put her first. I never once felt like I was getting it right in three years.”
“Then why did you stay together?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to break up with Agatha. It wasn’t her fault.”
He’s smoothing his hand along his leg again. I like everything about Baz in this suit.
“I’m just saying,” I say, turning a bit more, “that I don’t know how to be your boyfriend. And I don’t think you’d want that from me.”
“Fine,” he says. “Understood.”
“And I know that you think we’re doomed—Romeo-and-Juliet style.”
“Completely,” he says to his knees.
“And I don’t think I’m gay,” I say. “I mean, maybe I am, at least partly, the part that seems to be demanding the most attention right now.…”
“No one cares whether you’re gay,” Baz says coldly.
I’m sitting sideways now, facing his profile. His eyes are narrow, and his mouth is a straight line.
“What I’m saying is…” My voice fades out. I suck at this. “I like to look at you.”
His eyes shoot over to me, and he lowers his eyebrows but doesn’t turn his head.
“I like this,” I go on. “All of this that we’ve been doing.”
He ignores me.
“I like you,” I say. “And I don’t even care that you don’t like me—I’m used to it, I wouldn’t know what to do if you did. But I like you, Baz. I like this. I like helping you. I like knowing that you’re okay. When you didn’t come back to school this autumn, when you were missing … I thought I was going to lose my mind.”
“You thought I was plotting against you,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say. “And I missed you.”
He shakes his head. “There’s something wrong with you—”
“I know. But I still want this, if you’ll let me have it.”
Baz finally turns to look at me. “What’s this, Snow?”
“This,” I say. “I want to be your boyfriend. Your terrible boyfriend.”
He cocks an eyebrow and stares at me, like figuring out what’s wrong with me is something he’ll never have enough time for.
There’s a soft knock at the door.
Baz stands up, straightening his suit, and walks to the door. He opens it and leans over, picking up a tray, then brings it back to his bed. There’s a pitcher of milk and a heavily laden plate from dinner.
“Who’s that from?” I ask.
“My stepmother.”
“Why didn’t you just eat at dinner?”
“I don’t like eating in front of people.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
“Is it anorexia?”
“No, Snow, it’s not anorexia—do you even know what that means?” He sits on the far side of his bed and takes the napkin off the tray, shaking it unfolded. “My fangs pop when I eat,” he says. “It’s noticeable.”
I crawl across the bed to sit next to him. “I didn’t notice the other night, when you ate in front of me.”
“Well, you’re not very observant, are you.”
“Or maybe it’s not as noticeable as you think.”
Baz looks up at me, and his cheeks look fuller than normal. He smiles then, and I see them—long white fangs, trying to push out over both his lips.
“Wicked,” I whisper, trying to look closer. He pushes me back, but not far. “Open your mouth again,” I say. “Let me see.”
He sighs and pulls back his lips. His fangs are huge. And they look so sharp. “Where do they even come from? Like, where do they go when you’re not using them?”
“I don’t know.” He sounds kind of like he’s wearing braces.
“Can I touch them?”
“No. They’re sharp. And toxic.”
“I can’t believe there’s a part of your body that grows when you need it. You’re like a mutant.”
“I’m a vampire,” Baz says, “and can you hear yourself?”
I sit back. “Yeah.”
I expect him to look aggravated, and he does, but he’s also kind of smiling. Around his fangs.
I hand him his plate—turkey, stuffing, bacon, lashings of gravy. He takes it.
“Are you still hungry, Snow?”
“I could eat.”
“Come on, then.” He hands me the fork and keeps the spoon for himself. The turkey’s so tender, the spoon works fine. He takes a huge bite, and I see the full length of his fangs. “Wicked,” I say again.
Baz shakes his head. “You’re an idiot,” he says with his mouth extra full. He looks down at his plate. “But you can have … this. If you want it.”
I do.
68
AGATHA
It’s a three-hour drive back to London. Penelope casts, “Time flies!”—but neither of us are having any fun, so it doesn’t work.
I’ve half a mind to drive straight to Watford to tell the Mage everything, but my parents were expecting me