Chapter Eight — Achilles' Heel

Pip was still pissed off about it hours later. I didn't think it was such a big deal, really. I was completely over it by the time I'd finished breakfast; Pip wouldn't even stay in the buffet hall with me. He stormed out furiously the moment I let his wrist go, which I'd had to grab to keep him from chasing after his little friend... Sara, wasn't it? I was actually amazed at how indignant he was over the situation. I was watching the five o'clock news and he was still fuming.

"I don't even understand why you did it!" he raged for the thousandth time. Annoyed, I turned up the volume on the television set. "I mean, surely you weren't jealous!"

"Oh, I was," I replied dully, raising the volume a few more bars and realizing that it wouldn't go up any further. "You know how I get, darling... I just can't stand it when you get that close to anyone but me." Pip groaned and stomped over towards me, wrestling the remote out of my hands and drawing a cry of surprise on my part. He flipped the TV off and threw the remote halfway across the room, kicking me in the shin when I made to get up and retrieve it. "OW!"

"Don't you think you owe me some sort of explanation?" I glared at him and rubbed my leg.

"Isn't it punishment enough that I've had to listen to you bitch about it the entire day? Christ, if I'd known you were going to be such a pussy about it, I wouldn't have said anything in the first place."

"You shouldn't have said anything!" he snapped heatedly, angry pink blotches coloring his cheeks. "What sort of threat could she possibly have posed to you? In case you had any doubt, I wasn't standing there explaining to her that you were the embodiment of the antichrist and that I needed her alliance to head off your reign of chaos." I thought that was witty of him and smiled despite the pain.

"You can never be too careful about that sort of thing."

"Oh, blow it out your ass!" He turned bitterly and resumed his pacing, which he'd been at for the last hour and a half while I watched TV in the background. I might have resumed my half of the exercise, too, if there were anything to watch but a blank screen. "You had absolutely no reason to run her off like that except to humiliate me, and I'm not sure why you're so annoyed now, because you certainly succeeded!"

"You can't get involved with anyone when you live like this," I tried to explain to him, my voice exhausted. I leaned back onto the bed to avoid looking at him, because doing so was giving me a headache. He laughed as though the response were funny.

"And that justifies going up to some girl I'm having a completely harmless conversation with and announcing loudly that my boyfriend has been looking for me all night – and that you're not going to cover my ass anymore if I keep scamming on him with random chicks?" I snickered because I absolutely could not help myself.

"I thought the story would be more effective if it were a guy instead of a girl. When you swing both ways, everyone's a target."

"You're unbelievable!" He emphasized the point with a dramatic sigh, which I know he only did for my benefit, because no one on earth could really need to exhale that much air in one breath. "She hit me. She actually hit me!"

I didn't need to be reminded; I was still savoring that particular memory. Even at the time, it had been almost impossible to keep a straight face. It was one thing to waltz up to Pip with an angry monologue that hardly required acting, but it was another thing entirely to watch the red-faced girl he'd just been cozying up to turn on him with an angry slap and not laugh. It had definitely appeased the vindictive streak in me. "Well, I would've been pissed off, too."

"Maybe if I'd actually done something!" he shouted. I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him and noticed that he was tugging angrily at his hair, which perturbed me. I wanted to tell him to quit it, but I didn't know if he'd appreciate the fact that I was more concerned about his hair than I was about him.

"You showed her your scar," I noted shortly, though that wasn't exactly an answer to his statement. He stopped to stare at me with a baffled expression, but at least he quit pulling at his hair.

"So what? I didn't tell her how I got it."

"What did you tell her?" I genuinely wanted to hear his answer. We'd never discussed this. With the television on to engage my interest, I'd had no real reason to listen or respond to any of Pip's ranting.

Pip shrugged indifferently. "I told her I got into a fight."

"Isn't that how you got it?"

"I didn't say anything about you."

"Naturally." I leaned back again, trying not to care if he pulled all his hair out. "It's not like it would've mattered, anyway; the chick doesn't know who I am. What matters is that you pulled a pity card on some girl you can't take with you, some girl you can't even explain what you're doing at this hotel to. It's obvious that you still don't know how to handle this sort of life, Pip; I doubt you have a story. What were you going to do if she asked? Most girls needs some sort of reassurance before they put out."

"Nothing happened!" he growled, frustrated. I raised my eyebrows at the ceiling.

