Page 94 of Inbetweeners
Emmett shrugged. “No idea. But everyone was stabbed.”
“True. And Greyson keeps his knife.”
Emmett nodded. “So it’s likely to the be one he used on me. Maybe there’s something special about it. Something that stops people moving straight on to Heaven or Hell so he has the chance to persuade the inbetweener to go with him.”
“That’s an interesting thought.”
“I do have them occasionally.”
Phoenix smiled.
“Will you tell me how you died?” Emmett asked.
The smile disappeared. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to think about it for the same reason you chose not to remember your life. Now leave it.”
Emmett flinched at the snap, then ate a few more forkfuls of the risotto. He still couldn’t remember the car crash that had claimed his life. Did he want to? Yeah, he did. Had it really been his fault as his parents had implied? Had anyone else been hurt?
Maybe he was being unreasonable expecting Phoenix to talk about his death. Though he could use Google now to look up his own demise and that of Phoenix. Googlingdeath of a Thames lifeboat crew memberwould almost definitely reveal something. But… It was a big but. Emmett wasn’t going to look. Phoenix would feel it was a betrayal and Emmett didn’t want to piss him off. And he wasn’t going to look up his own death because he didn’t need to be reminded of how little he was missed. All he’d have to do was read some barbed comment by his parents, and Emmett would slide down into his hole.
If there was a reward for doing this job well, he’d ask if he could just not…beanymore, that he could turn back into the stardust from which he was made. And if that wasn’t possible, then perhaps there was one thing hecoulddo for Phoenix. Ask for him to be given a second chance. Thinking about someone other than himself was a step towards being a better person, right? Imagining Phoenix fucking him didn’t make him a bad person, did it?
Emmett tipped what remained of his food into the wastebin. He wrote a thank-you note to Harry and Rashid, and left Phoenix watching the TV. After he’d showered, he lay in bed reading. He couldn’t go to sleep until he’d chained Phoenix up. The bedroom door was ajar because he hoped Cat might come and keep him company since Phoenix wasn’t interested, but it seemed he preferred Phoenix. What a surprise.
His mind kept wandering away from the gentle mannered Count Rostov stuck in the Moscow hotel, to his own situation. The count had made the best he could of the life he had. Emmett hadn’t made the best of his life. He’d failed on so many levels he was amazed he’d been chosen to come back. But then this wasn’t a reward.
He was a miserable, introverted, unfriendly guy. He wouldn’t want to be his friend. He wished he was more like the Count, who seemed to be able to make friends with everyone, but maybe leopards couldn’t change their spots. He’d had a chance to make a friend of Phoenix, but all he seemed to do was piss the guy off. Emmett had told him stuff he’d never told anyone else and Phoenix hadn’t given him anything in return. Well, except for telling him he’d killed his parents.Wasn’t that big enough?He guessed it was.Why am I so down again?
Emmett heard Harry and Rashid come back and found himself giving a sigh of relief. He heard the three of them chatting, then laughing together and felt even more on the outside of things. All he had to do was get up and join them. Instead, he lay and sulked.
Eventually, Phoenix came into the bedroom. While he was using the shower, Emmett got off the bed and picked up the chains. Phoenix took a step back when he emerged in his shorts to see Emmett standing waiting.
“Think we should have a word that only we know, so I can tell whether it’s you or Vin I’m talking to?” Emmett asked.
“That’s a good idea.”
“You ought to write it down not say it, just in case he’s watching. And shut your eyes as you’re writing it.”
Phoenix gave a choked laugh, but left the room and came back with pen and paper. He closed his eyes, scribbled something, then handed it to Emmett.
Emmett looked at the paper. Phoenix had writtenMaltesers. He wanted to ask why that word, but that defeated the object of having kept it secret. Emmett screwed up the paper and flushed it.
“’Course we’re assuming Vin can’t read my mind,” Phoenix said when Emmett returned.
“Well, try not to think the word you wroteandthe additional thought—this is my secret word—in the same sentence.”
“Have you ever had a safe word?”
The question hit Emmett like a bullet. “Why would you ask that?”
Phoenix stroked Emmett’s neck. “I just wondered. Were you into BDSM? Can you remember?”
Emmett shook his head. Probably too vehemently, judging by the way Phoenix chuckled. Why couldn’t he remember that, if it had been part of his life? He’d been told he’d remember preferences. Wasn’t that a preference? It was more than likely any interest in BDSM had been confined to watching porn on his laptop.Oh fuck.
“What’s just gone through your head?” Phoenix asked.
