Page 208 of Primal

“Ooooh, Mr. IT Guy gets wild.” I lean in. “Tell me you’re at least dressing up in costume.”

“Tortured Victorian ghost.” Deadpan. “Been practicing my moaning.”

I snort.

“Kade!”

The screen door slams. Max barrels toward us.

“Mom says we need more Snickers.” He skids to a stop, eyeing my junk food. “Whoa. Halloween snacks?”

“Post-meltdown munchies.” I glance at Kade. “Let me guess—you’re about to tell me this violates some ‘optimal nutritional algorithm.’”

“Was gonna say ‘Fire hazard.’” He shoves his glasses up with the side of his knuckle. “With the wine.”

“Buzzkill.” I shake the Cheetos bag at him. “Live a little, IT guy.”

“It’s data science,” he mutters, a flicker of amusement behind the lenses, and nudges Max toward their house. “Go get the stuff ready.”

“You’re no fun.” Max sticks out his tongue but obeys, calling over his shoulder, “Payton, you should come.”

“Sorry, Max. I’ve got plans tomorrow.” I jingle my keys.

“What plans?”

“Max.” Pure big-brother warning.

I wink at the kid. “Let’s just say I might need my running shoes.”

Max grins. “Kade says never run in the dark. That’s when—”

“—you trip over your own feet,” Kade interrupts, shooing his brother off. “Go find the duct tape.”

Then he crowds into my space, his shadow swallowing mine against the doorframe. “Heard The Verge’s gonna be intense this year.”

My thumb pauses on the lock. “Wait, how’d you know?”

“Lucky guess. Why else would you need running shoes?” He brushes past me. Tests the doorknob. Cedar, same as always. But there’s something sharper underneath tonight. Sweat. Adrenaline. “Watch for tree roots. Easy to stumble.”

My pulse stutters. “Think I can’t handle a little chase?”

He pulls back. A glint in those steel-blue eyes. “I think you’d chase danger just to see if it could keep up.”

“Kade,” Max yells from inside their house, “we’re out of tape too.”

Kade exhales, shaking his head. “Have fun, Payton.”

I watch him cross the street.

Those glasses are a crime. That jawline should be illegal. And oh, he absolutely reads sonnets to his cat. Probably iambic pentameter, because of course Kade would take his nerd game all the way to Shakespearean levels.

And still … I’m standing here with cheap wine. Melting Talenti. Cheetos crumbling under my elbow like my standards. That man just implied I’d flirt with danger. For fun.

Rude.

Accurate, but still rude.

Inside, I dump my haul on the counter. My stupid heart’s pumping way too fast. As if I’ve already sprinted through a goddamn forest.