Annie sat cross-legged on the foot of Brenda's cot, eyebrows raised as she watched the girl cross back and forth in front of her.
"I don't know why Newt sent you to me. I have like one dress, and it's not even mine; Veronica gave it to me to wear around Thomas because she's all like, 'Boys like girls who make an effort, Brenda.' But I was like, when have you ever had a boyfriend to make an effort for, Ronnie? And then she cried, so I had to apologize."
Annie couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Based on Newt's story of their first encounter with Brenda, Annie had envisioned someone entirely different—less frilly, more fierce. The Brenda before her was a stark contrast to the girl who once had held a blade threateningly against Minho's throat. Now, Brenda was all enthusiasm, bubbling over with talk of boys, clothes, and anything else that popped into her mind at lightning speed.
Annie allowed herself to become swept up in it, able to forget her troubles. It was a slice of normalcy, a welcome change from the endless days spent only with Newt. Plus, Brenda didn't come with that dirt smell that she had grown accustomed to.
"I know!" Brenda's brown eyes lit up. "Sonya!"
"Huh?"
"Stay here," she commanded. "I'll be back in a minute."
Brenda bounded away, and Annie leaned back, chuckling. Alone now, she observed the space with pleasure. It was like an inverse image of her own tent, which was sparsely filled with little more than medical supplies and a few of Newt's belongings. Annie's eyes swept past the braided rug covering the floor near the cot, then traveled to a wooden dresser with a mirror sitting on top, cracked and with a heavy patina. A green plaid shirt, too oversized for Brenda, hung on the back of a folding chair beside the dresser.
She realized it was probably Thomas's, and a flush of heat crept across her cheeks at the implication.
She cleared her throat, and her eyes fell next to a framed photo on an end table. Brenda stood in the forefront, her hair cut shorter than it was now, with a smile almost like a grimace. A man beamed behind her, his tanned hand resting on her shoulder.
Annie blinked as recognition swept through her.
She uncrossed her legs and was about to inspect the photo closer when the tent flaps opened. Brenda entered with a girl in tow, lanky with a long reddish-blonde braid reaching mid-back.
"Annie," Brenda half-panted, "This is Sonya. Sonya, Annie."
The girl moved forward and held her hand out; Annie stood up off the cot, meeting her halfway.
"Nice to meet you," Sonya said, giving her an easy nod.
"You too," Annie said shyly, staring up at the girl as she shook her hand.
There was no other way to put it—she was gorgeous. Annie pulled her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly hyper-aware of her dingy appearance.
"I hear you're the one who brought Newt back to us," Sonya said, green eyes unblinking as she stared into Annie's. "Thank you."
Annie's mouth parted slightly, taken aback by her solemn tone.
"It was, uh, sort of a joint effort," she said lamely, slipping her hands into her pockets. She turned back to Brenda, mentally trying to shake off the penetrating gaze of the new girl.
"Yeah, she's a hero, blah, blah, blah," Brenda said. "Anyway, Son, like I was saying—the girl doesn't have any clothes besides the ones she's got on. Crap deal, right? I've got a few things for her, but she was hoping we could find a dress for the party."
"You were hoping," Annie corrected.
Brenda shushed her and then looked at Sonya expectantly.
"Sure," the girl said, shrugging her delicate shoulders. "I think I can find something."
"It's really okay if you don't have one," Annie interjected. "I don't want to look out of place."
"You won't," Brenda said. "God, you should see the lengths some of the girls here go to to get the attention of the guys—well, and some of the girls too. It's so desperate. Not that you'll look desperate, I just mean—"
"It'll be fine, is what she's trying to say," Sonya interrupted, smiling encouragingly at Annie. "Back in a minute, then, I guess."
Sonya left the tent, and Brenda stood with her hands on her hips in her wake, smiling excitedly.
"Sweet girl," she said.
"What's her deal?" Annie asked, realizing too late how rude it sounded.
Brenda cocked her head, her smile faltering. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing, sorry, I just felt like... well, she was staring at me."
"Oh, that?" Brenda waved her hand dismissively. "She's been weird ever since she heard Newt was back. I don't know. I think it kind of freaked her out or something."
"Oh. Did she and Newt..." Annie hesitated a moment, fidgeting with the watch on her wrist. "Did they know each other well?
