when you and Abbi got drunk at her parents house and you called him, you slurred every word and sent him your location before losing your phone, and he hunted for you on his motorbike for hours.

When he was forced to give up and come home, he found you asleep in his bed. You woke in the morning with your head on his chest.

"I need to get gas," you say when you notice your tank is close to empty. You turn into the closest station and glance at the box over your shoulder and wonder if he'll notice if you accidentally leave it on the roof of someone else's car.

Spiders give you chills. Small ones that run across your room floor, dangle from the ceiling, or casually chill on your face while you sleep are bad enough, but the hairy thing in that box isn't just a little spider- it's red and black and hairy and looks like it might eat me.

Rain patters down, making puddles on the ground as you fight with the handle and the gas cap Malachi ends up twisting it off for you and sits on the hood while you fill up the tank. Arms crossed, he stares at you, and you narrow your eyes. "What?"

‘You don't have your lip balm on.’

You rub your lips together they're stained red from the lipstick you bought a few days ago. "I like this one better."

‘I disagree. You look like a hooker.’

You slap his arm, and he silently laughs.

“Mom wants me to find a boyfriend because apparently I need a man to look after me." You roll my eyes. "She said they'll partner me up with that weirdo Parker."

Malachi's eyes darken, his jaw clenching. ‘You're only eighteen.’

You laugh. "Tell her that!" Twisting on the gas cap, you pat his shoulder. "Count yourself lucky Dad thinks men are power, or you'd be forced into marriage at a young age too.?”

He snatches your wrist before you can pull away then drops it to sign a reply. ‘No, you aren't getting married.’