Page 45 of Such Sharp Teeth

“No,” he says. “Nuh-uh. It’s your turn.”

“What do you mean?”

“You tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You tell me how you feel.”

Absolutely not.

“I feel . . . like . . .” I say, “we should fuck on the kitchen floor.”

He laughs. “That’s cheating.”

“What?” I ask, approaching him. “You asked me how I feel.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

I put my arms around him, tilt my head back to look up at him with my eyes big. He lifts me up and puts me on the counter. I start to kiss his neck. I take his earlobe between my teeth.

“You’re an animal,” he tells me.

My heart stops. I stop.

I can smell his sweat. Briny and delicious.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” I tell him, and I can only hope he’s listening.

—

I’m there for three days. He drops me off Sunday night, and I stumble into the house on tired legs. Reaper barks at me, but I don’t match his hostility. I ignore him, walk straight over to the couch, and collapse there beside Scarlett.

“Sorry. Do you still live here?” she asks.

I steal some of her blanket. “Mm.”

“I’d ask you how it went, but . . .”

I giggle.

“Good for you,” she says. “You reek.”

I grab one of her legs and cuddle it. She doesn’t kick me away. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long. I missed you.”

“Yeah, sure,” she says. “Sure.”

“I did!”

She sits up. “I had a doctor’s appointment Friday.”

“What? How come you didn’t tell me? I would have gone with you.”

“I’d rather go alone.” She clears her throat. “Anyway. There are pictures upstairs. On my nightstand. She looks like a Xenomorph.”

“Aw!”

“Oh, Mom gets in Saturday at eleven forty-five. Can you pick her up? I’ll be at work.”