Free Cinder X (Death Collectors, #2) by Jessica Sorensen Page B

ignoring each other for weeks and that she never had secret rendezvous with my brother every night. That she’s not possessed by the Anamotti, even though the X branded on her arm suggests otherwise.
     
    “I just wanted to say hi to my best friend, silly.” She meets me at the bottom of the stairs and then loops her arm through mine. I wince from the contact, her death smothering me like a heavy blanket. Standing on the ledge. Someone begs her to jump, so she does, falling to her death. She glances down at my wrists, noting the gloves I have on to cover up the lines on my skin from drinking Cameron’s life. “What’s with the arm warmers, you weirdo? You’re not even outside.”
     
    “I always wear stuff like this,” I say, which is the truth and normally she wouldn’t question it.
     
    She flicks the edge of the fabric with her finger. “Not when you’re just hanging at the house.” She dithers, releasing my arm with a suspicious look on her face. “Wait a minute… are you going out on a date or something?”
     
    “You know I have no one to go out on a date with,” I remind her; or whoever’s controlling her. “Unlike you, who seems to be going out with my brother at the moment.” It’s a challenge. I’m not sure they’re still meeting up, but I’d like to find out.
     
    She doesn’t miss a beat, managing to breezily dodge my question and focus the conversation back on me. “Maybe you have a date with that guy that moved in across the street. You know, the one that creeper Cameron lived in.”
     
    “His uncle?” I ask. “He’s really old.”
     
    She shrugs with a malicious twinkle in her eye. “Maybe you like old dudes now. I mean, I feel like I barely know you anymore.”
     
    “I’m the same as I’ve always been.” I maintain her gaze, wishing I had that book again so maybe I could figure out a way to bring my friend back. “I think you’re the one that’s changed.”
     
    “No, you’re different,” she replies. “In fact, you seem even crazier than when we first met.”
     
    I shake my head, knowing she’s trying to get a rise out of me. “Raven, why are you here? Other than to insult me. Did you just stop by to see Ian?”
     
    “Why would I want to see Ian?”
     
    “Um, because you’ve been letting him paint you.” I resist an eye roll at her feigned lack of remembering. “I know you’re his secret muse that sneaks into the house.”
     
    “Oh, I haven’t done that in a few weeks,” she says, discounting the truth. “I only came over here to see you.”
     
    My mouth sinks to a frown. “Why?”
     
    She grins. “Because we’re friends and I want to hang out.” Then she grabs my arm again and starts to drag me towards the front door. “I thought we could have some fun like we used to.”
     
    “You haven’t talked to me in weeks.” I plant my feet firmly on the floor, refusing to budge. “And now suddenly you want us to be friends again?”
     
    “So I was thinking we should go bowling tonight.” She tugs on my arm, ignoring me.
     
    “Bowling? Seriously? That’s why you came over here?” I refuse to move and walk into whatever trap is lying ahead of me.
     
    “Yeah, it’d be fun,” she says with a huge smile plastered on her face.
     
    “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” I ask. “You take art on Tuesdays, right?” With Professor Morgan, who I’m supposed to be calling in like an hour.
     
    “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” she retorts in a whiney sing-song. We stare each other down until she ultimately lets go of my arm and then stomps her foot against the floor. “Oh, come on, go bowling with me. Please? It’ll be fun.”
     
    “No way,” I say, retreating for the living room. “It would be weird and awkward like this whole conversation.”
     
    “What do you mean?” She tilts her head, confounded. “There’s nothing weird about this conversation. We’re just two best friends hanging out.”
     
    I stop backing