"Wake up, Knight, everybody's wiggling," I sang to the closed closet door. Knight had slept for half the day, and I'd heard him snoring despite the door that separated us.

I would've kicked him awake, but the closet door was locked from the inside. I settled for singing, which, given my complete lack of any talent whatsoever, was potentially a worse fate. Usually, I wouldn't subject anyone to said fate, except that Knight was taking up my wardrobe, and I didn't want to spend the day in my Harry Potter nightgown.

I heard a groan from behind the door. "Why is someone torturing a cat?"

"Wake up, Knight, we really need you! Wake up, Knight, before the day's through!"

"This is child abuse," Knight grumbled as the door swung open. He was lying on an air mattress I'd blown up last night, with my collection of brightly coloured pillows laid around him like a cocoon. He was bleary-eyed and squinting at me; it was dark in the cupboard, and the light from my open balcony doors was bright and warm.

I grinned sunnily at him. "Heya, roomie."

"I miss the streets," said Knight mournfully, rubbing at his eyes. "No one forced me awake at ungodly hours there."

"It's literally midday."

"Yeah," said Knight. "Ungodly."

"Didn't birds shit on you as you slept?" I asked.

"Well, yeah," said Knight. "But I didn't have to deal with that until at least 2PM. So, it was better. And it's so hot in here."

"I'm sorry, I have been told I'm hot. Would you like me to leave?"

"No, that would only brighten up the day."

This was the last time I saved anyone from the streets. Apparently, they were ungrateful sods. I was going to leave Knight to his fence and his shivering. Then he grinned up at me, and all of those thoughts dissipated.

"So, roomie," he said. "What are we doing today?"

It was a Saturday afternoon, and most of my family had left the house to attend their usual sports and lunches and activities. Mum was holed up in her study working, but all of the others had deserted the house in the morning. I was hiding Knight's existence from everyone—in case news travelled back to my parents—but I didn't think getting lunch on the main street would be particularly suspicious; anyone who saw us would probably suspect I was just catching up with an old friend from my socialite circles.

I mean, it's not like runaway boy escaping an arranged marriage and hiding in a teenage girl's wardrobe was anyone's first reaction to seeing two teenagers hanging out.

Knight rugged up in an interesting assortment of my clothes. Usually, I would revel in dressing him in shades of pink with overtly feminist slogans like girl power and sparkle queen sparkle, but given we were aiming for a more lowkey profile, I managed to find some baggy tracksuit pants that were only a little too tight, and one of my oversized hoodies.

"My ass looks amazing in this thing," said Knight, examining himself in the mirror.

"You work your angles," I snorted.

Knight looked at me seriously. "I don't know how lowkey this is. I mean, are we risking a stampede of women aching for a look at these delectable ass cheeks."

"I cannot stress enough how much I do not think that will be a problem."

Fortunately, it didn't turn out to be a problem. As Knight and I made our way down the main street, no one gave us a second glance. Knight kept pulling at the back of his tracksuit pants, at which I smiled secretly. For all his posturing, he seemed to find the ass-hugging ensemble deeply uncomfortable.

The smoothie shop on the main street was famous for its vast assortment of juices, smoothies, coffees and teas, and I paid for a drink for both Knight and I, before finding us a spot at a picnic table at the little park opposite the small strip of shops.

Knight dragged gratefully on his straw. "Dude, you don't understand how good overpriced beverages taste," he said, closing his eyes in appreciation as he savoured the taste.

I sipped at my iced chocolate. "What did you do for food?" I asked, curiously.

Knight shrugged. "I had a little bit of cash that I took with me when I left, which was enough to buy some average meals. Some of the free fruit from inside the supermarkets. I tried to get a job, but I didn't have any of my information; my tax file number or my identification." He smiled wryly. "I would've found somewhere that was willing to have me eventually, but it will be a lot easier to look presentable now that I have a place to stay."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I just waved him off and said, "Oh, don't worry. I was way overdue for a roommate anyway. My whole family is a bunch of boring squares."

He gave me a look that said he didn't believe me, but returned to sipping at his straw anyway, with no further argument.

I looked over at the smoothie shop, where a group of kids were laughing and yelling. It was only the loud sound of their voices that drew my attention, but it was a familiar head of dark hair that held it.

"Oh, shit," I said to Knight. "Get down, get down. Under the table."

Knight was looking around. "What? Why?"

"Jace Hartley," I hissed.

"What, the one we hate?" said Knight, as he ducked beneath the picnic table, smoothie in hand. He had only just managed to get out of view when Hartley looked over and saw me, recognition lighting in his eyes.

Don't come over here, don't come over here. I mean, it was deeply awkward, given that the last time I'd seen Hartley, he'd been on top of me. And, you know, I hated everything about him. Including his ability to completely ignore my telepathic commands.

With a brief glance at the road to search for oncoming traffic, Hartley crossed the road and made his way over to me.

He was, officially, the worst. Calling him the devil was too kind; at least the devil was a productive member of society who did his service by punishing the guilty. Jace just sucked.

