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I blink at him, and again, and a third time as I process his dumb words. “Like fuck we can.” I can’t deal with him anymore. I need out of this conversation right now. “I’m going to assume that you flying from my room means the ward is in place?”

He nods, lips parting, but before he can utter a word, I slam the door shut between us, sagging against it as I try to catch my breath.

No one should be that good-looking and so overtly innocent and blasé that it makes them a fucking danger. Swiping a hand down my face, I push up off the wood as a knock sounds from the other side.

Fuck.

He’s not going to make this easy, is he?

With a deep breath, I grab the handle and yank the door open, ready to give him another piece of my mind, but I’m stalled when it’s Flora I find on the other side.

“Hey,” she blurts, nervously looking me over from head to toe. “I’m sorry, I just…do you want to hang out? Do something mind numbing, just…not alone?”

Her question catches me off guard, leaving me to gape at her for what feels like far too long before I nod. I need a distraction, and this might just be it.

TWENTY-FIVE

ADDI

Flora’s bedroom door clicks shut behind me as I nervously glance around her personal space. It’s the mirror image of my room, but it looks completely different, exemplifying the stark contrast between us both.

Her desk is scattered with beauty products, pink curtains drape her windows, and her bed is filled with pillows and a thick throw. Pictures of her with her family hang on her wall, making my heart clench at the reminder that I have none of mine. My room is an empty shell. Hers is all warm and inviting, like she brought a little slice of home here with her.

It doesn’t take much to be girlier than me, but Flora is on another level.

I mean, right now, I’m rocking my gym clothes like a sweaty mess while she’s wearing a cute red summer dress that perfectly complements her auburn hair. Her makeup is natural and fresh, and she just looks way more put together than me. It must be nice, and I almost long for it, but then I’m quickly reminded that the effort she put into all this I save for surviving. It’s as simple as that.

“Get comfy, we’re here for a good time,” she sings, grabbing her laptop from her nightstand and getting comfortable among the array of cushions on her bed. “I have snacks, what do you want?” she asks, pulling a bag out from under the side of her bed the second my butt touches the sheets, and my stomach chooses that moment to growl. Her eyes immediately narrow as she assesses me, pulling the bag of snacks out of reach. “When was the last time you ate? I haven’t seen you in the dining hall since Friday at lunchtime.” I look away with a grimace, which only serves to prove whatever point she’s aiming for. “Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” she promises, launching from the bed to grab her cell phone off her desk.

“What are you doing?” My instinct is to dive up and snatch the device from her hands, but something keeps me rooted to the spot, and thankfully so.

“Calling in a favor with Arlo,” she answers, not looking up as she taps out a message. It chimes a moment later, and she smiles wide as she turns my way. “He’s on the hunt to grab us some cheeseburgers and fries. What do you want to snack on until then?” she offers, approaching with the treat bag again, and I dive my hand in before she changes her mind.

When I pull out my favorite chocolate, I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot. “Thank you,” I murmur, not really sure how to handle her attentiveness, and her smile grows.

“No worries.” She takes a seat beside me, getting comfortable against the headboard, and I follow suit as she places the laptop between us. “Have you seen this?” She points at the screen, and I frown.

“The Office?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” she replies with a snicker, clicking the first episode.

“Do I even want to know what it’s about?”

“It’s a human classic,” she promises, but my unease only heightens.

“You’re not reeling me in.”

She turns to me with her jaw slack and eyes wide. “Wash your mouth. It’s funny as hell, completely mundane in comparison to our hectic lives, and it’s all warm, like a hug. It’s exactly what you need,” she promises, her excitement palpable.

Her passion for it has my argument dying on my tongue. “I’m going to take your word for it.”

“You’re going to find out for yourself,” she states, pressing play, and the opening theme song fills the air.

“Okay.” The show starts up, but I can feel her eyes on me. I try to ignore it, focusing on the screen, but after a few minutes, it’s impossible to avoid. “What?”

“That feels too agreeable for you.”

I cock a brow at her in confusion. “What makes you say that?”