Page 109 of So Thirsty

“I don’t know. Physics,” I say, flatly.

She laughs. “Buck up. We’re not expected to participate in the heist. I have a feeling they want us to stay out of the way. It’s kind of romantic. Him robbing a bank for you. Like a hot Dracula John Dillinger.”

“He’s not Dracula,” I say.

“Do you know that for sure, or…?”

I squeeze my head between my hands, close my eyes, clench my jaw.

“You don’t want to talk about real shit, hash it out, so I’m keeping it light. Surface level.”

“Should we try talking them out of it?” I ask, standing.

“Why? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? I mean, under these circumstances. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“They’re going in after hours. It’s going to be more of a breaking-and-entering situation. A stealth operation,” she says, eyes sparking.

“Are you into this?”

“Kind of, yeah,” she says, swinging around so she’s lying sideways on the bed, posing like a starlet. “Outlaws. Vampire bandits. What’s not to like?”

“Other than all the bloodshed?” I ask.

“That’s the best part,” she says. “Kidding.”

“Are you?”

She’s suddenly, eerily, dead serious. “I don’t know how to make it right, Sloane. I’m scared, too. I have my regrets. I’ve done plenty of things that I’m not proud of over these last few days. But what am I gonna do? I can’t change it. What’s done is done,” she says, sitting up. “I can only move forward.”

I remember Henry’s observation. She lives as though she’s running out of time. I used to think Naomi never considered consequence, that she felt no shame, or fear. I can see now that I misunderstood. She’s burdened by the same things that burden me. Only her solution is to live harder, move faster, attempt to outrun, while I hide away, make myself small and static. I thought she was the reckless one. The dangerous one. But maybe I just wanted to believe that I wasn’t.

“You’re the person I love most in this world. I don’t want to lose you. I need you. You can’t be mad at me forever,” she says. “Literally forever.”

“I’m not mad at you, Nay,” I say, and as the words leave my lips, I realize they’re true. It’s easy to project anger at the person closest to you when the person you’re really angry at is yourself.

“You can’t be mad at yourself forever either. You know that, right?”

I flip her off. “Mind reader.”

She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, and it’s like we’re in the back of Meghan’s mom’s minivan, like the moment we became friends. The moment we found home.

“I’m sorry, Sloane. For all of it.”

“Me, too, hoss.”

“Huh. Yeah, you can pull off ‘hoss.’ I mean, I kind of thought it might be my thing now, but…”

“I feel like I actually can’t pull it off, but you don’t want to tell me that, so you’re using it so I won’t use it. Taking a bullet for me.”

“Nah,” she says. “What do you say? Should we go crash their party? Find out the grand plan?”

“I guess.”

She leads me out of the room, across the hall. She takes out her key card but pauses before opening the door.

“Wait,” she whispers. “First, you have to tell me what’s going on with you and probably-not Dracula.”