In a game of chess, it’s the final stage when forces are reduced, and there are few pieces left on the board.
In the world of fandom, it’s the final relationship between the characters, the one that works out at the very end of the story.
In the dictionary, it simply means the final stage of an action, plan, or progress.
So. What is Justin’s version of ‘endgame’? Where are we going with this? What does he want?
Me.
Okay, so that’s an easy one. But how? What does he want for us? To rule Medina together? To work on his app together? To kill people together?
I shiver.
“We’ll get this figured out,” Chasm promises as Maxx moves over to the table, dressed in the same apron from the other day. He sets two plates down in front of us, and I smile.
Crepes again. This time, he’s put the chocolate-hazelnut spread and sliced strawberries inside, rolled them up, and decorated the tops with fresh whipped cream and a drizzle of melted chocolate.
“Thank you, Maxx,” I murmur, losing my voice for a moment as I pick up my fork and do my best not to panic. Nobody will understand it; it’ll only make me look like a crazy person in front of the Vanguards. Justin is already trying his hardest to turn me into a total asshole in front of everyone I know. It won’t help if I add to that narrative.
“You’re welcome,” he tells me, taking a seat across from me. Chasm is on my left, at the head of the table (Paul’s usual spot). “But you can’t just pick at it. You have to actually eat.” He cuts his crepe in half and slides it onto his fork. He manages to easily put the entire thing in his mouth, letting his eyes go half-lidded as he chews. “Damn, I was hungry,” he murmurs after swallowing.
Chasm looks down at the food. Based on his facial expression, I can see that he’s just as hungry as I am, but probably also just as nauseous. He wants to see Parrish again. Me, too. Haven’t we been separated from him long enough?
But Maxx is right. We can’t be serial killer fighting teens if we don’t eat.
My lips quirk in a smile as I slice my own crepe up with the edge of my fork.
“Our story would make a really good manga. Or an anime. A video game.”
“It’d make a really good book,” Chasm offers up, and I go terribly still. My mind strays to Tess, to the beautiful words she weaves with her fingers, a goddess of stories, a keeper of sanity, a purveyor of tales. I force myself to keep moving, putting that first bite between my lips even as my stomach roils.
As soon as it hits my tongue, I groan, and Chas gives me a look.
“You can’t be making sounds like that anymore,” he chastises, turning his head away from me. “Not when Parrish comes home.”
I pause with the food still in my mouth, staring at him. He looks back to see my gaze and frowns softly. We’ve been saying that for so long—when Parrish comes home, when he gets back, when we find him—but now it’s happening. It’s everything that the three of us wanted.
It also comes with challenges.
What are we supposed to do about our strange relationship? How am I supposed to tell him that Maxx and I had sex? That I’ve been lovey-dovey with both boys, and that I’d keep on doing it if I could.
But, if it comes down to choosing, I … Parrish was first. I wasn’t lying when I explained that to Chasm. Parrish was the first of the three that I met, and the one I spent the most time with. It was impossible not to fall in love with him when our doorways are thirty-six inches from one another’s.
“Eat,” Maxx commands, but he isn’t talking to me. He points at Chasm’s food and lifts his brows. “Before it gets cold.”
“Yes, sir,” Chasm replies with a roll of his eyes, and I stifle a smile by looking down at my plate. My eyes keep flicking to my phone, but I know that Justin will call when he needs something from me. He has no incentive to simply torture or kill Maxine; that won’t help his cause.
That’s how I keep myself relatively calm, by repeating that mantra, by remembering the obsessive gleam in his eyes when he looks at me. His princess. I stab a piece of crepe with extra force and both boys pause, watching as I chew it angrily, and then throw back a drink of the ice water Maxx gave me earlier like it’s Jägermeister, and I’m at Antonio’s house party all over again.
We eat together in relative silence. Even with the kids’ game blasting loudly from the TV, it isn’t safe to continue a private conversation with them and Kimber in the room. And if she just happens overhear the wrong thing, we’re in big trouble.