"But would something have happened if I hadn't shown up?" I heard him pause, take a breath, then walk over toward my bed. With his hands on his hips and a frown on his face, he bent down over me, making it impossible to look away.

"Nothing. Happened." His tone was unusually firm. "And I don't see why you'd care otherwise." I huffed disdainfully to let him know that there was perfectly logical reasoning behind my actions and that they'd had nothing to do with jealousy, which was what he seemed to be getting at.

"I don't want you getting me into trouble, alright? I'm not slimy enough that I'll leave you behind without remorse, but if you don't give me any other option..." I trailed off there, then added as some final sort of clarification, "I value my ass above yours." He rolled his eyes and shoved me, which had absolutely no effect as I was already lying down.

"So, what, did you think I was going to fuck her right there in the buffet hall, draw the attention of several security guards and government personnel, then scream out your name and location in a moment of passion?" When he said it like that, I couldn't help feeling stupid, and it must've shown on my face, because he smiled victoriously afterward... but I knew I was right and wasn't about to let him take that assuredness away from me.

"You can't get involved with anyone, Pip. It doesn't matter how meaningless you think the relationship is; every time you let your guard down because of a pretty face, you open yourself up to actual affection. Tell me what the fuck I'm supposed to do if you actually fall for someone you're willing to jeopardize our safety for, someone you discover you want to tell the truth to. A bleeding heart like yours is bound to slip up like that, and frankly, I'd rather not have to kill some girl you have genuine feelings for just to save my own ass. I might've fucked with you a little, but I didn't run that girl off just for the thrill of it." He didn't seem consoled.

"Couldn't you have just... told me this?" I shrugged nonchalantly.

"I needed the laugh."

"You're an asshole." I cracked a grin at him which made him go a bashful shade of red.

"Not me."

"Of course not," he laughed sarcastically, straightening up and walking out of my line of vision. It felt strangely empty in the room without him looming angrily over me. "You ditch me to go hang out... wherever the hell you disappeared to last night... leave me all alone in the room for the good part of the morning... wait until I finally find someone to keep me company, then completely humiliate me in front of her... and you do it all to spare my feelings." He chuckled to himself. "You're really a great guy, huh?"

"Incredible." I wondered how sarcastic I was being. My explanation had been honest. So I'd had some fun at his expense... one way or another, I would've had to get rid of that girl. Would it have been any less cruel to let them get close before having to suddenly part without any explanation he could possibly give to her? "I'm the best friend you'll ever have."

He ignored my comment. "Where did you go last night? I panicked a little when I noticed you weren't here. I checked the closet and everything; I thought maybe you'd left."

Something twisted and self-indulgent in me savored the thought of his worrying whether I'd left him alone in the middle of nowhere, frantically searching the room for signs of me. "I found a bar in town," I answered honestly, seeing no benefit in lying.

"So you went and got drunk." There was a disapproving inflection in his voice that made me grimace.

"No," I said curtly. "I was just moody, and I like the atmosphere in places like that. It's always a great pick-me-up, watching guys too liquored-up to navigate their way past their own bar stool trying to score with chicks too liquored-up to tell the difference." That was honest, too. I'd never liked alcohol; I didn't see the appeal in dumbing yourself down for fun. It did cheer me up to watch others partake in the sport, however.

"What were you moody over?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that one, so I didn't. "Personal shit."

"What kind of 'personal shit' could you possibly have?"

I sat up on the bed to stare at Pip incredulously. He had that usual innocent expression on, like his question had been perfectly within the realm of polite conversation. "Do you think I lived in a cave until I met up with you?" I asked loudly, shaking my head at him with some small degree of wonder. "I'm living in the same world you are, sweetheart, and – as I'm not a vegetable, or whatever the hell you seem to think I am – I've got my own issues with it, too."

"Like what?"

"Like it's none of your goddamn business," I replied in a sing-song tone that made him roll his eyes theatrically. He was so fucking self-righteous I just wanted to smack him.

"You know," he began in a voice that warned me I was in for a preaching, "maybe if you'd talk with someone about what's bothering you instead of just projecting your feelings onto them, you wouldn't be such a jackass." I stared at him in complete awe.

"Thank you, Pip, for those sage words of advice."

"You might try it!" he huffed, pink in the face again. "Watching people humiliate themselves all night obviously didn't cheer you up that much if you had to come right back and humiliate me!"

