Ryan flashes back the tiniest of smiles before he leans in and kisses me again. This time he doesn’t pull away. He presses my back so I move closer, forcing my arms to encircle his neck. His other hand slides up my neck and weaves its way into my hair. His tongue sweeps against my bottom lip, and my heart thrashes. I’m sure he can feel it, and I don’t care.

His arms tighten around me, drawing me into him. Like doing so will help us escape everything. And for several moments, it works. He isn’t the Swarm. People aren’t staking out my house. No one wants to kill me. No one else even exists except Ryan and me, kissing each other in the crammed corner of our detached garage.

When he pulls away again, I can’t help from biting my lip, suppressing my smile.

Ryan smiles back, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen him smile without restraint. His whole face bends in a way that fills my body with warmth, especially as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’ll figure this out. You’ve gotta trust me.”

I want to believe him. Just like I want to believe two broken and flawed people like us could like each other and maybe even—one day—date like normal teenagers. I don’t know what’s better: believing there’s a chance everything will work out or admitting that no matter how well prepared either of us is going into Saturday night, everything will most likely spin out of control.

Ryan’s lips brush against my ear as he kisses the side of my head. “Sooner or later they’ll announce the location.” His voice is rugged. “And when they do, we’ll make sure you’re nowhere near the next attack.”

He wraps his arms around me. “You’re not in this alone,” he says.

I lean into his shoulder, the strength of his arms.

I almost tell him my plan. How earlier this evening, I set up a live-streaming feed on the phone Emi gave me that’s automatically synced to whatever I record. How I linked the feed to a dozen social media sites, which have been joined by over seven thousand followers in the last few weeks, ensuring someone will see it before the mayor can take it down. I have my audience, which I fully intend to exploit. Like my dad did.

I open my mouth to say it, but I can’t. I can’t risk him trying to talk me out of it.

Instead we stand in the corner, saying nothing to each other, as I try to block the visions spinning through my head, the images of the Swarm closing in on us both.