Brenda shrugged. "They might have. I don't know. The guys and girls met later, in the Scorch."
"Oh."
Brenda nodded and briefly pursed her lips. "I can tell by your face you've heard of it."
Annie drew her shoulders up, her chest tightening. "Yeah. Yeah, I've heard of it."
Brenda nodded again and let out a low whistle. "Damned place was hell on earth, but those guys had it worse."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. At least I wasn't a human lab rat. It's a rough game, playing by someone else's rules all the time. Did you know that's where Thomas got shot?"
Annie did know. She knew very well, as she had been one of the medics on the berg who had helped administer the sedative. But she couldn't say this to Brenda—she couldn't say it to anyone—so instead, she just frowned and said nothing.
She returned to the cot and sat down, playing with the quilt covering the thin mattress.
"What about you?" Brenda asked. "I still don't know how you fit into all this. Not that we're not, like, grateful. Thomas is blissed out having Newt back. But I'm sure there's a hell of a story there."
She eyed Annie with curiosity, her arms folded over her chest. Annie's cheeks warmed at the attention, unsure where to begin.
"Uh, it's... complicated," Annie mumbled.
"What, you think I got plans?" Brenda quipped, gesturing to their surroundings with a grin. "Trust me, we've got nothing but time here."
Annie inhaled deeply, avoiding Brenda's gaze. She knew questions would come; she had just hoped it would be later. Not now. Not when she was just making a friend.
"What do you want to know?" Annie asked.
"Everything?" Brenda said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I've been stuck with the same damn people for months. Love them, but God, I could use some fresh news in my life. Let's start simple. Where did you come from? You brought Newt here, so you were in The Last City, right? Did you live there, or were you just passing by?"
"The Last City?"
"Yeah. Oh, well, it wasn't always called that. What was its name? You know, from before... I saw an old sign somewhere..."
"Denver?"
Brenda snapped her fingers. "That's it. Denver."
"Yeah, I lived there."
Brenda nodded. "So you saw the wall, then?"
"Yeah," Annie said. "I was at work when it came down. Saw it all happen outside the window."
Brenda nodded again sympathetically. "Crazy. That must have been a punch in the gut for you. I mean, I didn't even live there, and it blew all of our minds. What'd you do for work?"
"I was a nurse," Annie said. "Am a nurse," she amended.
"That'll come in handy around here," Brenda said. "It seems like some idiot is getting themselves hurt every five minutes out there. I swear, teenage boys shouldn't have anything sharper than a butter knife."
Annie chuckled. "I'll help any way that I can."
Brenda nodded, appreciating the sentiment.
"So, how'd you find Newt, then?" She asked.
Annie's expression turned troubled. She didn't like to think about it, seeing him like that. It was all such a blur in her mind that she could usually put it away. But Brenda looked at her with such interest that she knew she had to dredge it out again.
"Well," she said. "I left work to go home. I didn't live far away. People were running around screaming... I was freaked out. I was almost back to the apartment when I saw something on the sidewalk. I was going to go around it, but... well, it was Newt. Sort of. He looked terrible."
"Yeah," Brenda said, her voice lowering. "Thomas told me."
"I almost left him," she continued, feeling ashamed now. "But then I saw his security uniform, and I thought he might be someone I could trust... someone who could help me. He was our age, and he was all alone—I don't know, I just felt bad for him. Like I should help him."
Annie paused, biting her lip. To that day, she still couldn't say precisely why she did it. She didn't want to tell Brenda that something inside her, something buried deep, had recognized Newt, not just from the screens in the lab, but something more profound. Something familiar. That looking at him, even in his awful state, made her feel safe in a way she hadn't in a long time.
"Anyway," Annie pushed on, brushing away the thoughts with a flick of her hand. "I removed the knife and took him back to my apartment."
Brenda's eyes widened in surprise. "You did what?"
"I know, it was dumb," Annie said, chuckling again. "But it hadn't hit any vital organs, so I knew if I stitched him up it would—"
"No, not the knife," Brenda interrupted, visibly taken aback. "I mean... Thomas told me Newt was, like, beyond. Gone gone. And you're saying you took him back to your apartment?"
Annie paused. "I'm just telling you what happened."