When he was close enough that I could see the gold of his eyes, he smiled at me. "Hey, Elle."

I gave him a mock-salute. "Hey, devil spawn."

Hartley snorted. "You're usually so much more creative."

I shrugged. "We can't all be perfect all of the time. I know you're still aiming for subpar some of the time, so you can hardly critique."

"I missed this," said Hartley, leaning against the table with graceful ease. He didn't seem fazed by my comments; not even a little bit. "I was starting to get a big head without you insulting me every thirty seconds. It's like I almost thought I was an okay person."

"Firstly, I wouldn't even consider you a person," I said lightly. "Secondly, if you got a big head, I would also make fun of that. And you know what? It does look a little more circular than usual. You should consider sticking your head in a door and slamming it shut again and again. But then, that could cause a whole different problem, and I don't know that you have the brain cells to spare."

He grinned at me. "It's sufficiently deflated now, I think."

I felt Knight pinch me in the leg under the table, but I ignored him, resisting the urge to kick him in the face. It's not like Knight had the brain cells to spare either.

"What are you even doing here?" I asked. Jace didn't live in this area. He wasn't far away, but definitely not close enough that he would ever visit this particular set of shops. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Have you been following me? Binoculars? Is this a recon mission?"

Jace laughed. "Everything is about our little feud to you, isn't it? You really are obsessed with me."

I was then forced to resist the urge to repeat you really are obsessed with me back in a mocking tone with a funny face, but that terrible comeback was practically admitting defeat. Instead, I just shrugged. "No, but I don't need to try to beat you. You would probably need to invest hours just to keep up. I mean, really, the only success you've ever had was peeing in my sandbox, and we were in kindergarten then."

Jace just bent closer to me, his face only inches away from mine. My breathing hitched, and I could see all of the colours in his eyes, the slope of his nose. I couldn't push him away, because that would be admitting defeat. Instead, I sat, still, challenging. I tilted my head slightly, as if to say, do your worst. He was as close as he'd been the last time; when he'd been leaning over me, our bodies flush.

Which, I realised, was exactly the point, when he said, "Last I checked? I was one up on you, Montez."

I forced my voice to remain light, airy, even as my pulse jumped. "And you and I both know it won't last, Hartley."

Hartley just grinned, as if my threat was the funniest thing in the world to him. He had never, not once, backed down from one of my challenges. Had never laughed at my extremes, or mocked my fury. Instead, he seemed to find it all so very amusing; perhaps because he was one of the most easy going people I'd ever met in my whole life. But he always managed to keep up with me; every step of the way.

Which is why I could never allow my guard to slip.

"I really did miss this, you know," said Hartley pensively.

"Missed being outgunned and outwitted?" I asked.

Hartley tapped his fingers against the bench, looking at me with calculating slowness, as if cataloguing the exact line of my jaw, the precise grip of my fingers on the cup. "Not quite."

But he didn't elaborate. I see. The new Jace Hartley technique; be so enigmatic that curiosity killed me. I mean, it was famous for killing the cat, so why should I be any different?

"So, why have you decided to darken my Saturday afternoon?" I asked him, not giving him the satisfaction of asking him to elaborate on his mysterious not quite.

"Maybe I just wanted to remind you that I was in front," he said. He nodded to my leg, and the crutches resting along the seat. "I told you that you couldn't keep up with me. But you just had to keep going, didn't you? With the spiders, I mean."

I sucked on the end of my straw, dragging languidly. His eyes followed the movement, and I smirked. "You never have to worry about me keeping up with you, Hartley," I said. "I could still beat you, broken or blindfolded or buried."

Jace tapped the end of my nose and smiled. "Then prove it," he said softly, before walking away with a spring in his step, whistling cheerfully.

When Jace had finally strolled out of sight, Knight clambered out from beneath the table with a wince. "Why did I have to hide?" he complained.

"I didn't want to subject you to that," I said. "It's called a favour. I was being a good roommate."

"Oh, you're right. He sounded like such a dick. I thought it was particularly rude when he told you to slam his head in a door." Knight looked pensively at the sky. "Oh, no, wait. That was you."

"You don't know him," I muttered bitterly

Knight raised his eyebrow with scepticism as he slurped at his drink with a suggestive grin. "So, that's the infamous Jace Hartley," Knight commented, but he didn't make it sound like a statement. There was overt implication in his tone.

"What?" I demanded.

Knight shrugged, but I could see the mirth dancing in his eyes. "Kind of sounds like you're into him."

"I am not," I said hotly. Why was everyone insisting that I was into Jace Hartley?

Knight smirked at me, but didn't say anything else.

"I am not," I repeated.

"Whatever you say," said Knight in a sing-song voice.

"I'm dropping you off at your street corner on the way home," I complained.

"Doesn't change the truth, though, does it?" said Knight. "It's okay, you're allowed to have the hots for your enemy. Just, if you're going to bang him, let me know so I can clear out of the closet first."

I hit him with one of my crutches.