Page 171 of Pretty Poisoned

With Luca, that part can be loud. I love him for it. I need him for it because that part would die again without him, and then I wouldn't be me anymore. I'd be small again.

But Declan is my port in the storm. He isn't broken like Luca; he's like me. And we were born this way.

I set my bag on the bed, contemplating what to pack. And I laugh when I realize I don't really need anything—nothing except for my family.

"What's funny?" River asks.

"Nothing," I tell her. "I just realized I don't need anything except for you guys."

"Hoard food," Hazel says. "You know we have to feed Riv every ninety minutes, or she gets cranky."

"It's true," River says. "And I'm already fucking starving."

"Let's go eat then," Hazel says, throwing her backpack over her shoulder.

"This will be fine, guys. It'll be an adventure," River says.

"Yeah," I tell her, smiling because that's the first time she's sounded like herself since last night. "I think so, too."

As they leave the room, Luca walks in carrying his guitar.

"You're taking that?" I ask. "You only have one good arm."

"Nah, I can't take it," he says. He pulls the sling over his head and then sits at the edge of the bed with his guitar in his lap. "Hopefully, I'll see it again soon, though. I think maybe it'd be easier to actually leave my fucking arm on the bus."

"You will," I tell him before sitting beside him. "Of course you will."

"I've been working on your song, though. I wanted to play it for you—because I don't know when I'll get a chance to do it again. I'm still working on it—I was hoping I'd get to play it for you at the last show in Chicago as a surprise. I'd get to watch you hear it for the first time and see the look on your face when you realize that it's about you. But…now you already know."

"I'm nervous," I say softly.

He smiles as he strums the strings. "Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

But I do know. It's not because I'm worried that I won't like it or anything like that. It's the intimacy of it. And that's still something I'm getting used to. True intimacy still fits me like one of Luca's hoodies. It's warm, it feels good against my skin, and it's intoxicating when I breathe it in. But when I put it on, I'm drowning in it. If I wore it in public, they'd all be able to see that it didn't belong to me. And I'm still afraid to get too attached to it because, eventually, he might take it back.

"Ready?" he asks. "I can't sing as well as Declan."

"I guess so," I say. I pull my own hoodie over my head and bring my knees to my chest.

He shakes his head. "Now you're making me fucking nervous."

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "What's it called?"

"'Pretty Poisoned,'" he says.

I rest my head on my knees. "Proceed."

It was ordinary enough

You didn’t think it’d go this far

Two normal-looking people

In a normal-looking bar

But one was an addict

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