Page 169 of Runaways

"Yeah, it is. Um, I'm pretty tired, so…I should go to sleep."

"Can I show you something?" he asks.

"What is it?"

"Something I think you'll like. You'll just have to trust me."

"Tate…I don't—"

"Come on. Just this one thing, and then I'll start leaving you alone like I promised, okay?"

It's what I've been asking for, so why does my chest ache when he says it?

"Okay," I relent.

"Come on," he says. "Get your boots."

I slip on my boots and jacket and follow him out the front door, letting him take me by the hand and lead me around the side of the house toward the backyard.

I start to get nervous—because after everything, what if this asshole really just brought me out here to kill me?

"Tate? Where are we going?"

"It's easier to see from back here. I forgot your room doesn't have a window."

"See what?" I ask.

"Look up."

"Oh, my god," I whisper.

The Northern Lights.

Green and purple light paints the clear night sky. It's been on my bucket list since I learned about them when I was younger, but it was something I never thought I'd be able to tick off.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it, Tate."

"Remember when you did that presentation about them in seventh grade science?" he asks.

"Yeah. And I remember when Jordan Snyder started fake snoring, and you knocked his desk over."

Tate snorts. "Yep. No one messes with my girl."

"I wasn't your girl then."

He crinkles his nose. "Weren't you, though?"

I quickly look away and change the subject. "I wish I had a camera," I say. "God, it's just…it's better than it is in pictures. It makes me feel so fucking small and insignificant—in a good way, if that makes sense."

"That look right there," he says. "That's how you used to look at me."

"Tate…"

"Sorry, I'll be quiet now. I don't want to ruin this for you, so I'll just take a step back, and you let me knowwhen you're ready to go back inside because like…there are wolves and shit, so I can't leave you out here alone."

"I appreciate that."

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