Page 96 of Veil of Death and Shadow

“That,” he said, “doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“Well,” I started, not entirely sure why I was even entertaining this ludicrous tangent right now, “what makes a friendship . . . diet?"

"I don’t know. I’ve just invented it. I guess it’s just whatever version of friendship you find tolerable enough to convince you to admit that you actuallywantto hang out with me again.”

I stared at him, stunned and speechless, trying to materialize some sort of response—but I had nothing.

His eyes were teasing as they met mine in the silence. “Gods, Sora really wasn't kidding, was she? You really do need an iron will to get you to relent even the slightest bit.” He let out a ragged chuckle, but when I stood up and grabbed my things, he stood, too, hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Hang on, just don’t go. Not yet. What if we make some ground rules? As many as you’d like. I mean it—the sky’s the limit. Just consider the possibility that on the scale of Frank to Sora, there is somewhere I might possibly fit."

"Ground rules?"

"Yeah, like," he paused, searching, "like okay, how about this—I promise not to call you Mars until you ask me to. And . . .” He held up a finger when I started to protest. “And, we will never hang out more than once every few months or so. Surely everyone who's been taken out by your curse has been around more frequently than that, right? Risk averted."

He wasn't wrong.

"And," he continued, sensing that I was wavering, "just to be sure that we don’t divert into something less—diet—you should make a vow that you won’t fall in love with me."

I snorted. "No problem there at least."

"That's what you think." He smirked. "I can be pretty damn irresistible when I want to be."

"You clearly don't want to be very often," I muttered.

"See," he said, "this is what I need in my life. You keep me humble."

"Why do you want to be my friend so badly? I'm sure you could very easily find someone else, someone you don't needto negotiate with—someone normal, someone way less, I don’t know," I searched for the word, landing on it with an icy smirk, "prickly."

"I happen to like prickly. In fact," he shot a far friendlier smirk back, "prickly is my favorite flavor of diet friendship."

I fought against the genuine grin threatening to take over my mouth. When I finally won that surprisingly difficult battle, I shook my head and sighed. "Look, I'm not being an asshole on purpose, okay? Trust me, the whole no friendship thing is for your own good?—"

"Diet friendship.”

"Whatever." I groaned and glanced down at my phone again. I had three minutes to get to my bus.

If I wanted to make it, I needed to leave now.

Why was I even entertaining this? All I had to do was gently turn him down, turn around, and go home. It was such a simple, easy thing to do.

And yet, here I was. Actually toying with the idea of breaking my well-defined rules.

For him.

Why?

"It might seem like a joke to you, this whole," I waved my hand awkwardly between us, "curse thing. I get that. It probably sounds fucking absurd. But I swear that it's not. And I can't have another person's death on my shoulders. It's too hard, okay?"

Hard didn’t even begin to cover it. I honestly didn’t think I would survive that kind of pain or guilt again.

"I don't think it's ridiculous," he said, his face more sober now. "I just think that you're the type of person who's maybe, I don’t know,” his eyes slid to mine, lingering there for a beat past comfortable, “worth the risk."

"Levi—"

"And," he said, cutting me off, "this isn't like the other situations. I, for one, am profoundly aware of the risk, probably even more than you are, if I’m being honest. But I'm interested in testing the boundaries of this supposed curse—and I’m doing so of my own volition. If I end up kicking the bucket early, I promise not to blame you."

"You'll be dead, I won’t really be concerned about your blame at that point."

"Yeah, but you get what I mean." He shrugged. "In my . . . field," he paused, as if tasting the word on his tongue, "people die all the time. It's a dangerous job."

---