The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play #2) - B.B. Reid
A STORM RIPPED THROUGH THE city that night.
The rain and hail sent dwellers scurrying for heat and shelter, and the ones who didn’t have a home—like me—were left defenseless against the elements. I remember the wind and snow that followed most vividly, and it wasn’t because of its harsh swiftness or icy chill.
It was because the wintry tempest had blown an even more unforgiving storm right into my path.
“It’s colder than a witch’s tits,” Leo grumbled. He was a foster care runaway like me and a year younger at fourteen. In just a couple of years, he’d be beating girls off with a stick. His thick, blond hair, striking green eyes, and bubble gum pink lips made him an instant dream boy. It didn’t help that he was kind, intelligent, and shy. I rarely opened doors around him, and he’d even absurdly offered me his jacket, willing to brace the biting cold in just his sweatshirt.
“Nah,” Miles argued with a violent shiver. He was another runaway, and at sixteen, he was older than Leo and me. Where Leo was light, sweet, and easy, Miles was dark, broody, and complicated. Leo asked permission while Miles demanded. “It’s colder than a pile of penguin shit.”
“You’re both wrong.” I clutched my thin jacket and ignored the ache in my bones. The only thing useful about it right now was the pockets, and being a pickpocket, I never used them. Instead, I entrusted everything I cared about to the camel-colored rucksack my mom wore when she used to hike and backpack across Europe. Other than the Polaroid camera my parents gifted me the Christmas before they took off, it was the only thing I never left behind whenever I took off, too. “It’s colder than the hair on a polar bear’s ass.”
We huddled around the fire we had fought to make inside a trash can with only the fire escape hanging over a barbershop as our awning. We didn’t have long before a cruiser ran us off, but I tamped down my rising dread for the hellish night I had ahead of me.
Both of their lips turned upward, and I knew they would have been laughing if it didn’t require more energy than we had.
My stomach chose that moment to growl—a reminder of the other reason I had trouble keeping my strength up—and it was loud enough to be heard over the howling wind.
“Jesus, when was the last time you ate?” Miles grilled.
“I’m on a diet.”
Miles ignored my sarcasm and pulled a shaking hand from his jacket pocket, revealing a half-eaten McChicken.
“So that’s where you were earlier,” I mused while ignoring his offering. “Begging for change.” I turned my nose up, and his lips flattened into a line.
“It’s better than risking my freedom picking pockets.”
I met his dark gaze and almost laughed at the frustrated gleam. “We were never free, Miles.”
“Take the sandwich, Louchana.”
“No, thanks. I’m saving my appetite for steak and lobster. Those Wall Street jerk-offs really love to flash their cash around.”
“Look around you, Lou! The entire city will be snowed in by morning. There will be no one to rob.”
When he tried to force the sandwich into my hand, I snarled and said, “I’m not eating the fucking sandwich, so you can stop pretending you don’t need it more than I do.”
We both knew his run was almost up. He ran home as often as he ran away from it. Miles had type one diabetes and was on his last injection. Without insulin…
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be as dead as a doorknob.”
I didn’t miss the guilty look he exchanged with Leo or the way their bodies slowly straightened from their hunched positions.
“Please eat the sandwich,” Miles urged, changing tactics.
I was immediately on edge. My gaze narrowed. “You’re going back, aren’t you?” At his reluctant tight-lipped nod, my attention swung to Leo. “You too?”
Leo weakly shrugged and shuffled his feet in the thin layer of snow that blew into the barbershop walkway. Leo was in the system like me, but Miles had a home that he shared with parents who didn’t just decide one day that they didn’t want to be parents anymore. And he didn’t fucking appreciate it. Almost every other month, Miles ran away from home to show his parents he wasn’t some fragile thing that needed to be coddled and protected. Leo, while possessing many virtues, didn’t excel at thinking on his own, so whenever Miles called it quits and ran back home to mommy and daddy, he’d suddenly have this