“Wait,” he said. “That’s not a word.”I looked down to where, in a moment of desperation, I’d played zixic on a triple-word-score space.“Uh, sure it is.”“What’s it mean?”“It’s sort of like…quixotic, but with more…”“Bullshit?”I laughed out loud. I’d never heard him swear before.“More zeal. Hence the z.”“Uh-huh. Use it in a sentence.”“Um…’You are a zixic writer.’““I don’t believe this.”“That you’re zixic?”“That you’re trying to cheat at Scrabble.” He leaned back against my couch, shaking his head. “I mean, I was ready to accept the whole evil thing, but this is kind of extreme.”

“Wesley took a swig of his beer, hoping that maybe the pause might give him time enough to sort out his thoughts. “Well, I never really changed my mind,” he said smoothly. “I never said no.”“I guess I just figured it was implied.”“And why is that?”“I’m pretty sure you’re way out of my league.”Wesley laughed. “I highly doubt that. I don’t even know what league I’m in.”“Well that’s just it. You’re kind of in a league of your own. Your friends; they’re both pretty flirtatious. They openly flirt with all of the waitresses but you’re this serious, focused, badass that doesn’t say more than he has to.”“Wow.” Wesley laughed. “I sound like an asshole.”

“I like you too, Zack,” I said, leaning my head against his shoulder, so I could look up at him. “You’ve sort of had me . . . enamored, I guess is the right word . . . since we met.”He laughed. “You were enamored with me?”I nodded. “Yeah, I was. It’s sad, but I was completely enamored with you. I blame your eyes, and your stupid guitar playing. I’m a sucker for a guy with a guitar.”“Don’t forget my kissable lips,” he said, as he kissed my neck, trailing his lips down to my collarbone. I sighed, a long, deep, satisfied sigh.”

“He stood and looked at me for a moment, taking in my outfit. "You look hot.""What? Me?" I stammered, completely flummoxed."Yeah," he said, still looking at me."Oh. Um, thank you. I mean, not that you don’t, but I’m not sure that you should—I mean …""Oh, no," Roger said quickly, and I could see that he was blushing again. "No. I mean—I meant what you’re wearing. Are you going to be too warm?”

“Do you . . .” I begin, then turn around to make sure Scarlett is really asleep, not just faking it—her chest rises and falls a different way when it’s genuine. Satisfied, I look back to Silas and choose my words carefully. “Do you think I’m a good hunter?”Silas looks confused. “Of course. You and Lett are the best hunters I—”“No, not me and Scarlett. Just me,” I say.Silas slows the car a tad to look at me. “Yes. Yes, of course. You’re—pardon my language—you’re fucking deadly with a knife, Rosie.”I smile and shake my head, remembering all the times Silas scolded his older brothers for throwing language around in front of my “virgin ears.” It’s sort of satisfying to know that his perspective has changed. “Right,” I say. “I mean, we hunt together. But Scarlett . . . it’s like a part of her soul.”“Dramatic much?” Silas teases, but he frowns when I don’t laugh.“You know what I mean. It drives her.”“But not you?”“I don’t know. I mean, maybe. It doesn’t matter. I owe Scarlett my life, you know?”“Yeah, but . . . like I told your sister, that doesn’t mean she’s got you locked in a cage forever. Unless you want to be locked in a cage, I mean. Wait, that sounds weird.” Silas shakes his head and sighs. “I’m forever tripping on words with you, Rosie.”“I have that effect on people,” I joke, but Silas’s face stays serious as he nods slightly. I grin nervously.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to look any sexier right now,” he whispered in my ear. “If it weren’t for the fact that I need this job, I might be inclined to drag you back to the stockroom and have my way with you.”I spun around in his arms and looked up into the eyes I’d missed seeing. “This is nothing compared to how sexy I’ll look later,” I said, leaning back against the jukebox. “If you’re interested.”“Is that an invitation?”I shrugged. “Consider it a request. No, scratch that. Consider it a demand,” I said, as I locked eyes with him.”