Page 165 of The Casualty of Us
“Okay, well, there are two points to consider.” He laughs quietly. “One, I took the plunge with that particular substance when you were thirteen and probably pining after Kyler, so let’s call that one fair, yeah?”
I scowl at the logic there before muttering, “Whatever.”
“And two…” He pauses for so long that I’m about to ask if he passed out when his voice softens again. “Your firsts mean more to me than mine ever did, okay?”
I blink at the picture taped to the back of the bookshelf.
The one that already had maps and my handwritten notes plastered across it from over the summer. Timelines on the top with questions below that followed by maps and routes and any scrap of evidence that’s floating around the internet. My ownlittle crime board that outlines pretty much everything I know regarding my kidnapping, with the note I picked up two days ago taped to the center now. The picture of me and Hayes and Ollie leaving the park after our run the day I left the book there, right underneath it.
I look back to the note, reading over the scrawl there for probably the thousandth time.
There’s no room for three,
Him or me,
Either way, the game starts in—
One, two, three.
“I know that,” I whisper back. It’s why even though I hate that he’s had all his firsts with other people, ultimately it doesn’t really matter when it comes down to it. “I know that.” The words leave me more strongly this time and I roll my eyes at my sappiness. “Sorry, I started my period today, and it’s got me feeling weird.”
Using the ready-made excuse to my advantage.
“Oh.” A beat passes before he tries. “Is there anything I can do?”
The question is tinged with an uncharacteristic unsureness that has me answering with a lift of my lips. “No, I’ll be okay.”
He pauses again before pressing. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, staring at the image of him in front of me and hating myself deep down just a little bit for pulling him into this. All of it leaving me mixed up enough to confess, “Yeah, I just miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Freckles.” His voice drops with the intimate rasp, and it has my stomach flipping for a whole different reason before he tackson, “Why don’t you come to Thanksgiving with me next year?” like it’s no big deal.
“Pardon?”
Another quiet laugh leaves him. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” he cajoles. “I dare you.”
“Well.” I stare at the picture with part of my mind trying to figure out exactly where he had to be to take it from that angle. “How could I say no to that?”
Trying to slide into his mind and view myself through the lens of the predator.
“That’s my girl.” His voice drops with the statement like his mind is on decidedly more pleasurable things before he clears his throat. “I got to go, my dad is calling. I’ll text you before I take off tomorrow, though.”
“Okay.” I suck in a quick breath. “I’ll probably beat you back, but we’ll see.”
I wonder if I can maybe bribe one of the photography kids to tell me what kind of camera or equipment this was shot with. If it’s top-tier stuff, then it might be—
“All right, baby, see you soon.”
“See you soon, lov—” I choke on the word to stop it, fervently hoping it comes across the phone as something like a cough right up until the silence drags on too long and his voice finally comes through again.
“Freckles?”
And the way it’s full of nothing but happy amusement makes me panic.
“I have to go.”
“Got something stuck in your throat there?”
