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Hans and Leia—classic.
Romeo and Juliet sat at the top of my list, though. The Baz Luhrmann, Craig Pearce version, of course. Because: Claire and Leo.Ugh. Obsessed. The whole concept was crazy, and I loved it.
Edward and Kim. Forrest and Jenny. Joel and Clementine, Ferris and Sloan, Janet and Brad, Vincent and Mia, Lupin and Tonks. They were all epic movie couples, and there were about a hundred more I could easily think of.
Neil was right, there were far too many options. No way in hell would I ever be able to choose one, so I gave him some of my suggestions and left the rest up to him.
Eighteen, in a nutshell, was weird. I was technically a fully grown adult even though I didn’t feel any different. There wasn’t much I could do now that I hadn’t been able to do before. (I already had my freedom, thanks to Jason being gone and my mom hardly ever being around.) The only thing I could think of was being able to rent a hotel room, but for what?
Still, I was probably going to circle back around to that one, too, just because I could.
So, eighteen was just a formality, really. Another number. And kind of boring if I was being honest. Except for the fireworks show in my kitchen this morning and Neil’s butterflies—literal and metaphorical ones included.
I should’ve thrown a party or something. That’s what any logical, sane eighteen-year-old would’ve done in my situation, but planning for one, and cleaning up after it, sounded like far too much work to me. I preferred crashing parties, not throwing them.
As a result, on my eighteenth birthday (after school was over for the day), it was just me and Syd hanging out in my backyard, swimming. Well, she was swimming. I was lying down, my head hanging upside down over the edge of a pool lounger.
She popped up at the side of the pool where I was and kissed me. I wiped my lips with my middle finger, intentionally flipping her off, and she barked out a laugh.
“You want to order some pizza and go watch a horror movie?” she asked.
“Sure.” I shrugged while still upside down, and we spent the rest of the night doing just that.
Eighteen. It was pretty boring, but it was also kind of perfect.
On the flip side of four days, on Neil’s birthday—okay, don’t laugh—I gave him an origami butterfly, too. I watched, like, a dozen YouTube videos before I could figure it out and murdered at least fifteen of them before I got it right, but when I handed it to him that morning, it was totally worth it.
Like, after the smile he gave me, and the wayhepulledmein for a hug that time? I was headed for my death bed.
Jesus save me.
Chapter 11
All Hallows’ Eve
HALLOWEEN! Finally.
I threw on my black wings and headed outside where Neil was waiting for me, idling at the curb. I easily could’ve driven myself, but this opportunity was far too enticing to pass up.
I wanted to get inside his truck, get inside his world, get inside his head. This was a great place to start—if not for the fact that I was literally about to get inside his truck.
Pausing in front of his passenger door, I spun around on the balls of my feet. Black dress, black wings, black hair, black boots. Neil chose Romeo and Juliet, but the dead version. Not a fake blood, makeup gash on the side of my face, kind of dead. But a pale-toned, dark hollows around the eyes and cheekbones version I thought looked really cool. So instead of the white dress and angel wings Juliet sported at the Capulet’s party, I went with black.
I opened the door to his truck and slid in. I had to maneuver the seat belt around my wings, but it worked out in my favor; I didn’t feel like taking them off and having to put them back on again—the epitome of laziness, really.
Neil’s eyes were already on mine when I looked up at him. I gave him a head-to-toe scan, starting at the top with his perfectly styled hair and traveling down to his dark shoes before climbing back up again.
“You look good in armor, Neil,” I said. He did look good. Whether it was the costume, or the combed back hair, or the way he was looking at me, I wasn’t sure—probably a combination of all three that had my heart doing a familiar dance inside my chest.
“And you look good as an angel of death,” he said, pulling away from my house with a smile.
I did look like an angel of death, and I did look good, in my opinion, but I wasn’t sure if he meant that as a compliment or not. Coming from Neil, I thought it had to be.But was it?Clearly, I was thinking way too hard about it.
“You look really pretty, if I wasn’t clear.” He laughed softly, putting me out of my misery, proving again that he could somehow read my mind. Or, you know, plainly see everything written across my face like I wasn’t bothering to try and hide it.Walls?What were those? “You look like Halloween all wrapped up in a person,” he added—and, okay, that one was definitely a compliment. No matter how he meant it, I was taking it as one. But back to the part about me being pretty. (One point to Neil for smoothness.)
What about me did he think was pretty? I wanted to ask the question badly, probably more than I would’ve liked to admit, but that would’ve given too much away. I turned my attention to him instead. His armor was dead-on. Chain mail shirt, spaulders covering his arms from shoulders to wrists. He did a good job with his makeup, too. The hollows of his features were contoured with a dark gray perfectly. And his hair. (Ugh. His hair.) It was definitely the best part of the whole ensemble. It was combed back, but not neat and tidy like I would’ve expected. There was a carelessness about it that I was into.Super into.
“Thanks, Neil,” I replied with a subtle breath. “You look pretty dapper yourself.” Yep,dapper.That is the word I chose to go with.What a moron.Neil made me stupid—officially. But whatever. Dapper suited him. I was going with dapper, and I was owning it. “Anyway,” I continued on. “What time do you have to be home tonight?”