Page 30 of Styx & Stones

I scoff. “You’re such a dick.”

“You may have noticed that some of us are trying to watch this totally shit show you’ve put on.”

“Hey,” I complain. “Riverdale is not a shit show.”

“Come on, this Jughead guy is homeless, and yet he somehow mysteriously owns a perfectly tailored suit?” Styx leans forward and grabs the bowl of popcorn, resting it in his lap. He shoves a meaty fist into it and tosses several pieces in his mouth.

“You leave Jughead out of this.” I turn my gaze back to the camera and say, “What do you think, guys? Tell me I’m not alone here and that you get the Jughead love. Are you a Bughead?”

“Oh God, do I even want to know what that is?”

“Just keep watching, loner boy. All will be revealed.” I smile at the camera. “Let me know in the comments if you’re siding with Styx or with me on this one. Heads up, though—Styx is wrong.” I end the live feed and glance at Styx. His eyes are glued to me. I frown and shove his shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing,” he whispers, but he doesn’t take his gaze from my face.

“What?” I grab a handful of popcorn and toss it at him. “What are you staring at?”

“I’m staring at my fucking future, Stones.”

And just like that, he goes back to looking at the TV while I melt into a puddle.

***

The couch beneath meshifts as Styx gets up, and I moan my disapproval. His fingers trace the racing stripes shaved into my hair and I smile. I’m sure I look like a goddamn goober, but I can’t help it. I’m sleep drunk, and for once, my body isn’t weighed down with pain and screaming at me. It’s floating.

“I can’t thank you enough for being there for her,” Mom says. I’d roll my eyes if I wasn’t so tired.

“You don’t need to thank me; she’s helping me just as much. Maybe more.”

“True dat,” I mumble, unable to open my heavy lids. Mom and Styx both laugh quietly.

“Babe, I gotta go. My mom’s here.”

“No. Don’t leave.” I pout. “We still have more episodes of season one to watch.”

“No, they finished an hour ago.”

“Pfft. As if. What the hell were you doing then?”

“Watching you sleep.”

I crack a lid and glare at him. “Like a creeper?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Thanks for a great date.”

I suck up the drool trying to escape my mouth. “Wasn’t a date.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says and opens the front door. “Bye, Mrs. Stone.”

“Bye Styx. Tell your mother I said she’s welcome to drop by for a drink any time.”

“Thanks, I will.” Styx chews his bottom lip and says, “Stones?”

“Mmm?”

“Best date I ever had.”

“Whatever, loner boy. It was the only date you’ve ever had.”

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