I stiffen. “What’s your point?”
“I’m just wondering if you’re still the same girl I left in December.”
“And what girl is that?”
“Not this one.” He’s so close I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. “You’re trying to be two different people, Betts, and only one of them is who you really are.”
Ironic words, considering he has two sides, too. There’s the easy-going Leo, the one who relaxes beside me and reads for hours, the one who can coolly stare down my hostile, jealous boyfriend. And then there’s the Leo who recklessly, persistently, pursues his obsessions. He devours books and neglects his coursework, chases down mysteries, and comes and goes without consideration—like no rules apply to him.
And this, the latter, is the Leo I’m trapped in the pantry with.
Coolly, I remind him, “You really need to get out of here.” I push against his chest, but where is there for him to go?
“So do you.” He grabs me by the waist like he’s going to drag me out with him.
“Leo—”
“You know I’m right.”
I know sometimes he frustrates the hell out of me.
You’re clairsentient.
You deserve friends who understand you.
You’re not an ornament.
Leo is the reason I’m split in two. With all his questions and experiments andpushiness!For god’s sake, I’m not going to cutmyself off from everything I know just because I’m psychic. Why can’t I just enjoy a party in peace?
When I brush his hands away, he hisses, “You’re more than this.”
No, I’m not. I’m a tipsy girl in a dusty pantry stocked with ramen noodles, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and boxed mac and cheese. I’m no different from the people on the other side of that door, laughing and shouting over the music, looking to get drunk, laid, or both. This is who I am.
“What do you want me to do?” I whisper-yell. “Just walk out of here with you and never come back?”
I’m floored when he says simply, “Yes.”
“You know I can’t do that!”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because this is my life!”
He takes hold of my chin. “I’m going to say it again—you’re more than this.”
I growl his name, ready to rip out my hair—or, better yet, his—when he shoves open the door and exposes us both to the light. I yank away from him and stumble out into the kitchen.
“Hey!” Zander emerges from the crowd, wearing a grin. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. What were you doing in the pantry?”
Oh god. I reach for the counter as the blood rushes from my head.Don’t come out yet, Leo. Please.I can’t deal with a fistfight.
“Easy there, babe.” Zander rounds the island and takes me in his arms. “I leave you for ten minutes and you drink half the cooler.” He’s amused. Giggly. With relief, I realize he’s stoned. Baked Zander is almost impossible to piss off.
Over my shoulder, I see Leo slipping past, heading for the exit. I wipe the fear from my face and turn my attention back to Zander. Shit, his eyes are directed at the kitchen door. I grab him by the face and kiss him, so hard he chuckles low in his throat, and thrusts his tongue in my mouth.
When his kisses shift to my neck, I steal one last peek behind me.Just in time to see Leo’s broad back as he disappears out the door. I’m braced for Zander’s rage, but he never stops gripping my rear end and humming against my neck. Is he that far gone? How did he not see Leo?
Zander gives me a wink and a grin. “You wanna go upstairs?”
