“I cooked,” Alex says. “I hope you’re happy.”
He’s been waiting for me in the den, one leg propped up on the other, his foot wiggling. It’s been raining since about five, so I take my boots off and leave them by the door. I couldn’t skip cheer tonight. And I wouldn’t. If he wants to be treated as a priority, he needs to show me I’m one too.
“What did you make?”
“Lasagna. My grandfather’s recipe. And garlic bread.” His voice has an edge to it. “It’s been ready. I’ve been waiting.” He doesn’t stand. Just sits there and stares at me.
“I had practice. You know that. I can’t just skip. People would talk.” I slip out of my jacket and hang it on the back of a chair. I took a quick shower in the locker room even though I hate the floors in there and there is an actual risk I’m going to get a raging case of athlete’s foot. He should be grateful I got here this early.
Alex finally pushes off of the couch and takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen. “You’re wearing the necklace,” he says, and blood rushes to my cheeks.
“Yes.”
I don’t tell him I haven’t taken it off. I’d almost unclasped it a hundred times, but I never had.
“You hungry?”
“Yes.”
It’s a lie. I’m not hungry. I’m nervous. He’s acting weird—whether it’s because he thinks Jacqueline will catch us or he’s angry with me or he thinks this whole thing is a stupid mistake, I don’t know.
I start to sit down, but before I can, he grabs me. His hands are rough, and he doesn’t start gentle with me, like he normally does. He kisses me, hard, his teeth biting into my lips and his hands pushing up roughly under my shirt. I return the kiss, but he grows rougher, and before I know it we’re on the kitchen floor and suddenly kissing him isn’t fun anymore and I taste blood in my mouth.
I turn my head and shove him away. “Stop!” I push at him and climb to my feet. “What are you doing?”
He climbs to his knees. “I’m—I’m sorry, Riley. I just—I wanted you. I missed you.” He runs both hands through his hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“You didn’t scare me,” I say. “I’m just not some whore you can screw on your kitchen floor, okay?” I pull myself into the chair. “We’re not like that.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry, Riley. I just missed you so much. It hasn’t been easy to be without you.” He ducks his head. He still needs a haircut. Parts of his hair, usually messy in a boyish way, are sticking up oddly, making him look a bit crazed. I want to smooth it down, but I restrain myself.
“Could have fooled me,” I snap. I touch my lip to see if I’m bleeding, and my finger comes away with a small red spot of blood. “You’ve been acting like I don’t exist.”
He pulls himself up. “I—I just had to figure everything out, Riley. I didn’t expect Jacqueline to come back. I thought it was over. I thought she was gone. And then all of a sudden she was back, acting like everything was okay and normal, and I was suddenly supposed to act like that too, and I just panicked and I’m sorry. Nothing about my feelings for you have changed. Nothing about our plans have changed. And I haven’t touched her.” He holds up his hands. “I swear, Riley.”
“Well,” I say, my fingers sliding over the silverware he’s set out for me. They pause on the knife. “I’m not sleeping with you until you get rid of her. I’m not that kind of girl.”
His eyes flash. “I never said you were.”
I shrug, and I feel like the space below my collarbone is hollow.
“Okay,” he says. “I will, so long as you never go on another stupid date while we’re together.”
“Fine.” My words are sharp and they hurt even before they leave my tongue.
“Fine. Should we shake on it?”
I stare at him for a moment.
I need something more. Something bigger than a handshake. Something to make him remember who is really in charge.
“No,” I say. I stand up and walk to his kitchen counter. “Take off your shirt.”
Behind me, I hear the sounds of fabric as he slips it off. I take mine off and drop it behind me. His breathing quickens audibly.
I pull a sharp silver knife from the wooden block on his countertop. It comes free with a snick. I turn it this way and that to catch the light from the kitchen fixture.
Alex’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t step away.
I draw it across my chest in a neat line, opening a short, shallow cut over my heart. The flesh opens more easily than I’d imagine. The blood wells and collects and falls down my chest in well-ordered lines.
I hold it out to him, handle first, the blade resting loosely in my palm.
He stares at the blade for a moment, then takes it from me. He grits his teeth and makes an identical cut just over his own heart, and then grabs me and hold me tight against him. I feel the warmth of his blood against my skin, and for a moment I am angry and hurt and want to give in to him completely all at the same time.
“I promise.” He looks down into my eyes.
“Me too.” I don’t blink.
“It’s a blood bond, then. Unbreakable.”
“It’s forever,” I tell him. I close my hand over his on the hilt of the knife.