Brenda's eyes narrowed. "Then you're leaving something out," she said. "Because there's no way you're stupid enough to take someone beyond the gone home."
"I'm Immune."
Brenda waved her hand. "That's not what I mean. He got better enough to get out of the city, and a few lousy stitches aren't enough to do it. And I know you didn't drag him here the whole way. Did you find someone to help you?"
Annie opened her mouth a few times to respond, but her tongue felt heavy, and she just looked at Brenda, who stared back at her, studying her as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle.
"No," Annie answered finally. "It was just the two of us."
"Then you're definitely leaving something out," Brenda said, her gaze piercing. "The only thing that could've made Newt better enough to get here is a serum from WICKED. And you'd need some serious connections to get your hands on that. Unless..."
She stared at Annie, and then her mouth parted slightly.
"You're the connection," she said.
Annie's breath caught in her throat as Brenda solved it. Her heart pounded wildly within her, a mix of fear and desperation.
Brenda licked her lips, her arms tightening around herself. "Remind me, Annie, where exactly did you say you worked?"
"I... I didn't," Annie stammered, her confidence rapidly fading.
Brenda's expression hardened, her narrowed eyes displaying a growing distrust.
There she is, Annie thought—there was the girl who had pulled a knife on Minho.
Annie shifted uncomfortably on the cot, realizing she was teetering on the edge of a precipice she might never recover from. She braced for Brenda's inevitable next question, knowing that once she delved into Annie's past with WICKED, there would be no turning back.
"Okay, Brenda, I brought what I could!"
Annie watched as Sonya entered the tent again and let out a quiet sigh of relief at the interruption. The girl had a few items hanging over her arm, and she smiled at the others, oblivious to the change of atmosphere that Annie felt too acutely.
"These should fit you," Sonya said, laying them on the bed behind Annie. "Whichever you like."
Annie stood up and picked through the dresses, trying to hide that her hands were shaking behind a charming yellow chiffon number. But despite the clothes, her mind was hopelessly elsewhere as she felt Brenda's eyes watching her back.
Sonya gave a satisfied hum as Annie absentmindedly held up a blue dress.
"That's the one I liked too," she said. "Do you want to try it on? Make sure it fits?"
"What, here?" Annie asked. She glanced back at Brenda, who stood leaning against the dresser, arms across her chest.
"You don't have to be embarrassed," Brenda said with a glint in her eye. "I mean, unless you have something you want to hide."
Annie shook her head and swallowed, a pang of discomfort growing in her chest. She carefully took off her coat and placed it on the cot before slowly removing her soiled clothes. Sonya had respectfully turned her gaze away, but Annie knew Brenda was still watching her from across the tent.
Despite the palpable tension in the room, Annie couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment as she put on the dress. The cotton material, soft and clean, felt like a luxury, and as she ran her hands down the sides, a smile played on her lips.
"It fits!" Sonya said triumphantly. "And you look sweet in it, too."
Annie felt a warmth blossom toward the girl, and she grinned at her. Behind her, Brenda snorted. When Annie glanced at her, Brenda looked down, pretending to study her nails.
"It's great, thank you, Sonya," Annie said.
She reluctantly slipped out of the dress and back into her own well-worn clothes. The stiff fabric seemed even more unyielding now, speckled with mysterious stains from the past several days. Clutching the dress to her side, she gave a resigned sigh.
"I guess I better start getting ready," she said. "I have so many knots in my hair. It's going to take forever."
Annie moved toward the tent's exit. Sonya smiled warmly and said, "Just let us know if you need anything else, alright? I'm in the tent with the Union Jack out front."
Annie quirked an eyebrow; Sonya didn't even have a trace of a British accent. A fleeting shadow of unease flickered in the recesses of her mind, but she chose to dismiss it for now.
Before leaving, Annie paused by Brenda's side, trying to keep her expression neutral while her heart beat rapidly.
"Thanks for all your help," she said. "Come and find me later. We'll talk?"
Brenda smirked as she looked up, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
Annie took a deep breath as if to steel herself, then stepped out of the tent and back onto the beach.
The water was freezing.
