wall. A few boxes are here and there, but other than that, the place is mostly bare.
“What do you think it was going to do to you?” I ask as he shuts the door behind us and locks it.
“I have no idea.” He tosses the keys onto the kitchen counter that’s attached to the living room. Then he turns toward me, dragging his fingers through his hair and making the blond strands go askew.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him in the light tonight, so I get the full picture of how gorgeous he is, and I discreetly take him in, wanting to kiss him but deciding I probably shouldn’t, that I’ve already done enough crazy stuff for the night.
His hand falls to his side. “What did you say that person—Death or whatever—called the shadow things?”
“Death stealers. I’m not sure what that means, though.”
“Have you tried to look it up?”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t find anything legit.”
He pauses, considering something. “You want to show me those emails?”
“Yeah, sure.” I wait for him to hand me his phone, but he just flips on another light and starts down the hallway.
I follow him, confused about where we’re going. That is until we enter a room that has a bed, dresser, and boxes. On the bed is a laptop, which he picks up. Then he sits down and presses the power button.
This is the second time I’ve been in his bedroom in the last few weeks, although it’s not technically the same room. But his stuff is still everywhere, including that album I found that I know has photos of me inside it. It’s on top of his dresser beside an expensive looking camera.
“This thing is so slow turning on,” he mutters, scooting back and leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out across the bed.
“Mine’s that way, too. I keep trying to convince my mom that I need a new one for when college starts, and I think I’ve convinced her to get me one. Or, well, I did before the accident. Now I have no clue what’s going to happen since she can barely stand the idea of me leaving the house by myself.”
He clicks a few keys then looks up at me. “Are you still planning on going to college?”
I nod, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m just going to the local college, though.”
“I know.” He glances at the screen again, the light reflecting in his eyes.
“How do you know that?” I wonder, stepping toward the bed.
He shrugs. “I’ve heard our parents talking about it a couple of times. I also heard my mom mention how she wished you’d go to the same college as Foster.”
“I thought about it at one point,” I admit. “But it was too expensive. And I think the only reason your mom probably said that is because her and my mom have this idea in their heads that Foster and I are going to get married. In fact, my mom actually said something along those lines to me once.”
“Yeah, I’ve overheard my mom saying the same thing. I always thought it was kind of weird how much they tried to push you two together.” He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen. “But I guess, in their eyes, they think Foster is this great guy who’ll give you this great life.”
“Well, I completely disagree with them. And not just because I know what kind of guy Foster is now,” I mutter, leaning against the dresser. “I want my life to be great because I make it great. I don’t want my happiness to have to be dependent on someone else.”
His gaze flicks to me. “I get that. I mean, I know my life is shit right now, but after all this happened … after I got arrested and had to make a deal to be an informant, I made a promise to myself that, after this is all done, I’ll start living my life based on my own decisions instead of my anger toward my parents and brother.”
“You’re still holding on to some of that anger,” I state.
“I know. I’m trying to let it go.” His gaze searches mine. “You’re holding on to some anger, too. I just can’t figure out for what. Not that you don’t have the right to be angry about a lot of things.”
“I’m mainly angry with Foster, but I have some bitterness toward your parents … and mine. And some toward Evalynn for lying and making it