Page 75 of Make Them Cry
“I wanted it to be you,” she admits quietly, fingers playing with the drawstring of my hoodie. “Part of me. Even when I hated that, I wanted that.”
A laugh punches out of me, wrecked and happy. “You don’t understand how happy that makes me.”
She huffs. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, because honesty is the only thing I can offer that matters. “When you were scared. When the threads went loud. When you thought you were alone. I wanted it to be me who answered. Even if you didn’t know my name.”
She goes very still. Then: “You did answer.”
“Not always the right way.”
She looks at me for a long, soft beat. “Do better now.”
“I will,” I say, and it feels like a vow that fits.
We kiss again—lazy, ruined, content—and she eventually slides off my lap to stand between my knees, hands on my shoulders like she can keep me tethered with two palms. Maybe she can.
“You should sleep,” I tell her, thumb sweeping absent circles over the inside of her wrist. “Big day tomorrow. Girls’ night autopsy. We’ll dissect everything that happened.”
She squints. “You’re not supposed to know about girls’ night.”
I try for innocent. It fails. “Wild rumor.”
She laughs, light and low, and it does something dangerous to my insides. “Walk me to my door?”
“We’re in your place,” I say.
“Walk me anyway.”
So I do—three steps to the bedroom doorway, where she leans in and kisses me once more like she’s stamping a seal on the night. It’s soft. It’s final. It’s a promise we’re allowed to keep.
“Good night, Mask,” she teases, eyes bright.
“Good night, River,” I say, because some names deserve no costume.
I make myself leave. The hallway is cooler, emptier. I close her door and stand on the other side, palm flat to the wood like I can feel her warmth through it.
I’ve been in love with her for so long it scared me.
Tonight, the fear is still there. But it’s standing next to something bigger—something that looks like a life I haven’t let myself want.
I head down the stairs with a stupid smile I can’t shake, already counting the locks, the cameras, the corners—because wanting her doesn’t mean I stop watching the doors. It just means I finally know which ones I want to walk through with her.
What the fuck am I doing?
I turn right around, heading back. I stand at her door, and knock.
She opens like she was waiting for me on the other side. Like she knew I’d change my mind.
“I promised I’d stay,” I whisper as she pushes the door aside and lets me in.
“You did,” she says, shutting the door behind me with a smile.
I grab her, pulling her into my arms. “And I’m not about breaking promises,” I say before kissing her.
I love the way she feels against me. Like we’re meant to always end up here. We move in unison to the couch, and she falls down first. I love looking at her. Her lips all bruised from my kisses.
She raises her arms, wanting me to join her. But I have other plans. “Yoga pants off,” I tell her.
