Dean makes a low humming sound, then replies, “Which part?”

“I wouldn’t rather be alone.”

There is a long pause. A resounding silence.

I nibble on the inside of my cheek, wondering if he’s ever going to respond. There is nothing to fix my eyes to, so I just stare off into the dark abyss and wait.

Dean eventually sighs. “The fact that he fed us and gave us water is a good sign. It means he’s going to keep us around for a little while.”

I glance in his general direction, taken off guard by the change of subject. I’m okay with it, though. I’d rather not dive into feelings and grudges and relationship history. I just wanted him to know that. For whatever reason… I wanted him to know.

I nod my head, even though he can’t see me. “I guess. But he’s still going to kill us—I’m sure of it.”

“Maybe. But we have at least a few days to figure something out. We need a plan.”

A plan. What sort of plan can we possibly put together down here, bound and restrained?

My mind wanders, and I can’t help but think about the last “plan” we concocted. My mother put us both in charge of Mandy’s twenty-eighth surprise birthday party two years ago. She wanted it to be special.

That was my mother’s first mistake: thinking anything special could come out of me and Dean Asher working together.

“What is it?”

I poke my chin up at the sound of his voice breaking through my reveries. “What do you mean?”

I think I see him shrug. “You got quiet. That usually means you’re deep in thought or piecing together a creative insult to throw at me.”

I look right at him, and I’m pretty sure we’re unabashedly staring at each other—but since I can’t say for certain, I don’t break away. “I was thinking about the mess we made of Mandy’s party a couple of years ago and how any plan we come up with can’t possibly go well.”

His laugh startles me because it’s real and genuine. I’m not expecting it.

“You were definitely in charge of the invitations,” he informs me, as if this argument hasn’t been dredged up a million times before now.

“Lies. You’ll never admit it, will you? I specifically put you in charge of invitations because you had more involvement with her social life. Plus, I was already in charge of the catering, cake, and DJ.”

“I had alcohol duty. I was clearly overwhelmed with responsibility and under a ton of stress.”

My eyebrows raise with skepticism.

“I still don’t understand why your mom wouldn’t just let us create a Facebook event like the rest of the world,” Dean finishes.

I groan and roll my eyes back. Even though no one showed up to the party because someone forgot to send out invitations, it was still a memorable night of Chinese takeout and horror movies around the fireplace. A nostalgic smile sweeps across my face. “At least she got to celebrate this year before…” My voice trails off as I look away. The lighthearted atmosphere dissipates when the reality of our situation sinks back in. I pull my legs to my chest and press my cheek to my kneecaps. “I’m going to try and sleep. I have a feeling whatever is in store for me tomorrow will mentally exhaust me.”