Page 60 of Even in the Dark

“I’ve never read a comic before, so I have no idea what I’m into.”

“Well, probably not dark. So, you could try—”

“I might like dark.”

The look I give her tells her I think she’s way off base.

“I have a dark side.”

“I’ll bet.” I smirk. Because, on second thought, I’m sure she does.

“What’s your favorite?” she asks, ignoring my dig. She’s thumbing through one of the stacks again.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“A lot of stuff.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh my God… you’re impossible.” She turns to me again. “Okay, say you were going to be stranded on your own somewhere for a few days—like on an island or in a totally empty room or whatever—and you could only bring one comic. Which one would it be?”

It's a hypothetical question for her. For me, it's not. Which is why I can rattle the answer off on a dime. It’s as ingrained in my head as the number of hands’ width the closet was. The right angle to tilt my finger to lift the loose cushion flooring tile.

“Sleepwalker.”

I walk over until I’m beside her. As close as we are when we’re in her little red convertible. Possibly closer.Feelscloser. I can smell her perfume. Not strong and not flowery like Diane’s. More like something sweet. Like vanilla.

I thumb through one of the stacks, and she has to help me because of the stupid cast. I pull out a few issues until I find the one I’m looking for. “This is the launch issue.” I hand it to her. We both stand there for a second, each holding an end, like some cheesy moment in a dumb commercial or something. “You’re not gonna like it,” I tell her again. Not just to break up whatever the hell weird moment that was, but because it’s true—she’s not the kind of person who will getSleepwalker.Or any comic. I don’t understand why she even asked to read one. I’m still trying to convince myself letting her read this one issue isn’t somehow taking a step closer to whatever trap she’s setting for me.

She shrugs. “You’re probably right. I’ll probably hate it.” Her hair brushes against my arm when she turns, and it’s so fucking soft. Think maybe it’s her hair that smells like vanilla. She heads back to the chair and plops herself down again. Kicks off her freakin’ boots, like she’s settling in for the night. And starts reading.

I stay in the same spot by the bookshelf. Watch as she rests the issue carefully in her lap, studying the cover.

“This is from nineteen-ninety-one?”

“Yeah.”

She brushes her fingers across the issue date. Her hands look smooth and fragile. Seems to me it’s probably deceiving. A trick. The same way a hedgehog looks cute but could skewer you with its quills in a heartbeat.

“Is it worth a lot of money or anything?”

“No. Maybe fifteen bucks.”

“Huh.” She flips to the first page, lightly pinching the bottom corner between her polished thumb and index finger, like she’s scared she might tear it or something. Never seen anyone read a comic so gracefully before. Shit, this girl is classy even when she’s reading fucking comics.

She glances up at me. Gets this kind of sly look on her face. Squints one eye. “Dylan Braun… Are you looking at my crotch?”

Pretty sure my eyes bug out of my head.What the—

Then she laughs. “Kidding… Geez.”

Got it. She’s making a joke—because of the way I accused her of looking at my crotch that time.

Shit. I wonder if this is how she felt when I said that?

I clear my throat. Swallow, because my mouth feels really dry all of a sudden. Then I head back over to the bed. Get settled with my back against the hundred and one pillows Diane insists “pull the room together.” Whatever the hell that means. I pick up the comic I was reading—Moon Knight—and flip to the spot I was at when Scarlett showed up at my door un-announced. Still can’t focus on the words, though. Or the images. Any of it. Too aware of Scarlett sitting a few feet away, reading one of my comics.

How the hell did my night gethere?

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