Page 126 of Runaways

"He's not going to save you from me, Noah," Tate says, running his fingers through my hair. "You know that."

"Do I need to be saved from you, Tate?" I ask.

He smiles sadly. "Probably."

I don't know what to make of that answer, but my heart sinks a little.

"I miss this," Silas says, seemingly oblivious to the moment that just passed between us. "Oh, I brought you guys breakfast…even though it's three in the fucking afternoon."

"It's three?" I ask.

"Three-thirty now," he says. He kisses the top of my head before crawling out from under me.

I sit up in the bed beside Tate and watch Silas grab a paper bag from the counter. He pulls out two giant smoothies and hands them to us. "Here you go," he says. "There are eight hundred calories in that, Noah."

"Thanks," I tell him. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did. I take care of the people I love. And I love you both."

He says it so casually, dropping back into that place beside me afterward and resting his hand on the inside of my thigh like it's the easiest thing in the world. But the air in the room has changed. There's tension between me and the person who spent an hour holding me in the bath last night. I can't quite name it, so I ignore it, sipping from my giant eight hundred calorie smoothie.

"It's too fucking quiet in here. I can't stand it," Tate says.

Silas and I exchange a look while he reaches for the remote and turns on the TV, selecting another episode ofUnsolved Mysteriesfrom Netflix.

"He likes the ones where the bad guys get away."

Silas laughs. "Yeah, I know."

I watch Tate stare at the television and drink from a matching styrofoam cup, a tattooed hand with black polished nails wrapped around it.

He used to paint them blue—a shade of blue that matched his blue hair. It was an OPI color calledNo Chips on my Shoulder, and sometimes, he'd paint mine to match. I'd worry that Mia would notice, and she'd be suspicious, but I liked having evidence of our secret, and she never did.

"What?" he asks, sensing my staring.

"Nothing." I decide to sayfuck itto the weird tension, and lean over and kiss him on the lips. "I was just thinking about you. Or remembering you, I guess."

"Something good, then?" he asks.

"Mmhmm. Something nice."

"Are you admitting I was nice to you sometimes?"

I shrug. "Yeah."

He lifts my chin and narrows his eyes, searching mine for something, but I'm not sure what it is. "Hmm…" he says before kissing me. "Okay."

I'm confused, but he changes the subject.

"Did you bring the costumes?" he asks Silas.

Silas smiles widely, laughing a little. "Yeah, they're in that bag by the front door."

"What costumes?" I ask.

"It's Halloween, Noah. It's our favorite holiday. Did you forget?"

Honestly, yes. I've had little concept of day or time since the café closed.

---