Beth woke up warm.
Which was weird. Because warmth usually meant blood, and blood usually meant she'd either done something… or was about to.
But then she registered the steady, solid weight beside her. The slow rise and fall of someone else's chest. Her arm around something that definitely wasn't her pillow.
She froze.
Eyes opened slowly.
And there he was.
Brandon.
Looking at her, just as confused. Still—unfortunately—shirtless. The gauze she'd wrapped the night before peeked out from under the thin blanket, stark against the bruises blossoming across his chest.
She blinked.
He blinked.
And then realized where she was—how she was. Her arm was resting on him like it belonged there, her leg tangled just enough to be noticeable, and her head… God, her head had been on his shoulder.
For how long?
And why did he smell good?
Beth inhaled sharply and shot upright like she'd been caught mid-murder.
She scrambled to the edge of the bed, dragging her dignity behind her like a bloodied corpse. "I—I wasn't gonna sleep on the floor in my own room," she blurted, arms crossed tight. "It's my bed."
Brandon, to his credit, didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. Just arched an eyebrow in that maddeningly calm way of his and said, "You sure? Because you made yourself real comfortable."
Beth turned her back to him, pretending to be deeply invested, washing a plastic cup that wasn't even dirty. "It's a small bed."
"You were practically using me as a weighted blanket."
She didn't respond.
"You kinda were."
"Shut up," she muttered, voice tight.
Her cheeks burned. But not with embarrassment—of course not. She definitely wasn't blushing. That was just… post-sleep flush. Heat from too many blankets. Shame maybe, for accidentally being vulnerable.
Definitely not because of him.
And she definitely hadn't checked him out before crawling into bed last night.
Nope. Not even a little.
The smug meow that came from her desk shattered the tense silence.
Ashes.
Sitting there like the little demon she was, tail flicking, golden eyes fixed on her like she knew everything. Which—considering the cat—was entirely possible.
Beth gave her the finger.
Ashes blinked.
Then yawned.
"Judgmental little furball," Beth mumbled, under her breath.
Behind her, Brandon laughed. Not loud. Not mocking. Just… amused. Soft, almost.
Beth hated the way that sound made her stomach twist.
She didn't like this. Whatever this was.
Whatever weird purgatory they were in between allies and enemies, between fake lovers and something-too-real.
She didn't do real.
Real got you killed.
And yet…
Last night, she'd stitched him up. Fed him. Let him sleep in her bed. And this morning, she'd woken up tangled in him instead of sticking a knife in his throat. She'd chosen not to kill him.
Even though she could have.
Should have.
She was losing her edge.
Losing herself.
Beth glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was leaning back against her headboard like he owned it, bruised and half-smirking. The light caught the scar on his jaw. The one she hadn't noticed until she'd been up close. Really close.
She looked away again.
Fast.
Dangerous. He was dangerous.
But not in the way everyone thought.
He was a mirror. A better one. A version of herself she didn't understand and hated for existing.
And yet…
She trusted him.
More than anyone.
That scared her more than any Ghostface mask ever could.
Beth crossed her arms tighter over her chest, narrowing her eyes at nothing in particular.
"This whole 'pretend couple' thing is getting way too convincing."
She said it like a joke, but her voice cracked just slightly on the last word.
Brandon didn't say anything back right away.
Just watched her.
She hated that too.
Not being able to read him. Not being able to stop thinking about him.
This was all his fault.
If he hadn't saved her. If he hadn't kept pushing. If he hadn't made her feel like she wasn't completely broken—
Beth shook the thought off like blood from a blade.
She wasn't falling for him.
She wasn't capable of that.
And even if she was… it wasn't real.
Just an act. Just survival. Just convenience.
Right?
Ashes meowed again, louder this time. Almost like she was mocking her.
Beth narrowed her eyes at the cat. "Don't you start."
Ashes just flicked her tail and stared like she knew exactly what was happening.
Beth flopped down onto the chair next to the bed and sighed into her hands.
God help her.
She might actually be in trouble.