Page 138 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
It felt as if we were trying to memorize the shape of something we were only just beginning to admit was real.
I parted my lips slightly, and the answering heat from her sent my blood rushing. A quiet moan escaped her, nearly swallowed by the wind.
Jesus.
We broke apart for air, barely an inch between us as we gasped. Her nose brushed mine. Our foreheads touched. The dazed look in her eyes nearly made me laugh.
She trembled.
“You’re shaking,” I whispered as the cool air bit at us. “Do you want my jacket?”
She shook her head, clearly holding back what I was sure was a wide grin. “I’m fine.”
And just because I could, I grinned and leaned back in, pressing a soft, delicate kiss to the corner of her beautiful mouth—tender and slow—before the wind wrapped around us again, growing a little stronger. I squeezed her to me.
“Come on,” I murmured, loosening my hold and taking her hand. “Time to head back.”
She fell into step beside me, her other hand wrapping around my upper arm as we walked, as if she couldn’t get enough of me—enough touch. And for the first time since Margaret died, I didn’t feel alone. That cold bleakness I so often buried and hid behind grins and jokes had faded, just a little.
I felt chosen.
Chosen by something more real than anything I had ever felt before.
I tightened my grip on her hand and spotted Liv waiting by the tram platform, her legs dangling off the railing as she stared out at Albuquerque, pink hair fluttering in the wind.
And I realized I owed her.
Owed her more than I’d ever know.
ELLIS
Tip #21:Fakingit is just rehearsal fordoingit. Keep rehearsing until it counts.
Iliked Albuquerque, I decided as I took my third sip of coffee, adjusting myself on the faded vinyl seat in the diner we were in for breakfast. It wasn’t chic or fancy, but it was comfortable, and the coffee was the best I’d had so far on the route. I was finishing my bowl of fruit, pills had been taken, and we were—shockingly—ahead of schedule for once.
Everything felt safe. Stable.
Dove sat across from me with her legs curled under her, the picture of ease and comfort—even though I was fast learning she very often wasn’t either of those things. Her hair was back up in her space buns, the sight of them endearing—more put together than they usually were. Her lips were curled into a grin as she looked down at her phone, watching my latest upload.
She was wearing an oversized black T-shirt and a pair of shorts, along with her beaten-to-hell Converse. She looked thesame as always, and yet she looked… she looked so different all at once.
Something fluttered too sharply and too fast in my chest, and I nearly choked on the piece of pineapple I’d just plopped into my mouth.
She glanced up and caught me looking, and her smile softened, matching the expression in her eyes as she hit me with that warm, lazy, Dove-filled glow.
I swallowed.
I felt so close to her, and it wasn’t just because of last night—not the things she’d shared with me, not just because of that insanely, mind-numbingly good kiss she’d given me. It was… it was just everything, all at once. And it was as exciting as it was overwhelming.
I glanced at Liv, who was seated beside her, bent over a bunch of sugar packets, brows furrowed in deep concentration as she stacked them into a pyramid, tongue poking out as she focused. It looked like it was leaning slightly to the left, and I made sure not to bump the table as I set down my fork.
Then my phone rang.
The loudness of it pierced the air in a way no one had been ready for, and I jumped—along with Dove, whose curled-up legs smacked into the underside of the table, sending the sugar packets flying as they tumbled from their structure. She hissed.
I looked down at the screen.
Grandad.
