Page 95 of Veil of Death and Shadow

“You flatter me,” he smirked, leaning back against the tree with a dramatic sigh, “but you’re also, unfortunately, incredibly wrong. You see, I’ve been trying to befriend this girl. She’s making it very difficult though.”

I arched a brow. “Maybe she’s just smart.”

“Maybe she is.” Some of the playfulness in his eyes evaporated.

"Friends are overrated,” I said.

They weren't. Without Sora, there was no telling where I would be in this life, but I was acutely certain that it wouldn't be anywhere good.

"I agree, probably," he said, considering. "But don’t you think I should get the chance to see for myself if that’s true?” He shot me a smirk. “Look, all I’m saying is that you don't have a monopoly on surly and standoffish approaches to relationships. And maybe we can be surly and standoffish in the same vicinity as each other again.”

“Surely there are better options for you out there.”

“No,” he said, “I don’t think that there are.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again.

“Do you want to see me again?" He asked the question as if it was the most logical thing someone could possibly ask. “It’s really very simple, if the answer is yes.”

"I, uh.” I glanced down at my phone, ten minutes until that bus, then back up at him. "I thought you understood after that first night. I'm not really in the market for a new friendship."

"Right," he said, brows furrowing with faux concern, "the infamous curse."

My lips tightened into a stiff line.

"What about Frank?" he asked. "You consider him a friend, too, don't you? And he's not Sora. And he’s still alive."

No, Frank was nothing like Sora. But he also was nothing like Levi.

My relationship with Frank was a standoffish sort. We saw each other every day because we were in the same neighborhood, and while I enjoyed his general existence, it wasn't like we wereclose, close. He was Frank, I was Mareena, and that was that. We existed in each other's orbits, but it wasn't like we talked about life's enduring trials or gave each other dating advice.

Although Frank had tried the latter exactly one time, and we were both so deeply uncomfortable with his attempt that neither of us could even look the other in the eye for a week.

"That's different," I said. "Frank's just—Frank. We aren’t really friends, per se."

"And I'm just Levi."

"Fair point. In that case, I fully endorse you becoming friends with Frank. I'll even put in a good word."

Levi smirked. "I had a—pricklier contender in mind. Don’t want an old softy like Frank getting all attached and needy."

"Frank is plenty prickly.”

"Do you always make everything so difficult?" He let out an exasperated groan.

"Everything."

"Fine, not friendship. What would I do with a friend anyway?" He narrowed his eyes, the weight of his gaze unrelenting. "But what if you and I tried something else?”

“Like?”

“Like—” his mouth curved into that grin again, “like diet friendship."

"Diet friendship?” I deadpanned.

“Yeah, you know, like diet soda.” He shrugged, searching for the words. “It’s the shadow of the real thing, or the suggestion of it more than the thing itself—derivative. No one loves it, it’s no one’s first choice, but they tolerate it. Or at least they pretend to.”

“Speak for yourself. Regular soda’s too syrupy-sweet for my taste.”

---