Page 13 of Merrily Ever After
I look carefully over my shoulder to see the fire is dead. The room is cold outside of the little nest we’ve created and one glance out the window shows it’s still dark. The kind of dark where I have absolutely no idea what time it is.
I’m just about to try and go back to sleep when Lara makes a small noise, and I freeze, weirdly nervous as she stirs. Images of her stretching her arms and smiling at me flash through my mind, and I hold my breath as she shifts, eyes blinking open as she peers up …
And screams.
Her yell makes me yell and when she tries to move away, she finds herself trapped by her own blanket as her forehead meets my face.
“Shit!” She scrambles into a sitting position. “Sorry. I’m sorry!”
“’S fine,” I mumble, holding my nose. “Still got those reflexes, I see.”
“I’m used to sleeping alone,” she says apologetically before looking around in confusion. “How the hell did I get down here?”
“That’s what I was wondering,” I say, still a little thickly. “Is your forehead okay?”
She stares at me. “I almost broke your nose and you want to know how my forehead is?”
“Your forehead’s much cuter than my nose,” I say, and again I see it. The same face she made on the stairs. Almost like a wince. “What?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I’ll get the fire.” She eases herself up, moving slowly, almost purposefully, like she’s trying to stop herself from fleeing the room. She has the flames high in no time, though, and I try not to read too much into the fact that she doesn’t return to her spot on the couch. Instead, she nestles back down beside me, crossing her legs under her.
“Still no electricity,” she says.
“No.” I gingerly pat my nose. “We’ll have to do old people things like go for walks and write letters.”
“A stroll around the room?”
“You could read to me while I elegantly recline.”
She smiles a little. “You won’t like the kind of books I read.”
“I liked the ones I tried,” I say, but she just seems confused.
“What ones?”
“On your Great Shelf.”
“On my …” She blinks. “On myGoodreads?”
“That’s the one.” So close.
“You’re on Goodreads?”
“Your account is public. I had a look. I downloaded some. I’m a patron of the arts.”
But instead of looking pleased, she looks incredibly alarmed. “What ones did you read?”
“Uh …” Shit. I rack my brains, trying to remember. “There was a werewolf one. One with a guy with wings. One with a guy with tattoos and wings.”
“Oh my god.”
“An alien guy with tattoos.”
“That’s—”
“Twoalien guys with—”
“Okay.” She holds up a hand.
