“Frosty,” I say, breathless.
“I know. I’m amazing.” He leads me to the table, helps me sit and kisses my forehead. I’m in awe as he chops and mixes and bakes, pours the juice I favor and massages my shoulders. We talk and laugh, and for the first time in my life, I feel normal.
“By the way,” he says, moving beside me, “you’re going to tattoo me.”
What? “No way. I might mess up.”
“You won’t. I want your name on me.”
Wait, wait, wait. He wants to wear my name? Forever? “Aston,” I whisper, overwhelmed.
“I’m proud to be with you, and I want the world to know it.”
How can I say no to that? “Yes. I’ll do it.”
“In black and white.”
Could this boy be any sexier? “In black and white. But I’ll wear your name in color.” What I feel for him is beautiful and vibrant.
He leans over and kisses me. “You make me happy.”
Cole and Ali snake around the corner. They are kissing and laughing—nope, kissing again. Immersed in each other, they fail to notice the oncoming wall and ricochet backward. They break apart, laughing again.
Both have sleep-rumpled hair. Ali is wearing a T-shirt that reads Gotta Get Some Killer Zs and a pair of boxers. Cole is shirtless, like Frosty, and wearing a pair of low-slung sweats.
“The men in this household are hot,” I say and fan myself. I stand to take my plate to the sink.
“Hey.” Frosty slaps my butt. “Eyes on me, sweet pea. I’m the only hot you need to concern yourself with. Besides, if you look at Cole, Ali will cut out your eyes.”
“Ali will?” I ask with a smile.
“I most certainly will not,” Ali says. “I know my guy is a prime piece of grade A man-steak. If I wanted to keep him from being eye-mauled on a daily basis, I’d have to blind every woman in the world.”
I nod in agreement. “See?” I say to Frosty, then face Ali. “I know just what you mean. The difference is I am willing to blind every woman in the world.”
Frosty laughs. “Suck it, Cole. My girl loves me more than yours loves you.”
Ali chokes back her chuckles as she waves a fist at me. Cole just flips off Frosty.
“You made SpaghettiOs, Frost?” Ali asks. “I’ll have a bowl. Thanks.”
“Ditto,” Cole says. They both sit at the table, waiting expectantly.
“You’re both douche-purses,” Frosty mutters. “You know that, right?”
I watch him as he prepares a bowl for each, and I smile. All my life, I never thought I’d have this. I’m loved by the sexiest guy in existence. I’m cherished. I have friends who trust me and count on me. I’m not looking over my shoulder every few seconds, knowing another blow is coming, it’s just a matter of time. I’m not the girl who betrayed everyone. I’m the girl who helped save everyone.
Frosty carries the bowls to the table, but rather than taking his own chair, he picks me up, sits down and settles me in his lap.
“I remember when you liked having me on your lap,” Ali says to Cole after swallowing a spoonful. “We must be getting stale.”
Cole stands—and then sits in her lap. “How’s this, honey?”
The four of us erupt into peals of laughter.
“You really are a douche-purse.” Ali pushes Cole away and says, “So...tell them what we saw.”
Cole steals Ali’s bowl and finishes off the contents. “All our abilities—”
“All our abilities are back,” she blurts, taking over the story. “This morning we sat out on a swing outside, holding hands like we once saw in a vision. I had the journal in my lap, and when the wind kicked up, it opened. Pages that were once blank are now filled with writing, and nothing is in code. Anyway, I digress. Cole and I looked at each other and we had a new vision. One of our entire group standing around the perimeter of Shady Elms. We weren’t touching, but had our arms extended toward each other. A gust of power exploded from us and swept through the entire graveyard, cleansing every shell and spirit of zombie toxin. We didn’t have to get bitten, and we didn’t have to fight.”
I don’t doubt the vision will come true. “Can you imagine?” I ask Frosty, excited by the possibilities. “We’re not slayers anymore. We’re janitors. The clean-up crew.”
His arms tighten around me. “We’ll go to college. I’ll get my degree in criminal justice and become the youngest, hottest detective on the force.”
“Second-youngest and hottest,” Cole interjects.
Please. “Sorry, Holland, but you might as well get used to being second best when you’re around my guy.”
Frosty smirks. “You hear that, Holland?”
“Meanwhile, I’ll be the youngest, hottest surgeon in town.” I kiss Frosty on the forehead. “I’ll make all your boo-boos better.”