"Maybe you were the one who was bothering me in the first place."

There was a pregnant silence in which he looked angrily away at the window. "Like I said," he muttered finally. "You're a jackass." Then he walked out of the room, leaving me to wonder briefly what the fuck his problem was before I walked after him, picked up the remote, and turned the television back on.

o o o

There were a lot of things I didn't understand about Damien. For one, I didn't understand why he had broken me out of the hospital in South Park, nursed me back to health while I recovered from said breaking out, then taken me with him on the road... when he was frequently making it clear to me that I annoyed the hell out of him. Nor did I understand what I did to annoy him so much. Granted, the two of us had done our share of rowing since he'd picked me up in Middle Park, but – as far as I could tell – he'd instigated every fight of ours. What I understood the least, however... was what sort of troubling personal life he could lead when he considered me his closest acquaintance and still treated me like a troublesome stranger. Outside the door, where I could hear the television start back up, I fought back embarrassed tears.

For whatever reason, I was attached to him. Maybe it was the fact that in between our aggressive arguing he treated me with something almost like compassion... or maybe I so desperately needed a friend that in my mind that's what I made him out to be. His consistent inconsistency drove me crazy. Despite what he said, I wondered if he really could feel human emotions other than anger and apathy. He was more hot and cold than anyone I'd met, and that included people like Wendy Testaburger and Eric Cartman. Yesterday he'd confessed that I was the first person he'd ever genuinely wanted to be with; I could still feel the heat the words had evoked in my stomach. How... how had I managed to piss him off so spectacularly between then and this morning? Maybe I'd been a bit of a prat about the room, but did that really warrant the scene downstairs? It was bad enough to be spurned by my classmates at home, who'd grown up hating me and couldn't really be expected to change their attitude so late on... but to have some unfamiliar girl – a girl who'd actually been kind to me – turn on me just because of that ridiculous load of crap Damien had come up with... especially when I couldn't understand why he'd done it in the first place... that was awful.

He couldn't understand, I reasoned to myself, walking the length of the hallway because I felt as though Damien could instinctively tell if I were vulnerable nearby and didn't want to give him that satisfaction. Women tripped over themselves around him, and apparently the occasional man, too. He might have been a social leper, but something told me that ever since he'd grown into that body he'd never actually been refused by anyone. He obviously couldn't remember much of his childhood, and it held to reason that he couldn't remember what it was like to be rejected, either. Maybe he really had no idea that it had hurt to be treated so coldly by the first girl since Wendy to see me as an actual human being. That was the only thing that even vaguely made sense to me. The only other explanation was jealousy... and I was out of my mind if I thought Damien would ever be jealous of anyone on my account.

That thought bothered me, and I wondered miserably if I had developed something of a complex over him. Deciding that brooding over the matter was only going to make me feel worse, I ventured downstairs to find a payphone, because right now I needed some mild degree of sanity... even if I had to get it from someone who only knew the meaning of the word because she'd read the dictionary three times over.

I didn't have any money, and I wasn't about to go back up to the room where Damien would only make some smart-ass crack that would end in my punching him in the face. Remembering a bizarre AT&T commercial with Mr. T, I dialed the collect number into a payphone just outside the lobby. I punched in Wendy's number after being politely instructed to do so, and when asked for my name I answered "Annie" in the highest voice I could muster. Having her parents receive a collect call from a missing child could quite quickly escalate into an affair that... well... wasn't in my best interest. Praying that she and Annie had been on good terms recently but weren't actually hanging out together, I crossed my fingers and waited for the call to be accepted. After a few seconds, Wendy's nasal voice came through. "Hello? Annie?" Relief washed over me.

"Hey Wendy," I replied brightly, dropping the accent. I had come to expect just about anything from Wendy, and the bizarre reception I received upon this greeting was no exception.

Her first reaction was to inhale sharply, then stop breathing for several seconds. After she had finished this, she proceeded to pant heavily into the phone while she – judging by the heavy footsteps and creaking wood – raced either up or down the stairs, shut several doors behind her in procession, locked the last with a very loud click, threw something at something else, which sounded as though it could've been a brick at a lamp but probably wasn't, then stopped breathing again. When she recovered, she asked in a voice that began as a whisper but grew rapidly into a shout, "Where the HELL ARE YOU?!"

