Page 44 of Stranger Danger

“You have morning classes?” he grunts. “I’m so damn sorry.”

“Right? Fuck me, I guess. I switched last semester thinking it was a good idea.”

He pulls off the ski mask, and then my bunny mask, throwing them onto his side of the room. His curly hair is an absolute goddamn wreck—half sticking up, half plastered to the back of his head—and his mouth still tastes like ramen when he kisses me.

“You want to take the day off?” I ask when he pulls back. “We can stay in bed and watch shit.” My finger slides down his equally wrecked hoodie. “Do other shit.”

He just grins and kisses me again. “Yeah. We can do that.”

Definitely still my favorite person in the world.

Chapter 11

Beckett

My phone tells me it’s eleven thirty in the morning, but it feels closer to six in the evening. I’ve tried to sleep. Multiple times . But I can’t get my eyes to stay shut for longer than ten minutes. Ira’s curled against my chest, his snores rotating between soft and adorable, to loud enough to make me laugh. He told me to wake him up in twenty minutes—that was over three hours ago.

At least one of us can rest.

I scroll down social media, passing half a dozen different videos and slideshows about the Polaroids. My favorite theory is the ARG one—it’s so completely wrong that it’s believable. The comment sections are comedy gold.

sweetngamer021: If you look at the first letters of each photo (i t i n i u p) it almost SPELLS something!!! It’s in… where? What’s “I U P”? Does it mean one-up? Are pink and black in a competition with each other?

bassoonbasketowl: team pink

smoothcabasihenujixe: Pink is defo a female u see the writing lol

1mbricated: i think they’re both just markers ppl

drastic-overlive: Pink is clearly copying Black.

herbless: totes brothers

voidbunny: brothers?? they’re dating. i ship them.

I choke back too-loud laughter when Ira rubs his face into my neck. Our next Polaroids should be pictures of a mushroom… or a pipe. That would send our fans over the edge for sure.

My phone pops up a Breaking News notification for the fourth time in two hours, and I swipe down and click the video, keeping the volume low. The mayor is behind a wooden pulpit, an ASL translator close by.

“The police task force has determined there are two killers at large in our small town—”

Damn. It took them long enough, didn’t it? Ira’s work doesn’t look like my art at all, even if you squint and remove the weapons.

“We believe the other is the prolific serial killer, most remembered for their reign of terror in the late 90s to early 2000s—”

“Are you fucking dense?” I snap at my screen. Ira mumbles something incoherent, and I immediately lower my voice. “How the hell do you think someone who stabbed people to death is related at all?”

“—evidence points toward the misattributed case of the late Mr. Wallace back in October.”

Give me strength.

I’m going to burst a blood vessel.

“For everyone’s safety, increased police presence—”

Someone bangs on our door, and Ira jerks so hard he headbutts my phone into my teeth. I barely have time to make sure I’m not bleeding before the voices start.

“Are you awake in there, Beck?” Gavin yells from the other side. I can hear two or three other guys laughing. “Are you alone in there, Beck?” A chorus of “ooos” and “aahhs” follow like we’re all a bunch of middle schoolers.