Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I’ve never seen him look desperate quite like that.
“I didn’t mean to make you pity me or something, Ollie.”
“Do you have big traditions with your mom on Christmas?” I ask him. “Obligations back home?”
He shakes his head. “We don’t do anything. My mom isn’t really the cozy, touchy-feely, motherly Christmas type, to put it lightly.”
“Then you’re coming home with me. You won’t worry about me, and… and I won’t worry about you.”
“You never should feel worried about me.”
“Well, I won’t. If you’re with me.”
All at once, bright floodlights come on above us.
The main bright lights of the ballroom are back on, so much brighter than the party lights were.
And I wait for the magic to fade.
Wait for the spell that should break, shattering through the snowglobe we’ve been in, with our own little private slow dance.
But it doesn’t.
Because Niko looks at me and nods, acceptance landing on his expression.
“This is a bad idea,” he says softly.
Something urgent sparks in my chest. “Niko, I don’t care if it is.”
“And unnecessary, because whether we’re together or apart for the break, you’re still mine.”
Adrenaline courses through me as he says it.
And whatever spell he had on me is obviously still fully there, without question.
Yours.
Yours until the end of our deal.
Yours until the New Year’s party, and afterward, the spell really will break.
“I know I am,” I tell him, my words coming out a little raspy.
He sighs heavily, closing his eyelids as he tilts his head back for a moment, like he’s trying to summon the will to say what he’s about to say.
“It’s a terrible fucking idea.”
“Please.”
“…and I’m going to come home with you anyway.”
17
Niko
Niko, posting a message on his Camboy account, this morning
Username: Dragonfly
A note for my followers: Sorry that I’ve been missing in action for a while. Real life has been crazy, and I’ve been taking care of very necessary things.
I haven’t forgotten you.
Happy Holidays, Dragonflies. Xx
I should have known what I was getting into when I accepted the offer to come to Oliver’s family home.
My instinct was to tell him no, but then the reality of it slipped in. If I hadn’t gone back with him, I would have been up all night worried about his safety.
These days, it’s harder to be away from him than ever.
And the idea of a vacation from my daily life sounds vitally necessary, right now.
I first notice something different about Oliver when we’re halfway through the road trip, then confirm it once we arrive.
“We’re close,” he says, looking out through the front windshield.
His neighborhood is beautiful. A wealthy suburban residential neighborhood with manicured streets, sprawling two-story homes, and curving roads.
“This is absolutely nothing like what I grew up in,” I tell Oliver.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Very good. When my mom got enough hush money from my dad, she bought a modern glass-and-steel thing that looked more like a cold museum than a home. The front yard was covered in concrete pavers and only small, designated portions of grass.”
“Not exactly cozy vibes.”
“Zero cozy vibes. My mom hates anything that requires any maintenance or care. Grass, plants, animals, her own son.”
“Christ, Niko.”
“This seems like a beautiful place to grow up,” I tell Oliver, looking around and changing the subject away from my childhood. “I can picture kids riding bikes around here, playing hide-and-seek, actually being loved by their parents.”
He puffs out a nervous laugh. “Sprinkle in a lot of social awkwardness on my part, but… yeah. Otherwise, I definitely did do all of that in my childhood. Guilty as charged.”
I reach over and squeeze his thigh.
We pull up outside a house that’s white with navy blue trim on the window shutters.
The front landscaping is lush, with beautiful Japanese maple trees out front and a dusting of snow on the lawn.
We get out of the car and start to walk toward the house, and Oliver nervously tugs at his clothes. He’s in a pale green sweater that fits him tight and makes his eyes look like two goddamn jewels, and as the neckline moves I catch a glimmer of gold around his neck.
“You’re wearing the necklace I got you,” I tell him.
I bring my fingertips to the fine gold chain, so thin it’s barely there. I pull out the small dragonfly charm, running my thumb over it.
“Oh. Yeah,” he says, reaching up to touch it, too. “I put it on this morning.”
He’s fidgety.
He’s actually completely nervous to be bringing me back here.
Earlier, he tried to ask me about what happened when I got hurt a couple of months ago, and again, I managed to push him off of the topic.
I’m just… not ready yet.
Not ready for him to know how empty I was, in that moment.
Why I jumped.
And why I didn’t care if I survived the fall, even if I wasn’t trying to hurt myself.