Page 124 of Runaways

"I'm filthy," I caution as he climbs into the tub behind me. "The water is gross."

"That doesn't bother me. And I'm bloody," he says, rubbing my shoulders. "You stabbed me."

I almost apologize, but I'm still not sorry.

Tate wraps his arms around me while leaning over to kiss the side of my face and then reaches for my shampoo bottle. He squeezes some into his hand and takes his time massagingthe shampoo into my hair. I let my eyes close, relishing the sensation of his fingernails against my scalp.

It's okay,I tell myself.It's okay to love this. What's the worst that could happen?

And that little alarm that's constantly going off in my head anytime he's around gets quieter, the same way it did that summer. Not silent—never silent—but quieter.

"I missed you, Tate," I whisper.

"You didn't have to," he says. "Seven hundred and eighty-six days, Noah. Is that a fair thing to do to somebody?"

"What?"

"That's how many days we missed together," he says, rinsing my hair. "It could have been like this, you know."

"You hurt me."

"I didn't mean to; it wasn't what I wanted. And you hurt me, too—you hold onto grudges just as tightly as I do. We're more alike than you're willing to admit, and now, I've got the scars to prove it—inside and out."

I lean back against his chest and turn, looking up at him. Tate is beautiful—it's how he gets away with so much. He looks so much like Mia, especially with his hair away from his face. Thick lashes frame bright hazel eyes, his cheeks full and smile impeccable.

He has dimples when he smiles.

"What if I did die in the hole?" I ask, not expecting a serious answer.

He sighs and pulls me closer, resting his cheek against mine. "I'd get smaller again, like I did when Mia died. Maybe it would be too much, and I wouldn't exist at all. Sometimes, I can'tstand how small I feel without her. I didn't realize how much of me was her. I didn't realize how much of me was you, either."

I sigh, letting my eyes close again.

"I care about you," he says, trailing a finger along my jawline. "You mean so much to me—you know that. I was good to you, Noah."

I don't know how to answer that, so I don't. Tate really is good when he wants to be…the best, even. But I watched him manipulate others the exact same way our entire lives. And as I got older, I wondered how much of Tate was genuine and how much was just something he'd learned to do—like he'd read it in a book or seen something on television and decided to imitate it, thinking,This is how you people.

Then I fell in love with him, and I tried not to think about it anymore.

He used to draw hearts inside my palms while I slept. He let me drive his car when I was fifteen, and when I hit a telephone pole, he took the blame so I wouldn't get it in trouble; I never asked him to. People who don't really care don't do things like that, do they?

And he made me laugh, even when I didn't want to. It was always impossible to be sad around Tate until just thinking of Tate made me sad.

We stay there until the water gets cold, and then I help him bandage the gash on his shoulder. The bite mark isn't nearly as deep, so it should be fine, but it will leave a mark. Without thinking about it, I dip my head and press my lips to the same spot.

Like it's still just something we do. Like he's mine to kiss wherever I want.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me, and holds me against his chest. "You're sweet, Noah," he says.

Early morning sunlight refracts from the chandelier by the time we leave the bathroom. I dress in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and crawl into bed beside naked Tate.

"True crime is an interesting choice for you," I say before I turn off the television.

"I only watch the unsolved ones. Or the cold cases," he says, spooning me. "I like the ones where the bad guys get away."

I never did. They scared me. Horror movies always scared me, too. When we were younger, Mia and I would stay up late watching slasher movies we had no business watching and scaring the shit out of ourselves. It was awful, yet somehow a good memory.

Or it was. Until I lived a horror movie.

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