"I'm not sure, really. Maybe in Kansas. Not any farther than that. It's nice to hear your voice, though."

"Pip... what are you doing?!" she cried, sounding horrified and furious and reproachful all at the same time. "Why are you in Kansas?! Why are you not at home?!"

"Couldn't tell you if I wanted to. Say, are my parents alright?" Wendy made some disbelieving noise in her throat.

"Of course they're not!" she shouted. "Their son has run off to Kansas because he's a complete lunatic! I'm pretty sure they think you're dead!"

"Dead?"

"Dead!" she repeated, the fury in her voice gradually overpowering any of the other aforementioned emotions. "Apparently they received a call Sunday saying you were staying with some suicidal friend, a second call Tuesday saying the situation had worsened and that you were still needed around, and then nothing for two days! No one knows who the fuck your friend is supposed to be – probably because he doesn't exist – but everyone thinks he offed the both of you and that your bodies are frozen somewhere in the Rockies!"

"How morbid. Please inform my parents that I'm neither dead nor frozen in the Rockies."

"Pip, I'm serious... what are you doing?! Why haven't you come back home?"

I took a long breath before delving in, because I knew that my answer was highly unlikely to sit well with Wendy. "I'm with Damien right now." She let out a noise of protest, as if she disagreed with some opinion I was presenting.

"No..."

"Um... yeah, I—"

"No, I mean..." Wendy's voice was incredulous. "I mean, isn't he the reason you were in the hospital to begin with? Isn't he the one who burst your head open?"

Ouch. Awkward. "Uh... yes."

"So... what... did he come to finish you off?"

"No..."

"Decide you were worth ransom?"

"No..."

"What then?" I wondered if she realized how utterly worthless she was making me feel.

"He... he felt bad about the whole thing, and... he came back for me Friday night. I mean, it was miserable there, especially with all the media coverage, so I... left with him."

"You were on an IV!" she objected, as though this were an issue up for debate. "You took yourself off medical support to leave with the guy who put you on it in the first place?"

"I..." I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Look, I can't explain it properly, alright? I know it doesn't sound like it makes sense—"

"Because it doesn't!"

"—but I just... needed to go with him."

There was a long pause on Wendy's end of the line. "And now the two of you are in Kansas."

"I told you, I don't really know where we—"

"Where is he?"

I frowned, taken aback. "What?"

"Where is he?" she repeated, irritated. She sounded like she was three times her age and about to hit me. "He's with you, isn't he?"

"N-not... not right now..."

"Where are you calling from?" I looked about me as if I didn't know.

"A payphone outside the Holiday Inn."

"Christ," she moaned. "Is that where you're staying?"

"Oh... yeah."

"Are you two fuck buddies now or something?"

"Wendy!"

"Sorry." She didn't sound very apologetic, but then Wendy never did. It wasn't in her nature to be wrong. "I just... I just don't understand what's going on right now. I've been worrying myself sick over you. The girls at school think I've got a bad case of PMS because I keep randomly bursting into tears during class... and now you call me up when no one's seen you in a week to tell me that not only do you have no intention of coming home, but you're on the run with a guy who's apparently got more of a track record than Jack the Ripper." That was an eloquent way of putting it, I thought.

"Wendy..."

"I wanted you to find him," she went on, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want you to run away with him."

I couldn't think of a good response to that. With Wendy's voice in my ear, the whole thing seemed absolutely ludicrous. I suppose I'd known that from the start, but now the reality of the fact was drilling away at me, and I felt like such an idiot. "It's just that... I've got... unfinished business with him, you know?"

"Couldn't you just settle it by breaking his nose?" I laughed because I knew she was serious.

"I'd try if I weren't so afraid of getting my head smashed in," I admitted with a smile she couldn't see. "Wendy... please don't be angry with me. Or – if you have to – don't let me know it. This whole thing is... insane, you're right... but I called you because that's sort of what I wanted to hear." She made a mollified noise on her end. "And, look, I'm sorry if I worried you, I really am. You're the only one I could ever talk to about this. I don't want to be causing you any grief. I don't want to be causing anyone grief. Listen..." I cast about awkwardly for the right words. "I want... I want you to tell my parents that I'm okay, but... but just this one time."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you tell them that I'm doing fine every time I call you, they'll start to wonder why I'm not just calling them."

"Oh... Pip..." She sighed demurely, her usual feminine response to having confidence bestowed upon her. "Call me whenever, okay?"

