Page 58 of Hide and Keep

The corners of her lips pull in opposite directions, and she nods.

For a moment, I forget my surroundings, my job, my name. Her genuine smile’s so goddamn hypnotic, it could stop traffic. Or my heart. Am I dead? And she’s my angel?

I blink and reality comes back into focus. Café. Bodyguard. Ever Munreaux, head bitch on campus and flyer, whatever the fuck that means because I passed out before I could look it up.

Shit. I need to build up a tolerance to her soft side and fast.

Clearing my throat, I tap her cup with mine, rasping out, “Cheers.”

Cheers? What the fuck?

I’m about to send myself to that early grave.

I quickly gulp lemonade like a dehydrated man before it almost comes back up, a whole-body shudder rolling through me.

“It tastes like seaweed water,” I somehow choke out.

Setting her drink on a nearby high top, Ever pulls out her phone and says, “Yeah.” Her expression matches how my taste buds now feel. “It’s not good.”

“Why do you drink it?”

“I don’t. Matcha’s disgusting and I hate citrus,” she says without looking up.

“Why do you order it at all?”

“Because that’s what the clones like to drink. It’s the moment.” The last sentence is said with a tone meant to imitate the clones but sounds similar to how Ever spoke with them this morning.

“But why doyouhave to order it?”

“If I don’t…” Her eyes lift to mine. “…then they won’t.”

I think back to their conversation this morning, the bits I actually paid attention to. It’s true. Ever’s their leader. They rely on her for everything.

“Even when they’re not with you?”

She fans her fingers out around us, at all the eyes aimed our way. “I’m always on duty here.”

That cashier didn’t even ask Ever what she wanted, didn’t even give her the opportunity to say, just assumed.

“If you weren’t, what would you order?”

“Doesn’t matter because I am.”

“Red peppermint mocha? Lavender…uh…cappuccino?”

Her head shakes as she tries to hold back a smile. I release mine though. I don’t know all the names.

“Come on. If we’re gonna start over, you gotta let me get to know you a little bit.”

Even focused on her phone again, I catch her rolling her eyes, but she says, “Iced chai latte with almond milk and three pumps of pumpkin brown sugar.”

I seek it out on the menu board. The chai latte is one of the few options with a picture next to it. I examine the green liquid in our cups, an idea forming.

“How long have you known the clones?” I ask her.

“Since preschool. Except Paris. She moved here in middle school.”

“None of them have figured out you hate citrus yet?”

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