Nao Summers hates drama, but life becomes full of it when he's paired with the school delinquent on a film project. He's also in dire need of a way to break up with his girlfriend who wants to have lots of sex, while Nao would prefer to die. To crow...
"Do you have your wallet?" My voice sounded higher than usual, and fainter, almost like an echo of the real deal. Axel's head rested on my shoulder, and his hands were grasping my back. I'd never been held like this before, never had to draw my breath through both effort and fear. I had no idea how to act. He wouldn't reply to any of my questions, and the temperature in the room was dropping steadily as the night outside progressed. It was hard to estimate how long we'd been on the floor holding each other, but I knew it was time to go.
"Let's get out of here," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything, but we can't stay." I tightened my grip on his shoulder blade. "It's not safe."
No reply came, but his grip seemed to slacken a bit. His nails weren't digging into my spine anymore.
"C'mon." I struggled into a crouch, tucking my knees up under my chest, and hauled until we were upright. The room spun for one dizzying second, and I fought both gravity and my inherent clumsiness in the process. Axel didn't have the same problem. He stood with his head bowed, but there was no sway in his movements. Standing close like this, our height difference became apparent again. Axel no longer seemed tiny, but his palm was still damp on my shoulder.
"Wallet?" I murmured, looking up at him. He nodded, bangs falling into his eyes. The moonlight revealed flecks of blood on his skin and clothing. My belly twisted at the sight.
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"Destination?" The taxi driver looked over his shoulder, bushy eyebrows raised as he inspected the bewildered teenagers that occupied the back seat of his cab. Were we staining his leather seats with blood and water? Yes. Did we look like we'd narrowly escaped either a freak accident or a murder? Also yes. Did that justify the way he looked at us? A look that clearly suggested we should both be locked into the loony bin for life? I sent him a scowl, clearly signaling that no, I thought not.
"Willow road 16," I said. "It's the second exit off the highway-"
"I do this for a living, boy." The man fiddled with his GPS and turned the engine. He looked at us one final time, distrust evident in every line of his wrinkled face. "You gonna be able to pay for this?"
I frowned. "Yes!"
Axel's money was a blessing. We'd swiped his wallet off the living room floor — hidden under the overturned couch — before getting the hell out of that haunted apartment. The darkness had been more than just a byproduct of an October night — it was steeped in something far more sinister. Every shadow had seemed alive in the moonlight, almost as if they willed us to stay and suffocate with them. I'd locked the door and pocketed Axel's keys without sparing another glance at the scene. Everything was odd and nothing made sense.
Axel's head faced away from me in the cab. He seemed to be looking out the window, studying the streets that raced by, and the drops of rain that slid down the glass. His body was limp, more defeated than relaxed. I wanted to ask him about the windows and his phone, but something killed my questions before they had a chance. Maybe I couldn't do it because I promised he wouldn't have to say anything. Maybe it was because he looked so vulnerable that he might break if I spoke up now. Or maybe it was because Axel's hand was in mine, warm and bruised and close.
