Chapter 84
Raven
My blood ran cold. Ahab had risen even higher in the ranks than I'd realized.
"School project," I deadpanned. "I'm doing a report on military bureaucracy. Very boring stuff."
Nash's laugh was a low rumble that somehow managed to be both condescending and genuinely amused. "For someone so lethal, you're a terrible liar, Raven."
"Lethal? Me?" I widened my eyes in mock innocence. "I'm just a regular teenage girl with an interest in government careers."
"Is that why your heart is currently beating at 112 beats per minute?" Nash asked conversationally. "Or why your respiration has increased by 22% since I mentioned Harrison's title? Or perhaps why your skin temperature has elevated by 0.6 degrees Celsius in the past thirty seconds?"
My hand flew to my neck, feeling my pulse hammering beneath my fingertips. How the hell could he measure that just by looking at me?
"The only thing elevating my vitals," I snapped, "is your obnoxious personality and delusional imagination. We have no relationship whatsoever."
Nash navigated through a yellow light, the acceleration pressing me back into the seat. "Is that so?" His voice dropped to a dangerous octave. "I would argue that what exists between us transcends conventional labels like 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend.' Those terms seem rather... inadequate for our particular dynamic."
I turned to stare out the window, refusing to dignify his provocation with a response. The city lights blurred past like streaks of neon paint against the darkness.
By the time we pulled up to my house, I had managed to reconstruct my emotional walls. I reached for the door handle, eager to escape both the confines of the car and Nash's unsettling presence.
"This conversation isn't over," I warned him, voice pitched low.
Nash's smile was infuriatingly confident. "I'm counting on it."
I stormed up the walkway and pushed open the front door, immediately confronted by Sarah's worried expression at the kitchen table.
"Raven! Do you have any idea what time it is? A young lady shouldn't be out alone this late, especially in this neighborhood! With the recent gang activity and—"
David lowered his newspaper, adding his disapproval. "We've been sitting here imagining all sorts of terrible possibilities. Next time, call if you're going to be late."
Before I could formulate a response that wouldn't involve excessive profanity, Nash stepped in behind me. The transformation in my parents' faces was instantaneous and almost comical.
Sarah's frown dissolved into a welcoming smile. "Oh! You were with Nash? Well, that changes everything."
David's stern expression similarly transformed. "Should have mentioned you had company, kiddo. That's a completely different scenario."
I stared at them, incredulous. "Are you serious right now? One minute you're about to ground me, and the next it's totally fine because he's with me?"
Sarah had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Well, it's just that Nash is so..." she gestured vaguely toward him, apparently unable to articulate exactly what Nash was.
"Responsible," David supplied helpfully. "And since he moved in, have you noticed how much friendlier the neighbors have been? Mrs. Patterson actually brought over cookies yesterday instead of calling noise complaints."
"That's because they think we're hosting a celebrity," I muttered.
Sarah beamed at Nash. "You know, if you need to stay longer than originally planned, that would be absolutely fine with us."
Nash inclined his head graciously. "That's very kind, Mrs. Martinez. I appreciate your hospitality."
"Please, call me Sarah," she insisted, practically glowing. "And it's no trouble at all. You've been such a positive presence."
"Especially with Raven," David added, oblivious to my growing indignation. "Remember when she came home from that party? Three in the morning, stumbling, and there was Nash waiting up with fresh tea."
"I wasn't stumbling," I protested, even as an unwanted warmth spread through me at the memory of Nash's unexpected consideration that night.
"The point is," Sarah continued, "we feel better knowing you two look out for each other."
I threw up my hands in surrender. "Fine! Just adopt him already! Make him your actual son since you clearly love him so much. I'm going to bed."
As I stomped toward the stairs, I caught Nash's reflection in the hallway mirror. The smug bastard was smiling.
"Goodnight, Raven," he called after me, his voice a perfect blend of innocence and intimacy.
I slammed my bedroom door in response, leaning against it and trying to ignore the fact that my heart was still racing—and not entirely from anger.