Page 58 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Why?”

“Because you're going to rip your skin off.”

“I'll survive.”

“You're incredibly dramatic.”

Elliot moved around the island. Ronan watched him reach for his hand. The contact was ordinary. Mostly. Elliot turned Ronan's palm upward and inspected the glue. His fingertips were cool.

“You need acetone.”

“Wonderful.”

“I have some upstairs.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Nail polish remover.”

“You own nail polish remover?”

“Claire left it.”

“Of course she did.”

Elliot released his hand. Then his eyes caught on something. Ronan followed his gaze. A fading bite mark remained near the inside of his wrist. Barely visible now. Elliot's thumb brushed over it. Ronan looked at him.

“Really?”

“What?”

“You're admiring your work again.”

“It healed.”

“That tends to happen.”

Elliot's expression became almost disappointed. Ronan laughed.

“You're fucked up.”

“So you've said.”

“Frequently.”

Elliot lifted his eyes.

“Still like me.”

“Against medical advice.”

Elliot smiled. There was the version Ronan knew. The private one. Not entirely sweet. Not entirely mean. Something in between. His. The thought appeared before Ronan could stop it. His. He hated when Elliot's possessiveness infected him. Or maybe infected was the wrong word. Maybe Elliot had simply made it easier to admit the things Ronan already felt. The phone on the counter vibrated. Elliot looked toward it. Dylan again. Ronan saw his expression close. There it was. The jealousy. Instant. Reliable. Ronan picked up the phone.

DYLAN: campus police here now

Then another message.