Page 29 of Tracking Snow

"Seven thinks we need to stay away from you."

He's answering with Seven again.

Seven's opinion. Not his.

His body heat absolutely helps, and I can’t help but notice the perfect way I notch into his side, like I’m made to fit right here under his arm. "And what do you think?" I ask, looking up at him.

His gait slows almost imperceptibly.

"I think you are a wild card. A complication. Unexpected." Again, he rattles it off with such logical bluntness. He could be describing paint colors.

"You didn’t say whether you feel that’s good or bad," I add quietly, before leaning in harder, tilting my head to bat my eyes with dramatic flirtation as we continue the walk toward my apartment.

"Welcome to mi casa," I say in a hushed tone, sweeping an arm in invitation.

Six never said whether he thought I was a good or bad wild card in his life, but he walked me home so I couldn’t be too bad.

"We have to be quiet," I add, "because I share mi casa with my bestie who is sound asleep." I glance at Ariel’s closed door, feeling that usual prick of envy that she can just...fall asleep.

Selfish ho.

Why couldn’t she share the ZZZs with me, or at least stay up all night to entertain me?

Six doesn’t seem to hear me. Instead, he’s studying every aspect of my place as if it was some fascinating museum.

To be fair, our apartment is a lot to take in.

In the dead of night, the living room is less like a normal living room and more like a maximalist magpie fell in love with a cocktail lounge.

Fairy lights glow over the leopard print, pink glass, gold mirrors, trailing plants, and Ariel’s ever-growing collection of little treasures, half of which appeared overnight and absolutely none of which came with receipts.

I’ve been meaning to have a little chat with her about the bad habit she thinks she’s hiding so well.

But who am I to out my friend for being a klepto when my primary hobby is throwing daggers and picking fights in the middle of the night?

Six’s green eyes move from the disco ball hanging in the corner to the brass pineapple on the windowsill. From the ceramic swan wearing a rhinestone choker on the bookshelf to the single red cowboy boot being used as a vase for a bunch of fake hydrangeas.

When he seems to finish analyzing our living room and the small attached kitchen, for better or worse I don’t know, his gaze settles on me again.

"You should take a hot bath and get some sleep."

Admittedly, I am missing the heat of his body, and I’m still wet and chilly. "I don’t really sleep much. Do you want to..." I’m not sure how this version of The Seven will take my pitch. "Take a shower here and hang out with me for a while?"

Six blinks.

"Because you must be cold too, and two hot showers are faster than one hot bath. Your clothes are wet, so we should dry them. I have an extra pair of oversized boxers that will probably fit you while your clothes dry. And I know you tend to stay up all night too." I rush to say, trying to appeal to his very logical side, "so we could just stay up together." I finish with a lopsided smile, feeling completely uncertain.

I almost wish Four was back because there is no mistaking that guy’s intentions. And even though One tries to play things with a firm hand, I can read him like a book. A children’s book, with big, colorful, simple pictures.

Two and Six are...more aloof, harder to pin down.

"Okay," he says. "That makes sense."

It takes everything in me not to raise a fist in victory.

He’s going to stay.

That insatiable fire has kicked up in my belly with its usual gnawing hunger, except this time, it’s hungry for him. Everything in me is desperate to stay in his presence, and knowing he just agreed makes me want to crow.