Page 69 of The Last Love Story

I bite my lip, watching him leave. He walks backward, like he can’t bear to lose sight of me. When he reaches the corner, he blows me a kiss, offers me a dazzling smile, and, with a little spin, jogs down the path.

I sigh, pulling open my door and stepping into the dark quiet of my room.

“So,” comes a voice, and I jump. “How’s the ‘saving the world by the power of rhetoric and truth’ going?”

The light next to my bed clicks on, revealing Hux lounging on my bed, boots kicked up and ankles interlocked on the cream coverlet. “Your hair is a little...” He makes a motion formessy, and I know he’s making fun of the kiss he just witnessed through the windows that peer out onto the courtyard. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “I killed the cameras.”

He says it like it’s so easy. Because I suppose everything is easy to him. I fold my arms over my chest and cross the room, keeping my eyes on him. “Better than yourkill everyoneplan, I promise you that,” I spit, dropping my bag into the chair. He lifts something, and it takes me a second to realize it’s a book.

I lunge at him, reaching to snatch it.Dracula.

“Where did you find this?” I hiss.

“Oh, this?” he asks innocently, peering at the cover. Then he drops the smug act, tossing the tome at me. “It was in a shipment that arrived today. Hidden in a box of ridiculously sugary cereal, which I guess everyone in Lyceum knows is something only you would eat.”

I hold the book to my chest. “Count Chocula? Where is it??”

Hux gives me a flat stare. “Craving a late-night sweet treat?” He rolls his eyes. “That was a stupid thing to do, Ripley, given that the other books were taken, and we still don’t know who did it.”

“So you threw the cereal out is what you’re telling me.”

When Hux doesn’t rise to the bait, I look down at the book, gripping the edges like a lifeline. I’m still pissed at Lyceum, but I can’t deny that they know what I need right now. “This is all stupid. Everything we’re doing is risky.” I lift the book. “They know we need to remember what matters.”

“Vampires?” Hux asks flatly.

“You know whatDraculais about?”

Hux crosses his feet and clasps his hands behind his head. “You aren’t the only one who reads, Ripley. I just think that there are things more important than books.”

“I’m not saying that. But I am saying that stories...” I stop, wondering why I’m still talking. He doesn’t care. He’ll probably make fun of me. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Stories what?” he asks, and I look at him, wondering if he’s being cruel, accumulating ammo to throw back in my face during our next argument. But there’s no teasing to his voice.

“Stories have kept me alive,” I admit. “They make me brave when I’m scared and help me remember how good humanity can be. That I’m not... alone. Even if this is about vampires, it’s not really about vampires. It’s about life and right and wrong and people making mistakes and, sometimes, happy endings. I need that, especially when it’s easy to only see the bad stuff we can do.”

I tuck the book away and walk to the vanity, already wishing I could take it back. Oversharing makes me feel like I’m covered in ants, and I hitch up my shoulders, waiting for him to make fun of me for getting all emotional overvampires.

Instead, Hux is silent. As I go about my nighttime routine, removing earrings, kicking off my shoes, even trying to smooth my hair back, Hux only watches, slowly sitting up, his feet reaching the ground.

Part of me wonders if he’ll stay there all night, and to test it, I reach for the strap of my dress, knocking it from my shoulder.

He clears his throat and I freeze.

“What happened on the sub?” he asks quietly, and I shoot him a look as I unclasp my necklace instead. We’re back to where we’re comfortable, not friends, not enemies, but something like allies.

“None of your business.”

Hux stands, then. “You have two days before I order the death of the president and basically start a civil war. It’s my business.”

When I ignore him, turning to the mirror, he makes his way to stand behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. I glare at him as I lower my necklace, letting it clatter softly on the vanity.

“Ripley,” he says, and I feel myself tense at that. I prepare myself for the barbs, for the restatement of our deadline. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

And I feel myself still. I didn’t prepare myself forsoft. It doesn’t sound right coming from him. My eyes fly up to meet his in the glass, and I take in the tight expression on his face. His jaw ticks as he looks at me, and I can’t help but feel like he’s being sincere. I wait a second like I’m expecting a punchline. With Hux, it feels like I’m always waiting for the punchline.

How am I? I press a hand to my chest, like I can still feel the lightness there buoying me from my day with Callum. The way he unlocked something in me. I’ve never felt this free and open and—myself. Even pretending to be his fiancée, for the first time I can be honest, real Ripley. I’m not alone.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m... better than I have been in a long time, really.”