Damsel[ed]: No Rescue Required

Chapter 13: Death by Shopping

There isn't much to be said about malls. They're like crosses between museums and labyrinths, with all their sleek white stone and twisty turns. You'd think they were cathedrals built in honor of "cute shoes" or greasy burgers or whatever else it is us consumers love so much.

And here, as Hev, Gats, and I ease into the flurry of activity, I absorb everything: The hip boys in their plaid shirts and ripped jeans holding steaming thermoses of Teavanna. The hip girls in their high heels and leather jackets raising their paper coffee cups in passing like secret club greetings. Many of them wear purple ribbons around their wrists, in their hair, or even shirts that say 'Kiss Me, I'm Galaxy.'

I blink. Galaxy is something of a queen to Starlight, and most girls don her colors like warriors don war paint.

In fact, Heaven's the only girl I know who doesn't. Sometimes I think she doesn't like Galaxy very much, or at least not in the same way the rest of Starlight does.

She stares in shop windows, tugging on her hoodie strings and straying from my side every so often. Gatsby scampers away, smoothing his hair and straightening his collar. I watch him swagger up to a 'Kiss me, I'm Galaxy' girl a few feet away. She has a group around her, two other girls who coo and twitter like garden birds. I watch, almost entranced as the scene plays out. Gats tilts his head to her. "So what's this about you being Galaxy?" he asks.

I cringe, but the girl blushes and lights up like New York City. Of course she does. Gatsby can never come off as creepy, he's just too good looking and British.

They chat - all fluff and compliments - and the girl lets him kiss her on the cheek. I sigh as her entourage bursts into giggles. One of the group looks my way, and they stop. Her expression goes blank, her eyes widening for a split second. I blush and we look at each other for a few minutes. Her green eyes, brown hair. She inches her elbow into her friend's ribs, never taking her eyes off me, as if afraid I'll take off. The other stares at me. My pulse races. I feel like a deer spotted by a hunter.

I lift my hand in a meek wave. They do the same time. I push my hair out of my eyes like I did in front of Cat. Theys sigh.

Oh, so this is flirting? I grin.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but Heaven snatches my wrist and digs her nails into my flesh. I yelp and stumble as she hauls me away. "Ow, ow, ow!" I tear out of her grasp and cradle my wrist. "Why are you going all clingy girlfriend on me?" I ask through gritted teeth. "You're not even—"

She laughs, filling the air with her maniacal cackling. I flinch. "No flirting. Jay already claimed you."

I shoot her the nastiest glare I can muster. "So, what are you? A prison guard?"

"Ay, Hev." Gats jogs to catch us. He latches on to Heaven's other arm and slides to a stop beside her like a runner hitting home plate. "Angel's unfaithful," he says between pants, "you better watch him."

As if. I roll my eyes and clutch my chest. If I knew any Shakespeare, I'd recite it. "My heart belongs to Jaylin, but you don't care about that. You're afraid of the competition, aren't you, shorty?" I say, copying his purr.

Heaven laughs. He pulls away from her and bristles, crossing his arms over his chest as we trek deeper into the maze. "I hate you."

"Love you, too, brother," I say, whistling 'London Bridges'. He whirls in front of me, flipping strands of whitish hair out of his eyes to show his killer glare. I lean forward pat him on the head. His face goes strawberry-red and his gray eyes bug out for half a second. I howl. He slaps my hand away and furiously pats his hair back into place, as if the end of civilization will come if a single strand is out of place.