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The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(120)

Author:Adam Silvera

I’m going back to Times Square, where my life should’ve ended, and I’m going to enjoy my first date with the boy who saved my life.

Maybe after, we can go back to my place for some alone time and safely wait for Scarlett to arrive as the hands on my clock keep moving forward.

We board the R train and the car is packed. I’m pressed against the door with Orion’s back leaning into me, my hands locked around his waist. He rests his head on my shoulder. I’m glad his eyes are closed because he can’t see the passengers stealing glances at us as if we’re doing something wrong. This city can be scary, but I’m not going to show fear. I won’t get a long life of little moments like this one with Orion, and I want to embrace the feeling of someone’s body against mine while I can.

“You think I’ll finally get to see one of those showtime dances?” I ask.

He looks at the subway line map. “Someone better dance between now and your place.”

“Is it too crowded, though?”

“You’d fucking think. People back up real fast once they hear that music kick in.”

The trip is enjoyable enough though it’s pretty obvious that I get my hopes up every time the connecting doors open, thinking dancers are about to announce themselves. So far it’s just been other passengers moving through the train and one kid selling candy out of a shoebox to pay for his basketball team jersey; I give him my remaining cash.

After a few stops, enough people have filed out that Orion and I are able to take a corner bench. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and lounges a leg across mine. I kiss him when he smiles at me, thinking about how everything is beginning for us, just like it should for two people who only met less than twenty-four hours ago. I don’t think we would’ve moved as quickly if I had all the time in the world, but that doesn’t mean I would’ve enjoyed the secret subway station and long walks on the bridge any less. I would’ve just wanted more, as I do now.

“I think I’m going to have to make an ass out of myself for you,” Orion says at the next stop.

“What do you mean?”

Orion squeezes my thigh. “I’m waiting for a sign, one sec.”

I look around the train, trying to see what he’s paying attention to. Then we exit the tunnel and pull into the next station, and I see the very literal sign: PRINCE STREET. I gasp and quickly snap a picture of it. I want Scarlett to come visit. I still don’t understand how Orion is going to make an ass out of himself. He gets up, and I do the same, thinking we’re getting off early, but Orion gently pushes me back into my seat. He removes the hoodie and drops it into my lap.

“You better appreciate this shit,” he says.

“Appreciate what?”

The train doors slide closed.

Orion takes a deep breath and shouts the magic word: “SHOWTIME!”

My jaw drops while everyone else on the train glances up, seeming more annoyed than excited. Most are curious enough that they keep their eyes on Orion. I’m stunned that Orion is even willing to do this. It takes a lot of heart; the soul kind of heart, not the organ.

“Showtime on the R train! This very special showtime is dedicated to our newest New Yorker!” Orion points at me, and I’m blushing. He’s clapping, working extra hard to get a scatter of applause from the other passengers. “Thank you, thank you!”

Orion pulls out his phone and starts playing some techno song. It occurs to me that I don’t know what kind of music he’s into, that these are the small ways that we’re still strangers. And yet, here he is, about to perform this big gesture for me. He places his phone on the floor as he slowly starts swinging around the pole in the center of the car, and with his first hop onto the pole, I can already tell this is not some hidden talent he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to reveal. This is going to be the most charming catastrophe, and I’m going to love every second of it. Orion slides down and crab-walks against the door and then clumsily rolls forward. I’m laughing so hard at how wonderfully stupid he looks while other passengers stare at Orion like he’s drunk. I can’t speak to what Orion would look like intoxicated, but this can’t be far off. I start taking pictures as Orion jumps up and swings on the ceiling’s handrail that’s for the tallest of the tall. Everyone remains thoroughly unimpressed, and I’m surprised and relieved no one is booing him.