She realized she should have expected it; it's not like there would be a water heater on an island like this. But it still shocked her system, regardless. With a yelp, Annie jumped back and crossed her arms over her chest, swearing at the water. After a few seconds, she took a timid step forward again, trying to acclimate to the cold spray.
It was her first shower in days. Though everyone had been too polite to say anything, she knew she stunk. She grabbed the bar of soap Newt had provided her and rubbed it vigorously over her body, too satisfied watching the dirt run off herself to notice the temperature of the water anymore.
She ran the same soap through her hair—she'd have to get used to that—and closed her eyes as she rinsed it, humming to herself.
The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in, engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin, a nuclear era, but I have no fear...
When she opened them again, her eyes landed on the five scars running down her leg. She shuddered, trying to repress the memory. That had been, as Newt would say, a bloody awful day.
I never felt so much alike, alike, alike, alike...
She turned off the makeshift tap and wrapped a scratchy towel around herself, shivering as her hair made droplets run down her shoulders and back. There was hardly any space to change, but she grabbed the blue dress off a nail in the wall and slipped it over her feet, letting the towel fall. She pulled the straps over her shoulders and turned to look in the small mirror.
She blinked a few times as her mouth formed an oval shape.
She looked like herself, but not the girl she remembered from a few weeks ago. Her soft skin had grown coarser and tauter over newly developed muscles; her hair, usually perfectly put in place, fell in unkempt waves, the roots showing her natural color. The eyes that stared back at her had grown harder, deeper, and more calculating.
I look like them, she thought.
A wave of panic went through her. She was one of them. This was her life now. WICKED—gone. Her home—abandoned. Her mom—dead.
Ava had done everything in her power to keep her separate from this world, and yet, at the end of all things, she had joined them just the same. And it had been her choice.
Her mother would be so disappointed in her.
She shook, and it wasn't from the cold.
"You're alright," she said as a sick feeling settled in her stomach. She went through her mental checklist, which was taught to her many years ago during her third psych evaluation.
"Your name is Antoinette Jeanne Paige; you're nineteen years old, you live at—"
She looked up at the ceiling. Then she began to cry.
Annie walked back to the tent in a daze, unable to shake the mental image of herself in the mirror. Unable to stop ruminating about everything she had been through the past several weeks and how things had changed. How they'd never go back to the way they were.
She pushed aside the flap to the tent but stopped when she saw Newt standing beside his cot, pulling on a fresh pair of pants. She cleared her throat to announce her presence, and he jumped, spinning around.
"Blimey, Annie. Can't you knock?"
She pointed to the flap. "No door." She said dully.
"Right. Well, I'll talk to Gally about getting you your own space. But in the meantime, say something first, would you? Don't just sneak up on a guy, at least not when he's in the middle of putting on his trousers."
"Sorry."
He paused, his eyes becoming hooded as he studied her face.
"You alright?" He asked.
"I'm fine," she said, placing her folded towel on the table and turning her back to Newt. "Just tired."
"I see Brenda found you something to wear," he remarked. "You look nice."
"Thanks," she responded. Then she added carefully, "It's actually Sonya's dress."
Newt paused briefly, and she noticed him nodding from the corner of her eye.
"Sonya," he said, quietly mulling the name over. "Yeah, I remember her."
Annie turned to face him, her face growing warm. "Oh?" She asked.
"Yeah," he replied, looking contemplative. But when he said nothing else, Annie let out a small sigh and turned back around, fidgeting with some cotton swabs.
"What are you doing over there?" Newt asked after a moment.
"Organizing."
"Now?" He chuckled. "The party is about to start. Don't you have something better to do?"
"Like what?" She responded more bitterly than intended. "Hang out with all my friends?"
She heard a noise behind her, and a moment later, she sensed Newt standing close to her.
"Annie," he said, his tone gentle. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied, still pretending to be focused on her task.
"Annie," he said again, more insistently this time.
"Nothing," she repeated, sounding annoyed.
"Annie, look at me," he said firmly.
"No."
She felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder, creating a comforting warmth, and she felt her resolve breaking down instantly. She turned to look at Newt, who stared down at her, his brows furrowed with concern.
"What happened?" he asked. "You weren't like this when you left earlier."
"Nothing," she said, wiping her eyes. "I'm fine."
"So you keep saying. But you don't look it. You don't seem like yourself at all."
