The City of Crows by Bethany Lovejoy (novels in english .txt) 📗

his neck, tying and retying his red tie as he tried to look presentable. He’d told me before that he didn’t usually dress up for the Lobdels, but today he felt like it was necessary. However, it was evident to anyone watching that he wasn’t well versed in the ways of formal dress.

“No sweater today, huh?” I asked him, finally giving up and rounding the couch. I moved his hands out of the way. He blushed in embarrassment as I leaned forward, hands quickly looping and re-looping until the tie fell completed from my hands. It was far from my first time doing such a thing.

“I just figured I should look nice if I want something from her,” he said, his voice hesitant to admit it. He lifted the tie from underneath my hands, examining the perfect knot with wonder.

“Yeah, well, you do,” I admitted, pulling the tie down and patting it against his chest. “At the cost of looking like yourself.” Previously I had only seen him in various handknit garments, it felt strange seeing him without the bulk of a sweater or cardigan.

He sighed, shaking his head in response to me as he walked away, disappearing behind the room divider. I heard the drawers creak, knowing fully well that he was now looking for one.

“You know, you are the warmest person I know,” I said, allowing myself to fall back against his couch. Though I visited my apartment, I’d still not formally gone back. Yvie didn’t take it as an insult. Instead, Gigi had practically moved in since I’d been gone. It was just more convenient to stay with Leo, especially when nearly every day was spent together in search of answers. His couch-worn back might not have agreed, however. “It’s funny that you always wear sweaters,” I smiled.

“That’s how I stay the warmest person you know,” Leo joked, reappearing from behind the divider wearing a beige cardigan. Though the past few weeks had been tough, he’d grown happier recently, believing that Pat Lobdel would be the key to it all. I had my own opinions. “My grandmother on my mother’s side actually knits them,” Leo informed me. “Believe it or not, I used to be a little bigger, and she’s convinced the weight loss is from the cold breezes that break through the city. I think I’ve gotten a new one every month for the past few years, sometimes two.”

“They suit you,” I admitted, my eyes scanning him up and down. It was more like him, closer to Leo. Of course, the tie would go if he aimed to be authentic, but I could stand it for the moment. “You know, every time I see a sweater in a store after this, I’m going to think of you.”

“And every time I see a bouquet of dead flowers sitting uselessly on a table, I’m going to think of you,” he joked.

“Complaining about my bedroom again?” I snorted, allowing my back to fall against the cushions of the sofa, disappearing out of his view. “Don’t mock me and my tokens of loves long past.”

“Tokens of loves long past?” Leo asked, looming into my view. He leaned over the back of the sofa, eyes looking down at mine with a half-smile. “I’m sorry, I was never formally given that reason.”

It was way too easy to melt under the warmth of his gaze and way too embarrassing to admit my past behavior. “You’re not allowed to laugh,” I stated, “only my friends and close personal relations are allowed to laugh at me.” The twinkle that crossed his face told me that he was now even more determined to laugh. I groaned, turning away from him.

“I won’t laugh,” it sounded nothing like a promise.

I looked over my shoulder at him, unsurprised to see the way that he loomed closer to me than previously. He was draped over the couch, crossed arms resting against the back as he gazed down.

“I think we’re friends now, aren’t we, Lyra?” Leo asked.

“We’re two people who are in an unfortunate situation,” I informed him. “And are currently looking for a way out of it.”

“And,” Leo said with a hint of amusement, “you feel friendly towards me.” I was going to inform him otherwise, but then he added, “you said it yourself; you’ve gotten to the point where you don’t want me to die. If I were such a great disturbance in your life, you wouldn’t have said that. We’re friends.”

All of a sudden, it felt like I’d hit a brick wall. “We’re not friends-- I just--” What were we at this point? I’d slept in his bed. We’d almost died together, he was upset at the thought of me not being a part of his life, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine him being gone. Where had we ended up?

Leo looked curious to know too.

But I just couldn’t answer. It was easier to face the other questions that floated in the air rather than that. “I bought all those flowers because I had a crush on the florist,” I admitted, watching the way his face changed. There was no more pressure to define, just genuine interest. That was better, easier. “He was normal, a typical person, someone who I didn’t know much about. It was easy to paint him however I liked and envision this life in which I began to date him, indulging in the normal. Of course, I added flourishes but-- I wanted him because I knew so little about him that I could change who he was by the day.”

I didn’t even want to think about what Leo might think of me then. “What’s he like in your imaginary world?” God, he always had to ask the worst questions.

“What are you going to do when you’re still alive in a few months?” I countered.

A million words could have been communicated with the look on his face, but I was unable to grasp even a single one of them. “I… I suppose I’ll reach