Page 58 of They're Watching You

“I deserved that,” Remington calls back. Beside me, Gavin doesn’t even crack a smile. He does take my pack, though, hefting it onto his spine.

“Hey,” I whisper once Remington has disappeared behind the next corner. “Thanks for coming after me. I was really scared until you showed up.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he says, but the wordfriendscarries a sardonic bite.

I tug on his coat sleeve until he stops walking. “It was stupid. To hang up on you. To leave you out of the loop.”

“Well, it sounds like you had better things to do.” Gavin’s gaze is glued to his boots.

My cheeks heat. “What does that mean?”

“I can read between the lines. You kissed him.”

“Yes, but it was only because—”

“You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“I’m sorry, Gavin.”

He nods, but his head is still slack. There’s nothing left to say. To him, I’m ruined. I grab the lantern I abandoned earlier, handing Gavin my flashlight.

We follow the haze of Remington’s torch until the passageway swings left. The cold is nearly an entity in its own right, a frosty presence coating the walls and the air in front of me. The silence is more unnerving than an actual walking skeleton at this point. “So, how did he manage to win again?”

Gavin and I pass beneath an arch leading to a dank corridor that smells of sewage. I gag into Remington’s coat, which I’m still wearing because I’m not going to kill myself in an attempt to be dignified.

“Hope it’s not a fresh body,” Gavin mumbles through a hand.

I swat him, like I always do in chemistry. And I swear he’s smiling beneath that hand.

“The game waspankration,” Gavin says, when we finally make it past the horrible stench. “An oldie-but-goodie combining boxing with wrestling. A challenge of brute strength, perfect for yourboyfriend.”

I release a hard breath that rustles the wisps of hair around my face. “Why are you making me feel worse about this?” I snap, frustrated with myself, but also frustrated with him. Why can’t Gavin just stay my goofy, accident-prone lab partner?

He keeps striding along, ignoring the question, so I hit him again. Except this time, as my arm falls away, Gavin twists around, snatching my wrist with his free hand. Stunned, I don’t try to wrench it away. Instead, I let him move until his face hovers inches over mine, the lantern light crackling in his eyes. My heart is racing and jumping and smacking into things. Biting my lip, I wait as he looks at me like he’s attempting to read my thoughts.

Gavin’s jaw is steadier than I’ve ever seen it as his wrist loosens and his thumb moves lightly over my skin. He lets my arm fall, moving his fingers up to lightly brush my cheek. “Because I wish you’d deny it,” he says finally. “All of it. Any of it.” He removes his hand. “But you don’t.”

I glance down, the feverish wish that he’d touch my cheek again spiraling through my brain. “You want me to say he’s not my boyfriend? He’s not my boyfriend, okay? Better?”

“No,” he says softly, pressing closer. “Say you didn’t kiss him.” I let him walk me back, and when my spine grazes the wall, he stops. “Say you didn’t call me for help only to turn around and kisshim.” His breath is hot against my cheek.

“I’m not going to lie to you.”

“Then say I wasn’t imagining everything. That I wasn’t delusional to think you and I make a pretty great team.” His chest lifts, like he’s holding his breath.

I don’t answer.

His chest falls again. “When you called, I guess I thought—I just thought…” He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.” A weak laugh escapes. “You were thinking something else.”

The words, the laugh—they’re like a sledgehammer to my chest. Because I had the same thought about him, and I ignored it. “You’re not delusional,” I say. “You’re negligent, cocky, and a poor dresser, generally speaking. What I’m trying to say is that you have a lot of negative qualities.” At this, the corner of Gavin’s mouth quirks. “But delusional isn’t one of them. And you and I do make a pretty great team. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Remington, I think because Annabelle wanted us to. And now I don’t know what she wants anymore.”

“Forget about what Annabelle wants,” he says. “Forget about Remington, too, for that matter. I did try to warn you about him.”

“I know.” Shame heats my neck, Remington’s coat almost stifling as Gavin’s eyes trace over it. I want to throw it to the ground, to show Gavin I don’t need Remington in any way, shape, or form.

But I don’t get the chance. Because Remington calls my name, his voice rattling every pillar as it snakes through the corridor, followed by a piercing scream.

A female scream.

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