Don't Be Scared - Page 66

“Let’s…tone down the talk of killing,” my mother interrupts. “After last night, are you sure the two of you should be going anywhere?”

I get to my feet with a sigh and Phoenix follows suit. “It’s fine, Mom,” I tell her, grabbing his hand and lacing my fingers with Phoenix’s in case I need to tow him out the door for a grand escape. “It’s not a big deal. Well, Ava’s death is.” The words prickle down my spine, and I swear Phoenix moves closer, as if he can feel it too. “But we’re not doing anything dangerous. We’re going to get breakfast, maybe hang out until Rory wakes up, andnotgo out wandering the town after dark. I promise.”

“I guess I can’t convince you to come home early? You can bring them and we’ll even leave you alone?” My mom half-protests.

“No, you cannot.” I’m already mostly to the door by the time I stop and Phoenix offers them a small wave. “Now we’re leaving. Together. On a date. And I promise, I will call you if I need help.”

“Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Scott,” Phoenix calls in his best good-son voice while I tug him out the door. “It was nice seeing you again.” He remembers the door sticking, and I watch, impressed, as he closes it behind him without much issue.

“It’s weird to see you act like that,” I admit, dropping his hand as we walk down my porch stairs. “All nice and innocent.”

“But I am nice and innocent,” Phoenix purrs, hooking an arm around my shoulders and leaning in to kiss my cheek. “That’s what you like about me.”

“Is it?” My brows jerk up. “Because you weren’t nice and innocent tome. You just made me admit to my parents I’m in a throuple. Or at least, fucking a couple, I don’t know—”

“You’re not just fucking a couple.” Phoenix’s voice is flat, leaving no room for argument. “I wouldn’t do that to you. And since he’s not here, I have no problem telling you that Rory likes you more than he thought he would. I think he’s falling for you, sweetheart.” He nuzzles against my face, leaning me back against his SUV that sits in our driveway to say, “Though how could either of us say no when you take us like you were made just for us, hmm?”

“Fuck.” I have to pull away, and I feel redness on my cheeks as I shake my head. “You can’t say stuff like that in my driveway while the sun is up.”

“Oh, yeah?” he chases my lips to give me a quick kiss, then opens the door for me. “I’ll say it later, then. Is that better? In your bed, after I’ve climbed through your window again so I can hold you down and fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

By the time he’s in the car and my door is closed, I’ve almost managed to calm my body down, reminding her that this is neither the time nor the place to get so worked up.

But then Phoenix smiles at me, his hand brushing my fingers, and all of that work goes straight out the window as I stifle a groan and buckle my seatbelt like a responsible passenger.

“Have you ever been here?” The small restaurant he stops in front of looks new, judging by the paint and the shiny, unblemished sign stating we’ve arrived at The Young Cricket Grill. We’re not in Hollow Bridge anymore, but I’ve been to Ivesborough,the town we’re in now, more than once or twice.

“To this restaurant? No, not in my life. But yeah, I mean. Didn’t you play a lot of soccer here?” Being the closest high school to Hollow Bridge, I’d been dragged along to Phoenix’s soccer games back when he’d played.

He visibly winces at the memory. “Don’t bring that up. I meant the restaurant.”

“Are you embarrassed because you were a great soccer player, or because Daisy and I made signs and stood in the stands screaming your name?”

“More the second,” Phoenix replies, and I realize it’s gotten easier to talk to him about Daisy, like the more I say her name, the less it hurts. If he feels differently, he’s not making it easy for me to see. In fact, whenever I’ve brought her up, he’s been just as into the conversation as me. As if he doesn’t mind talking about her, either.

Maybe it helps him too, like it helps me now.

“But also because I explicitly remember a game where you were standing on the bleachers yelling at some girl, telling her you loved me. Do you remember that?” He peeks at me as we walk into the small building together, and I fight to hide my scoff of indignation.

“I would never. Probably.”

“Oh, you did.” Phoenix snorts. “Daisy had to calm you down. You know you’re not subtle, right? That I’ve known you’ve been into me since you were in second grade?”

“I didn’t have a crush on anyone in second grade,” I demure, shaking my head as we seat ourselves at the hostess’s instruction. Phoenix takes the lead, finding a booth in the corner of the restaurant and sinking down onto the bench. I follow suit automatically, sitting across from him and leaning back so I can look at him as I say, “It was the summer after second that I had decided I was in love with you. I turned down alotof eligible third graders for you. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” he drawls, and his legs inch forward until they’re pressed to mine, one calf trapping mine playfully as his ankle hooks with my own. “And what did you tell all the boys in third grade who wanted to buy you a milk carton, hmm? That you were taken by a fifth grader who you forced to play knights and dragons with you on the weekends?”

“Something like that, for sure,” I agree. It’s hard to remember why I’d been so afraid of him for so long, but easier for me to fall back into the familiarity of being in love with him. “Phoenix?” I scratch at the plastic laminated menu that serves as a placemat, and I feel his eyes on me as he looks up at me from his own. “You’d tell me, right? If you… If this…” God, it’s hard to get my feelings out when they’re embarrassing and complicated.

The waitress saves me momentarily, taking our drink orders and promising to be back in a minute while we finish looking over the menu. Though I know for a fact the delay is on me, and I scan the options while she gets our drinks, hoping to find something that catches my eye.

“You two know what you want?” she asks, setting the drinks down on the small napkins in front of us. “Or do you need another few minutes?”

I can feel Phoenix watching me, waiting for me to say something, but I don’t look at him as my thumb slides over the plastic. “Can I get an omelette with, uh, cheddar cheese, ham, and onions?” I ask, sitting back up as the toe of Phoenix’s shoe rubs lightly against my ankle.

“Sure can, hon,” she agrees, her gaze going to Phoenix. “You want your usual? And for me to bag up your boyfriend’s usual too?” The dark-haired murderer nods, his smile friendly, if not particularly welcoming.

“Thanks,” he tells her, but the woman is already walking away, going behind the counter presumably to take our orders to the chef. I’m pretty sure we won’t be waiting long, since there are only four other tables with people sitting at them, out of the sixteen or so in the restaurant.