Martin shuts the light off, then goes and sits next to Ryan on the other end of the couch, and plays the movie. I can still feel Adam’s burning gaze on me, and, as usual, it makes me nervous. “Watch the movie,” I whisper, and he starts biting his inner cheek, still not looking away. Intolerant little s**t! But what is he thinking about? I don’t care! I look back at the TV, but I can’t keep track of what happens there because of what happens to my body and mind thanks to the small proximity between me and Satan. Not to mention that he didn’t take his eyes off me for a second, and God knows that nobody ever managed to come between me and Tom Hardy, but right now, Tom Hardy is useless. And this is worse than bad. “Now what?” Martin asks, pulling me out of whatever I was going through,

