Lillia and Reeve

Rules are made for breaking

A few days later, he texted her. Ice cream run?

I'm studying.

You can't study forever, Cho.

She stared at her phone, her thumbs poised over the keyboard. She didn't actually need to study anymore. And she had been planning to take a break...

Is this weird? Us hanging out?

Friends hang out, Cho.

She could almost picture him laughing and rolling his eyes.

Okay.

Cool. Meet you by the lawn in five.

Five minutes? She needed at least ten to do her hair. She ran to the mirror, then sighed. Who was she kidding? Friends didn't care about how they appeared to each other. Guiltily, she sent Drew a selfie.

"Miss you," she captioned it.

Reeve was wearing a forest green sweater, leaning against a lamppost as he waited for her. The sweater looked warm, and thick. Perfect for cuddling. Not that she'd ever consider it.

It matched his eyes. She shouldn't have noticed that either.

"Cho," he said, kicking off the pole. "You look good."

She was wearing a new dress she'd ripped the tags off minutes before. But she wouldn't tell him that. "Friends don't say things like that."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Friends tell the truth."

In the ice cream parlor, there was fake snow lining the walls, glittering in heaps and dotted with pine branches and ornaments. Thanksgiving wasn't even here yet and stores were already heralding Christmas. Commercialism sped everything up.

"I miss Jar Island snow," Reeve said, poking a fluff of fake snow. "It always had this fresh scent to it– like it was pure. You don't get that with city snow."

"Nostalgia's such a liar," Lillia laughed. "You never liked snow in the first place. You said you missed running outdoors."

Reeve shrugged. "Well, yeah, but if I have to have snow I prefer it the Jar Island way."

Lillia giggled. "Me too."

In the silence, Reeve smiled at her. She was about to smile back when she remembered. "Hey, no talking about the past."

"Jar Island still exists, you know. It's a lawfully-recognized topographic landmark."

"Nerd." She punched his arm. Offhandedly, she suggested, "Here, have some snow."

She gathered up a pile of it in her hands, then prepared to dump it into his. He rolled up his sleeves, then proffered his palms. "Give it."

But instead, she paused. With his sleeves pushed back, his bare arms revealed two matching scars, on each wrist. Scars that dug deep.

Lillia remembered the blood– gushing all over the grass. She remembered pressing as hard as she could onto his wounds, hoping, praying that he would survive. She remembered feeling his heartbeat flicker, yet persist– desperate for life.

She remembered the wail of the sirens, the smoke reeling from the Zane house, the look in his eyes as she whispered, "I'm sorry," over and over again.

Gently, Reeve lifted her chin with his hand. "That's over, Lil. That's over."

She nodded, only half-present. She could feel the guilt pooling under her skin, warm and heavy and thick.

He squeezed her knee, his touch pulling her back to reality. "You know, I've never regretted it."

She looked from the scars to his eyes. They flickered with some indefinable emotion. She couldn't understand it.

"If it meant protecting you, I'd do it all over again."

She stiffened. Around them, the world stilled.

"Reeve..." she whispered, throat hoarse. Agony gripped her heart.

He exhaled, not bitterly, just... knowingly. With a forced smile, he took the fake snow from her hands, then breathed it in. "Smells just like Jar Island."

"You liar," she said.

He pretended to lick the snow, then accidentally got a few of the flakes on his tongue.

"Ew!" Lillia squealed. "That's disgusting. You could get sick. Who knows what germs are on that?"

He laughed and wiped his mouth, dumping the snow back along the walls. After a gulp of water, he said, "Who cares? I've tasted worse."

"I can't believe I ever kissed you," Lillia said, giggling.

"Oh, I can," he suggested, waggling his brows. She flushed but couldn't stop laughing.

"I think we've broken just about every rule by now," she said after a bit, panting for breath.

"How's Drew doing?" Reeve asked with a wink.

"Now you've really done it."

He grinned. "Can't help myself."

"We're the worst friends."

"Or the best." He leaned back in his chair, mussing his hair. "Rules are made for breaking."

Hearts, she thought. Hearts are made for breaking.