Page 101 of Resurrection
I held up my hand, watched the ring catch the light from inside the house. "You really mean it, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do."
The desert stretched out around us, vast and full of possibilities. We were just two kids with a crazy plan, but I believed it. Believed him. "So we're really doing this."
"Think you can handle it?" He tipped my chin up, kissed me again.
I giggled and held on tight, thinking maybe, just maybe, I'd figured it out after all.
A few days after my birthday, I was sitting in Ty’s Honda with my bare legs propped on the dash, a suspiciously perfect strawberry slush in my hands, and a jumbo popcorn bag balanced on my thighs.
It was a drive-in night, which was the best way to watch movies in Sageview Ridge when the weather was nice.
Ty looked sideways at me as the pre-movie trailers started, all close-mouthed and broody, the way he always was before he was about to say something that made my insides roll up and hide.
"Hey," he muttered, clearing his throat. "So, you want the popcorn first or should we start with Red Vines?"
I squinted at him. "You ask like it’s a choice. I am not a monster. Obviously, a Red Vine straw first, then popcorn for maximum salt-sugar ratio, then a slushie chaser."
He grinned, all teeth and hint of a stubble, and dug out the Red Vines.
The movie on the screen was a replay ofBlade, which we both loved, but the real show was out the windshield, where the other cars formed cliques: minivans with stickers families, tricked-out pickups with their tailgates down, and a sprinkling of sedans with steamed-up windows and high schoolers making out like they’d die tomorrow.
Welcome to the desert, I thought to myself.
We didn’t make out right away. First, we talked about whatever was bugging us, which was mostly my family not liking the idea of me going to LA, then we watched at least half the movie, and only then did we get to the kissing part.
Tonight, Ty was twitchy, though. His knee bounced, probably tapping the rhythm of one of The Rejects songs.
Something was up. That much I could tell.
I tilted my head. "You seem…antsy. Bad popcorn batch?"
He snorted. "Is there such a thing as bad popcorn?"
"Yes. It’s called unsalted and unbuttered, which is what you got. Freak."
He shrugged. "They were out. I like the plain stuff anyway. Less gets stuck in my teeth."
He was lying. He always drowned his popcorn in butter. I squinted harder.
He glanced at the dash, then back at me. "Adri still giving you a hard time?"
My brother. The sore spot. I made a face. "I just ignore him."
Ty was quiet for a beat. Then he nudged my foot with his. "I got something to show you."
His tone was casual, but there was a flicker in his eyes. He shrugged off his leather jacket and twisted his arm toward me. The sleeve of his black T-shirt rode up, and I caught the glint of new ink on his inner bicep. It was still red around the edges. Red and angry.
I narrowed my eyes to be able to see the tat better.
It was my name, scribbled in a font that looked like it was written by a lovesick poet on a diner napkin.
I went silent. So silent, you could practically hear the popcorn fluffing up in the bag.
Ty was watching my face like he was waiting for me to laugh or panic, but I just stared at it, at my name on his skin, like it was the only thing holding him together.
"Tyler," I said, and my voice cracked right down the middle.
