But his smile isn’t exactly friendly. It’s condescending. I think I would rather my vanilla latte be poisoned.
He heads for the door, but before he steps out of my apartment, he adds with a wink, “I’ll be in touch, but just in case, make sure you don’t leave town. I might have more questions.”
He pulls the door closed behind him.
Mal finally pipes up. “Did you two just forget that I was here?”
I groan. “I think I just got Sherlock’d”
Mal sips her peppermint tea. “That’s kind of hot.”
I roll my eyes and start replaying every single word I said in the last fifteen minutes. Did I give too much away? Do I even have anything to give away?
I don’t have anything to be defensive or guilty about.
Mal’s watching me like I’m a particularly juicy episode ofDateline.
“What?” I snap, immediately regretting how loud it comes out.
She holds up her hands. “Nothing, it’s just. Wow. That was enemies-to-lovers energy but with some low-key crime undertones. I’m into it.”
I grab the pillow that’s behind me and throw it at her. She catches it with a grin.
“I sense some romantic tension,” she adds.
“Heinterrogatedme. In my own home. With his smirky little face,” I say.
“And you liked it,” Mal teases.
“I did not,” I defend myself, but I feel my cheeks warm as I say the words.
Chapter 9
Evan
Idon’tlikeRachel.
It’s something I’ve had to keep repeating to myself since I showed up at her apartment. Her mismatched apartment in a somewhat sketchy old brick building that felt like a well-worn memory. The only thing missing was a dad who yelled and a mom who cried herself to sleep, leaving me to tuck Lily in and tell her bedtime stories.
I suppose that’s where my real love for stories began—they were an escape I could create for my sister. For me. Places that felt safe.
Rachel opened the door wearing that ridiculous old track sweat suit that unfortunately made my lips want to curve up in amusement at how adorable it was. It was tattered at the seams, revealing that it was something she wore often. Her hair was pulled up in a very messy bun, her face was free of makeup, and on her feet were mismatched socks. One with Rudolph and one with constellations.
I decided my best approach in getting to know Rachel was using the same approach I use to get to know the characters in my stories—their whys and whereabouts. Their intentions and quirks. Their motives and backgrounds.
Thirty minutes after I asked Lily to do some social media research for me, she’d brought me a color-coded, emoji-filled paper that read more like a fan-obsessed scrapbook than a crime sheet.
Things like…
Her favorite movies areThe Princess Bride, Runaway Bride,andThe Bride Wore Boots.
She either has an unhealthy obsession with brides or a need to watch things where there is a strong female lead that challenges societal norms about women. From meeting her, I’ve deduced it’s the second reason.
Her favorite color is pink, not soft pink or dark pink, but the kind that burns bright in a sunset like in Oklahoma, where she’s from. A little town called Magnolia Creek.
She graduated as the valedictorian and with high honors in a class size of thirty. She then attended college where she majored in Business Administration, and it makes me wonder how she ended up in New York City writing for a newspaper and writing fanfiction.
She also loves burgers, French fries, vanilla lattes, and has, what I consider, a very unhealthy addiction to Rice Krispies. Is that even really food? It’s basically popped air.
