.”

Typical couples do a lot of things that you and I won’t. Things that we can’t do. If we’re smart.

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