Page 41 of Bring Me Your Midnight

“What kind of perfume were you making back at the shop? I haven’t seen that combination before,” Ivy says, and my cheeks flush. I don’t say anything and stare intently at the dirt path in front of me.

“What?” Ivy asks.

“It’s nothing,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “Just a small token for Wolfe.”

Ivy stops and raises an eyebrow. “Wolfe?”

“The boy I met on the beach.”

“So he has a name,” she says, a slight pull to her lips.

“Of course he has a name.”

She holds her hands up in defense, and we start walking again.

“What kind of token are you making?”

Embarrassment makes me look away again. “A cologne made from scents of our night together.”

“Oh, Tana,” Ivy says, her voice sad. “That’s a lovely gift. But it’s…” She struggles to find the right word.

“Do you think it’s too much? I’m not really sure what the etiquette is on thank-you gifts.”

Ivy shakes her head, then looks me in the eye. “I think it’s dangerous.”

The words make my heart race, make dread stir in my stomach, and I force the feeling away and keep my voice even. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Ivy doesn’t seem fazed, and she loops her arm through mine.

“This boy could break your heart,” she says.

“Break my heart?” I ask, laughing. “It’s just a gift.”

“Is it?” she asks.

“Of course.” I want to tell Ivy that he saved my life, that giving him something in return is the least I can do.

We’re both quiet for a while, the sounds of our footfalls on the soft earth and the leaves rustling in the autumn breeze filling the air between us.

“You want him to remember you,” Ivy says, looking at me with a mix of pity and understanding and sadness, and it frustrates me, seeing those things reflected back at me. I’m stung by her words because it’s such a ridiculous thing, but the way my face heats when she says them tells me she’s right. She’s right, and I hate it.

“You don’t need to ascribe meaning where there is none,” Isay, defensiveness rising inside me. “He helped me with something, and I just want to say thank you. That’s all.”

Ivy watches me, considering my words. “How will you even find him?”

“He told me the next time he’ll be on the island,” I lie, and I’m disgusted by how easily it rolls off my tongue.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she finally says. I’m about to argue when she speaks again. “But you clearly haven’t moved on from this, and seeing him once more might give you the closure you need.”

“I don’t need closure,” I say.

“Then why do you want to see him?”

I sigh, and Ivy wraps her arm around my shoulders, leaning her head against mine. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need closure.

“Listen, if you want to give him a gift, give him a gift. Say whatever it is you need to say, then never see him again.”

“You’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it is,” I say, needing the words to be true.