"Okay," I promised, smiling. "But you've got to keep this a secret... please. I know it seems dangerous, but this is something I have to do. You know better than anyone what kind of shit this guy has caused for me. I have to resolve this or it'll keep driving me crazy for the rest of my life."

"I... fine," Wendy agreed reluctantly. "But if things start to look bad, I'll tell everyone what you're up to. So don't fuck up."

"Fair enough."

Wendy drew in a long breath, obviously still unsure exactly how she was supposed to feel. "I don't like this, you know," she said finally. "But I'm glad that you're alright... and I'm glad that you can trust me enough to tell me so. Please... if anything goes wrong... if you ever feel like you're not safe... tell me. I'll be wherever you are in a heartbeat with two plane tickets home."

My cheeks went warmer, but it wasn't uncomfortable this time. "Th-thank you..."

"Don't mention it," she replied, but the warmth in her voice made it clear that she was happy I had. "Anyway, Pip, I have to run... my family's going out for dinner, and it's not the sort of thing I can weasel out of when my mom's involved. Call me any time, alright? But make up a different name than 'Annie,' because she does come around now and then."

"How 'bout 'Sara?'"

"Perfect." She laughed a little to let me know she was smiling. "I'll talk to you later, Pip."

"Alright... see you around. Well, not really, I guess..." She laughed again.

"Bye-bye. Take care."

Click.

I thought then that I could potentially fall in love with Wendy.

o o o

I'd found a health channel that was airing a taping of open-heart surgery and was immensely enjoying myself when Pip came back in, looking to be in much better spirits. I wasn't sure whether I should be relieved or suspicious, but decided that, after all, I was better at being suspicious.

"What are you so cheery about?" He grinned at me, but it was patronizing, and it put a foul taste in my mouth.

"I called up an old friend of mine, who happens to be a lot better for my mental health than you are." I raised my eyebrows and gave him a doubtful look.

"I didn't think you had any friends." I expected the comment to put a serious puncture in his mood, but it seemed to bounce right off him, because his expression never faltered.

"Well, I guess she's more of a close acquaintance," he corrected himself, glancing at the television to see what I was watching and giving it an approving smile. "But she's a sort of confidant of mine. It was on a tip of hers that I found you, as a matter of fact."

That unexpected announcement made my stomach twist up uncomfortably in my abdomen. "What...?"

"Her name's Wendy," he told me with an air of familiarity that I didn't like. If I hadn't known that he knew nothing about manipulating people's feelings, I would've thought he'd done it on purpose. "She's a schoolmate of mine... has been for a long time. She met you, too, though I'm sure you don't remember her." I thought there was something taunting in his voice, but I was probably just imagining it.

"And she was helping you... track me down?" I asked in a weak voice that uncharacteristically betrayed emotion. The fact that Pip had been looking for me never really unnerved me; after what had gone down between us as kids, I understood why my memory might've rubbed him the wrong way. The fact that there had been two of them, however, rearranged the entire situation. If there had been two of them – possibly more – working to find me... I'd become prey. I had only ever been the predator.

"You say it like we were hunting you," he laughed, but that's how I'd meant to say it. "She never really approved of the fact that I spent all my time obsessing over you, honestly... it was actually a sort of weekly ritual of hers to come make fun of me while I pored over phone books in the library. She listened to me when I talked about you, though, even if she didn't like it... so when she heard someone mention a 'Damien' at an arts festival in Middle Park she went to check it out for me. That's the trouble with breaking hearts under the same name, you know."

I was having trouble processing what he was saying. I couldn't quite comprehend the fact that it had been this strange girl – Wendy, not Pip – to finally locate me. "And you told her... everything over the phone tonight?"

"Well," he considered evenly, frowning a little. "I don't know where we are myself, so I couldn't really tell her that... but she knows that I'm with you, if that's what you mean."

"But—"

"Oh!" He smiled suddenly, a look of dawning in his eyes. "I guess she's the girl my bleeding heart would tell the truth to, huh?"

I punched him, because there was no pigtailed girl to do it for me this time.

"Shit!" he yelled from the floor, nose bleeding. "What was that for?!"

"This is supposed to be between the two of us!" I shouted at him, emotions getting the better of me; I could feel my cheeks go red. "There can't be anyone else! Fuck... you never told me about this chick! No one else can know about this! I can't put everything on the line for you if you've got strings attached to you I don't even know about!"

