Cold Kiss

up.
    Gabriel has no place in my head, and definitely not here in the loft. It’s hard not to glance around the dark room, as if, wherever he is, Gabriel can hear what I’m thinking even now.
    “Wren,” Danny starts, sitting up with me and sliding his arm around my waist. “Don’t. Don’t … stop. You always stop now.”
    Every word is weighted, heavy with confusion and frustration, and I give in a little and lay my head on his shoulder. It’s all my fault, every bit of this. It’s like one of those hedge mazes. Once you’re in, turned around without any landmarks, there’s nothing to do but keep going until you find your way out.
    I have a long way to go, I know. Until then, I can only do this: gently push him onto his back, kiss his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, and whisper, “Sleep now, Danny. Sleep. I want you to sleep.”
    He can’t fight it, even though I can tell he wants to. He doesn’t even have to sleep anymore, just as he doesn’t need to eat or breathe. But when I tell him something like this, when I give him a direct command, he can’t help himself.
    I didn’t know the spell would work like this, but I’m glad it does. Danny would never hurt me, would never really push himself on me, but there are too many things I can’t explain to him now. When he backs me into a corner, this is the easiest way to get around him.
    He’s frowning, just a little, his brows drawn up in an unhappy question mark, but he doesn’t move after a moment. His body relaxes inch by inch, his shoulders softening as they slump against the mattress, his head listing to one side. The hand that had tightened into a fist on his thigh loosens, and I touch the bare, knobby knuckles with one fingertip.
    He doesn’t stir.
    Commands don’t last forever. At some point, when I’ve been away from him too long, I think, he’ll wake up.
    If I close my eyes, I can see the look on his face in that moment, disappointment and resignation setting his jaw tight. I know because I’ve seen it when I leave him awake, and it never stops hurting.
    This is easier. For me, anyway. This way, I can pretend it’s months ago, the first few days after school had ended for the year, and we were curled together in his bed while his mom was at work. It was early summer, the air soft and warm and slightly damp, and he had fallen asleep after … well, after.
    It was one of the first times I got to watch him sleep, and it was so strange, having him right there but somehow not. The way he sort of melted into the sheets, boneless and completely comfortable, his hair stuck to his forehead in two places, and a thin sheen of sweat on his collarbone. After a while his eyes had started to move beneath his lids as he dreamed, and he suddenly smiled, a startling flare of happiness before his mouth softened again.
    That never happens now, no matter how long I watch him. And like everything else, I know that’s my fault, too.

CHAPTER SIX

    I MANAGE TO AVOID TALKING TO GABRIEL, OR pretty much anyone, until lunch the next day. I walk into the cafeteria starved, since I forgot my lunch this morning, knowing Jess is here somewhere. We only have lunch and gym together this year.
    It smells like sauerkraut and dust and sweat, and I grab a yogurt and a PB&J from the end of the line. If I eat quickly, I can probably manage to sneak off to the library without seeing her, not that I imagine she’s looking for me. When Jess gets her mad on, it usually stays put for a while.
    But it’s not Jess I bump into when I turn around, the pitted plastic tray wobbling in my hands. It’s Gabriel, taking a bite of an apple with his head tilted sideways, as if I’m some science experiment he’s not sure he executed right.
    “God, what ?” The words are out of my mouth before I can think twice, and he just gives me this amused smile.
    “Thought you might want some company,” he says with a shrug.
    “You thought wrong,” I tell him, and head for the tables at the far end of the room. It’s the size of the gym, and just as noisy, and the mostly empty table I’m aiming for seems miles away.
    Especially since Gabriel follows right behind me, as if I haven’t spoken at all, as if I haven’t been shooting him “keep away” vibes all day. I think Stalker at him, really loud, but when I glance over my shoulder, he only looks sort of confused.
    “God, go away,” I hiss at him as I set my tray down. The two freshmen at the other end of the table look up, startled, and