Page 31 of Antihero
She smiles. "Thought I'd give it a try."
I huff, turning back for the bathroom, leaving the door open. Paige takes this as invite enough and follows me while I'm tidying up the sink.
"You're so neat," she says, leaning on the doorframe, the bed behind her. "I barely ever cleaned anything in your room back at the ward."
"Is that what you’re here to comment on?" I ask, glancing back.
I might imagine her blush as she cuts away from meeting my eyes in the mirror. Not so long ago, we were in front of a bathroom mirror in a very different context. She steps across the tiles and plucks a tissue off the basin. I stay still as she dabs what must be a stray drop of brown dye off the back of my neck. "Covering up the blonde, huh?"
She nods over to the bathtub, and I sit on the edge, giving her easier reach as she stands by my knees and cleans up the line near my eyebrows—which thankfully, are darker anyway, so don't need dying. "I'd like to see you blond. Like a real Prince Charming."
I snort. Her knees brush against mine. "What do you want?" I ask softly.
"I came to make a peace offering."
Eyebrow raised, I give an unconvinced, "Uh-huh?"
"We had a nice thing before all of this. We could go back to that. You know, dating.” She drifts a little closer and stands just between my knees, looking down at me.
Normally, dating requires some level of trust, and I trust hermuchless far than I could throw her. Instead of saying that, I ask sceptically, "Could we? Call me crazy, but I’m not sure I could take you at your word on anything. You’ve got some ulterior motives, remember?"
“Well, we’ve got the same hobby,” she offers with a mischievous smile. “That’s more than some.”
“It’s not a hobby. It’s that sort of thinking that will get you caught.”
“Yeah, by Harold? Or Oliver?” I frown at the names, and she clarifies, “They’re the only two of the cops on this island, and they’re both on the Wraith case.”
“I haven’t encountered them.”
“Exactly. They’re just biding their time until retirement. People have been getting away with shit on this island longer than we’ve been alive. But the city doesn’t want to lose a good detective to this backwater.” I know that to be true. Tregam is usually scrabbling to cover its own ass without having to send detectives off to islands no one wants to remember. With a shrug, Paige concedes, “Eventually they’ll send someone from Tregam though.” She smirks. “I’m guessing you’ll want to be gone before that.” She’s right there. There’s a high chance they’d recognise me. Even more reason I should stop her, before she draws too much attention to White Rock.
When I don’t answer, Paige shrugs, giving a suggestive raise of her eyebrows. "Well, if you need convincing, we could seal the deal however you like."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Romantic."
"What do you want? A box of heart-shaped chocolates?"
"Could be nice."
She frowns, like I've surprised her. What? Am I supposed to only want to drink and fuck? I like sweet gestures too. When I stand up, she steps back. “I know what you really want, and I'm not going to just let you get on with it. I told you, I’m not going to let up."
"I know that,” Paige sighs, stepping out the door for a second, calling back, “And since I figured you might not trust me, or you’d be averse to the other way of sealing the deal right now, I brought this." She steps back in with a mostly empty bottle ofwhisky. "Will you have a drink with me? Just a small one," she adds.
“And what would we be drinking to?” I ask, hitching one leg over into the bathtub. Still sitting on the rim as I turn the tap on to a drizzle, I bow my head down and start rinsing out the dye. I'm in need of a haircut.
“I’m tired,” she says, though I note she doesn’t say she’s going to stop murdering people. “Good time for a truce? Some civility, maybe?” she asks, putting down the bottle to pick up a clean towel and bring it over.
“A truce,” I repeat, unconvinced, watching the water turn clear.
“Well, what better time? We’re even now.”
I’m not sure howshe’sscoring things, but by my calculations, I still owe her a few. However, since she’s passing me a clean towel and trying to extend an olive branch, I try to keep things civil. Paige is standing in front of me when I turn off the tap and look up. I rest my elbow on my knee, my hair dripping, and she doesn’t shy away as I hold her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
Paige laughs. “Trying to convince yourself I’m not insane?”
“Oh, you’re definitely insane,” I shoot back. “I’m just trying to work out if it's ‘just’ insane.”
Her lips press together, she tilts her head. “Come now, you know I can’t tell you that. Because then you’d know who’s next.”