"What's the big deal?" he moaned up at me, pinching the bridge of his nose to slow the blood flow. "She already knows who you are... hell, she was there when you fucked me up."

"What the fuck do I care?!" I yelled, uncomfortably hot. "This is more serious than some finger-pointing name game, alright? I'm in a position where I've had guns to my head, Pip, knives to my throat, and – pardon my French – it's a rather precarious fucking situation. I can handle that shit on my own because that's what I've been raised to do, but this chick knows that the two of us are together! That's too much information for anyone to have! Do you not get how easily someone could exploit that?"

"Wendy isn't going to use me to get at you," Pip muttered coldly. I shook my head impatiently at him, still in a state of disbelief.

"It doesn't have to be Wendy; it doesn't even have to be someone who hears it from Wendy. The principle of the thing is what's important: someone else knows, someone who shouldn't." He was still staring icily up at me, so I rolled my eyes and tried a different approach. "Look, Pip... you're a serious weakness of mine right now, okay? I don't fear for my own life; I can take pretty much anything a mortal can dish out. You, on the other hand, are considerably more susceptible to death, and I don't want to have to expose my identity to save you from it." Pip's hard expression ebbed slowly away to be replaced with narrow-eyed bewilderment.

"Wendy's the only person... I would ever tell..."

"There can't be anyone else," I repeated, ignoring his promise. I looked down angrily, feeling like I'd been lied to somehow. The kid wasn't supposed to have anyone else... I hadn't thought he had anyone else... "You're putting yourself in danger... and apparently I'm the only one who's bothered by that." Pip still looked totally floored, and he seemed to be ignoring the blood that was dripping down his face and onto his shirt.

"You really—?"

"You're so clueless," I laughed humorlessly. "You can't even figure out for yourself that I only get so indignant over you because I care about you, so I'll tell you this flat-out to save you the headache: there can't be any Wendy."

Pip looked like something out of a horror movie, covered in blood and staring up at me from the floor in horrified disbelief. "No... Damien, please, you don't understand! I swear to you, Wendy won't tell anyone... I won't tell anyone! Damien, she's the closest thing I have to a friend... I wouldn't have told her unless I trusted her!"

"So why aren't you with her?" I asked, and I wasn't sure if I was being bitter or genuine. Pip didn't seem to know either, because he had a troubled expression on his face like he didn't know how to answer.

"I don't know," he finally replied in a strange voice. "I guess I should be. Maybe I should even have feelings for her. I mean, maybe I do... but Wendy's not... I mean, she's not someone I'd ever want to spend the whole day with. She's just... my reality check when the day's over." He looked down and took a swipe at his nose with the back of his hand. "Damien... if the only person I can talk to is you, I think I'll go crazy."

The statement was both very insulting and very true at the same time, and he looked so dejected sitting there all drenched in blood that I couldn't help feeling some mild degree of pity for him. "She... she has to be the only one, then." Pip's countenance brightened immediately.

"R-really?"

"Your trust in her had better be justified," I warned him, still resenting the fact that this girl existed. "The moment she becomes a threat to either of us, this little vacation of ours is over. I won't have any trouble leaving you."

"I thought you said you cared about me," he teased shyly, and my response came out in a voice more strangled than I would've liked.

"If I turn my back, I can't see you get hurt."

He smiled in embarrassment at the floor, and it was remarkable how pretty he managed to look with blood all over his mouth and chin. "I... Damien, could...?" He left his question unfinished, so I had no idea what he wanted, except that he reached his hand out timidly as though he were asking permission to touch me. Unable to be sure of this, however, and knowing that my answer would have been "no" if that had in fact been his question, I turned away from him and started towards the balcony to get some fresh air. Before I made it to the door, however, he leaped up off the ground and stumbled over to me, grabbing me from behind. I could feel his rapid heartbeat and the blood on the front of his shirt seeping into the back of mine. His hands latched together about my chest and I wondered self-consciously if he could feel my heartbeat as well.

"Pip—"

"When you can finally trust me," he breathed into my neck, sending shivers down my spine, "I won't need anyone else." I laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"You've got some nerve telling me you're not gay."

"I never said anything of the sort." I wasn't sure whether or not he was joking, but I decided that either way it warranted a laugh, so I did.

"At least you've got good taste."

"Incredible."