She looked up at him, tears pooling, and suddenly pushed his hand away.
"Shit, what did I say?" He asked, raising his hands in defense. "What's wrong, Annie?"
"Nothing!" She paused, biting her lip in frustration as she looked at the ground. "I don't want to ruin your party by upsetting you."
"Forget about the party," he said. "You're more important. Here, sit down." He placed his hand on her back and guided her to the cot.
She sat down next to him, her shoulders slumping.
He looked at her with concern and said, "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, yeah?"
"I know." She began to twirl her hair absentmindedly around her fingers. "It's just... do you ever feel... like..."
"What? Go on."
She gave a little shrug. "Like you've changed? Like you've lost yourself?"
His frown deepened. "What?"
"You know, after everything you've been through. Do you feel like you're still... you?"
"Is that what's bothering you?" He asked. "You reckon you've changed?"
She nodded again, gently. Newt sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then, to her surprise, he laughed.
"Blimey, Annie. I thought something was seriously wrong."
She looked up at him, taken aback.
"Sorry," he corrected himself, clearing his throat. "It's just... you know that I know better than anyone what it's like to not feel like yourself. I mean, you do remember how we met, right?"
Annie involuntarily shuddered next to him. "Of course I do." She paused, a feeling of shame washing over her. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know my situation is nothing compared to what you've been through—"
"Slim it, that's not what I meant," he said gently. "Just listen to me. To answer your question—yeah, after everything, after all the klunk I've been through, I still feel like me. Even though I can't remember my life before the Glade, even though Newt isn't even my real name... I reckon a part of me is still me, you know? He's in there. He's been there all along, and he's here right now. But that's not really the point."
He ran his fingers gently through his shaggy hair and exhaled heavily.
"You know I've always been honest with you, right?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, so you might not like what I'm about to say..."
She tensed beside him and peered into his eyes. He returned her look with a soft warmth, and she found her shoulders relaxing again.
"You have changed," he said frankly. "You're not the same girl I met back in that apartment. And honestly, I'm glad for it."
Her face fell at his unexpected words, and she attempted to stand up, but he grabbed her hand, holding it securely in his own.
"Hear me out," he implored. "In case you've forgotten, when we first met, you had me bound to your couch. You tried to bring a hairdryer with us through a Crank-infested city. You gave away Bliss like it was nothing more than candy. You were a real pain, and I resented you for it. Then I found out who you were, your ties to WICKED... how was I supposed to trust you?"
"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"
He groaned. "Please let me finish," he said. "I've also seen how much you care about people—your compassion. I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you. You're strong, too, stronger than you give yourself credit for. And while I reckon you're still a bit spoiled... I trust you almost as much as I trust myself. You're still the girl who brought me back from the edge and gave me hope. You're still you, Annie. And I will tell you that as often as you need to hear it."
She looked away, biting her lip as her chin quivered. A solitary tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. Newt's heart clenched at the sight of it, and without thinking, he reached out with his free hand and gently wiped it away. Instead of pulling back, his thumb lingered on her soft skin, warmth spreading across her face in response to his touch.
When she turned to look at him, he swallowed thickly, feeling his breath catch in his throat.
"Annie," he said, his voice deepening.
Their eyes met, and time seemed to stand still. Annie glanced down as his grip tightened on her hand, their fingers still intertwined. When she looked up again, she realized the space between them had shrunk as Newt drew closer to her.
It felt like an eternity passed in those next few seconds. Newt hesitated, his forehead hovering just inches from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, hear his uneven breathing. He brushed his fingertips along her jaw with a feather-light touch, and she shivered.
"Is this okay?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Annie nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into his touch.
She felt him take her into his arms, and in that moment, clarity washed over her, dispelling the confusion and doubt that had clouded her mind. She was no longer that scared little girl in the mirror, lost and unsure of what the future held. For the first time in a long time, she knew exactly what she wanted.
And what she wanted was Newt.
"Whoa, what's going on here?"
Annie flinched, eyes snapping open just in time to see Newt jerk back from her. She felt a rush of cold as he dropped her hand and stood up, running a hand through his hair as he faced Minho, who was smirking from just inside the tent flap.
"Looks like you've got your own party going," Minho said, sipping from his cup. "Sorry to interrupt."
