Page 115 of Runaways

I know that's the closest I'll ever get to anything resembling an actual apology from Tate. "Thanks, but…I actually do."

"You're still her hero, though, aren't you?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I don't feel like a hero. I'm going to go grab the food."

"I guess that means I can officially start drinking."

"What are you talking about?" I scoff. "You've been drinking since we got back."

"But that wasn't myofficialdrinking," Tate says. "I've had a challenging day."

He's up to something; I narrow my eyes. "Do I need to be worried about you after I leave tonight?"

"Whatever do you mean?" he asks, grabbing a handle of whiskey and pouring some out into a coffee mug. He toasts to me and smiles before taking a drink.

Straight whiskey in a coffee mug. Very official drinking.

I love Tate. I love his unpredictability, and I know Noah loved it, too. It's what's always made being with him thrilling in a way that I've never felt with anyone else. The world has more color when Tate is in it, even if oftentimes, that color is red.

However, that same unpredictability—the same things about Tate that challenges me and makes life more exciting—is what makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

But a little oxygen depravation feels good, too.

"What are you planning on doing?" I ask. "Not killing Noah's boyfriend or anything, right?"

"Don't call him that," Tate hisses. "He's not her boyfriend; she doesn't even like him. That fucking nerd isn't even her type."

I bite back laughter. I don't want to piss him off again, but…sure. Tate's not in love with Noah at all. I hope he's done playing this fucking game soon, because I miss us—the three of us. I miss sleeping together with Noah in the middle, all our legs intertwined and smelling her hair as I fall asleep.

I want to take care of them both. I don't need money; I don't need fame or notoriety or anything like that. I just need a purpose. Andthat's my purpose.

"So, the nerd is safe, then?"

"He's safe as long as he stays out of my sight," Tate says. "I'll probably just hang out here. Maybe I'll go visit freckles later…you know, after she's asleep, like you said."

That probably wouldn't be a bad idea…for either of them, really. Maybe they can finally tear each other's walls apart, and we can all go home.

"Don't hurt her."

He puts his hands up innocently. "I won't. But could you leave me her keys and the phone when you go tonight?"

I shrug. I don't see why not.

"Yeah, I can do that."

seventeen

The Walking Almost-Dead Girl

Noah

I'm lying awake in the dark, tossing and turning, debating taking one of Jodie's pills and which one I should take, when my phone rings.

I prepare to hit ignore on what I assume is another spam call before I seeUNKNOWNscrolling across the screen, and I wonder if maybe it's Tate or Silas.

Or—let's be honest—it would just be Silas.

I push accept. "Hello?"

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