Page 21 of Make Them Bleed

Warmth blooms in my chest. “Thanks, Arrow.”

He bumps my knee gently. “Anytime, Final Girl.”

My phone buzzes again, well, Arrow’s phone, actually, because he’s set a reminder for brownie intermission at nine p.m. But it jolts me back to reality. The midnight rendezvous.

I glance at the clock (8:47).

“Hey, Arrow?” My tone aims for casual, but it wobbles instead. “Could we wrap by ten-thirty?”

His face falls a fraction. “Sure. What’s up?”

Guilt stabs me. He deserves honesty. Instead, I add another lie to tonight’s tab. “I promised Mom I’d FaceTime before she crashes.” Half true—Mom does sleep at eleven. It’s the FaceTime that’s fictional.

Arrow nods, and pushes a fresh brownie toward me. “Family first.”

“Arrow?” I blurt, before cowardice wins. “You ever feel like you’re living double lives? Like there’s the version of you your friends see and then…something hidden?”

His gaze sharpens. “Sometimes. Especially lately.”

I swallow. “Is that bad?”

“Depends,” he says quietly. “Secrets can shield people. Or crush them.”

My stomach twists. “How do you know which is which?”

“You don’t.” He scoots closer, voice low. “You just hope the people you love understand why you kept the secret when they finally learn it.”

Love. The word ricochets around my skull. Does he mean friend-love or capital-L, kiss-me-now love?

“Arrow…” My heart is pounding so hard I can hear blood in my ears.

He reaches up, tucks a stray curl behind my ear. His fingertips brush my cheek and suddenly breath is a rumor.

“I think you’ll figure it out, Junebug,” he murmurs. “You always do.”

I lean into his hand without thinking. The air between us vibrates—one tilt of my head and our lips would meet. My brain screams yes, my phone screams buzz buzz buzz.

Reminder: Midnight.

I jerk back. “I—should clean up. Pizza fossilizes if you let it sit.”

Arrow’s hand drops, disappointment flickering across his features before he masks it with a smile. “Sure. I’ll load the dishwasher.”

Together we work in a silence threaded with unspoken things. My heart aches with the weight of them. When the kitchen’s spotless, Arrow checks his watch.

“Ten-thirty,” he says softly. “I should bounce.”

I walk him to the door, hug him goodnight. His hoodie smells like his coastal driftwood soap and ginger beer. I want to keephim here, safe, oblivious. I want to drag him with me, because if the world is dangerous I trust Arrow to swing first. I want too many things.

He releases me, and steps into the hall. “Tomorrow? Bagels?”

“Always.” My smile trembles.

He hesitates. “Get some sleep, Juno.”

“You too.” I shut the door, pressing my forehead against the cool wood, and exhale shakily.

Inside my bedroom I swap leggings for black jeans, denim jacket, and running shoes. Pepper spray. Folder. Heartbreak.