Newt raked his hand through his hair. "Don't any of you shanks knock around here?"
Minho snickered into his drink, his eyes bright with mirth. "No door. But if you want, I can hang a sock on the—"
Newt grabbed the nearest thing to him and threw it at Minho, which was, fortunately for Minho, the packet of cotton swabs. He let them hit him in the chest and then drained his drink, laughing after he swallowed the bitter liquid.
"You want to be alone. Okay. I can take a hint. Just remember this party is for you, Newt, so come up for air and join the rest of us at some point."
Minho winked, backing out of the tent. The flap closed, and they heard him laugh again, then the sound of him crumpling his cup.
"Wanker," Newt muttered, face flushed. He stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing the tent's flap. "We should probably get to the party before he runs his mouth."
Annie wanted to ask Newt what Minho would tell, considering nothing had actually happened. But instead, she remained quiet and tried to look casual as Newt turned back to her.
"You ready to go?" He asked impatiently.
"In a minute," she said, getting up from her seat. She smoothed out her dress and ran her fingers through her hair before tucking it behind her ears. She stepped into her boots, well-worn now, and tied the laces. As she stood up again, Newt's gaze softened.
"It's cold out there," he said, walking towards his bag. "Why don't you take this?"
He took out his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders, gently wrapping it around her. His hands lingered on her arms, rubbing them up and down absentmindedly, and he paused, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something.
"Listen, Annie—"
"You don't have to say anything, Newt."
He looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded.
"Alright."
Annie felt a twinge of disappointment but plastered on a smile. She tucked her hands into the jacket pockets and was about to follow Newt when she paused, feeling something papery in her right hand.
"What's this?" She asked, pulling out the object that hadn't been there before.
Newt turned around to see what she was talking about, and when he saw the paper, his eyes widened, and a smile crept across his face.
"I forgot!" He exclaimed, hurrying back over to her. She looked up at him with confusion, but he snatched the paper out of her hand, balling his hand into a fist over it.
"It's for you," he said with a gleam in his eye. "Hold out your hand again. I want to give it to you."
"What is it?" She asked.
"Just hold out your hand."
She narrowed her eyes at him but did as he said. A moment later, his hand unfurled on hers ceremoniously, and she felt the light object drop onto her palm.
"Open it." He ordered, watching her expectantly.
"You're so weird," Annie muttered, but she gently unfolded the paper nonetheless. The sound of something metallic reached her ears, and she peered down at her hand. She gasped before her eyes widened.
"Are these...?"
"Yep."
He grinned down at her, apparently receiving the reaction he had desired.
"I thought you threw these out..." she mused, looking at her hand in wonder.
"I did, but then I stuffed them into my bag. I could tell they were important to you. When I emptied my bag earlier, I found them and put them in that pocket. Sorry, guess I forgot."
She held up the dangly earrings she hadn't seen since leaving her apartment.
"These were my mom's..." she began, her voice sounding far away, even to herself. "I can't believe this."
"So, you're happy then?" He asked.
"I'm..." She reluctantly shifted her gaze from the earrings and looked up at him. "I'm thrilled. You have no idea what this means to me."
"I had hoped it would make up for your missing stuff..."
He looked at her, uncertain, and she smiled.
"Consider it made up for," she confirmed.
He grinned. "Good that. Well, go on."
She obliged, taking the backing off the earrings, putting the posts through her ears, and securing them in place.
"How do they look?" She asked, turning her head from side to side.
"Pretty," he said, his gaze never leaving hers. "They suit you."
She felt heat creep over her cheeks, and she shook her head slightly as if coming out of a daze.
"Thank you again," she said. "Between these earrings and Sonya's dress, I feel somewhat like myself again."
With a warm smile, he extended his hand. "Ready?" He asked.
She placed her hand in his and smiled back. "I am."
He gave her hand a squeeze, but she suddenly paused, remembering her conversation with Brenda.
She looked up at him, eyes rounded, and said, "I want you to promise me something before we go."
"Anything," he replied.
"Promise me that you won't abandon me as soon as we get there?"
"Promise," he said. "As long as you promise me something, too?"
She cocked her head at him. "What?"
"If anyone offers you one of Frypan's homemade drinks, just say no. Trust me."