“Did he ask you out?” I ask.
She smiles at me as she pulls her feet underneath herself before standing. “He said he was a friend of yours.”
I stand to match her. We’re inches apart, her warmth radiating and wrapping around me, making me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling.
“An old friend,” I reply.
She leans just slightly closer, a half-daring tilt of her head before she says, “Well, maybe you should call an old friend and ask him if he did.”
And with that, she slips back into her room, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving me standing in the hallway—alone and wondering why she tiptoed around the simple question like it was a trap.
Maybe it’s because it was.
She knew the question wasn’t simple, so she didn’t answer.
And I didn’t ask it to hear no.
I wanted her to say yes, because if she wasn’t a possibility, it would be a lot easier than wondering if she’s exactly the story I’ve been looking for.
The story I haven’t wanted to write for myself again.
Chapter 27
Evan
IcalledLeoandhe called me a crazy fool.
“You’ve got to ask her out,” he said.
“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea,” I replied.
“I know we don’t talk often, but man,” he said, his voice softening, “I can hear it in your voice. You’re already gone for her. I’m not even sure you realize it.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, pacing my hotel room like walking absolutely nowhere would somehow shake my nerves. “Yeah, but I don’t know if…”
“Rachel isn’t Delilah,” he said.
Delilah and I were one syllable, the kind of couple in which people don’t know one person without knowing the other.
Leo let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a sigh tangled together. “Listen, Evan. I know people have let you down. I get that. I do. Being alone is safe, but man…Your world is small if you don’t let someone…” he paused, “write it with you.”
I chuckled at him trying to insert writing humor. “So, you didn’t ask her out?”
“I told her I’d call her if you didn’t,” he admitted. “I mean, I’m not blind. That girl is gorgeous and funny.”
I smiled at that, because he’s right. Sheis.
And now she’s sitting across from me on a stage with Melanie between us.
I can feel her eyes on me. It’s intense, as if somehow her irises are powerful enough to gleam through my skin, peel back layers, and break my bones from within. And I wonder if she can put me back together.
“Evan,” Melanie says. “Your new book,Death Before Daybreak—is there anything that sets this mystery apart from the others?”
I bring myself to look at Melanie instead of Rachel, even though I’ve been counting the freckles on her face and I'm up to twenty-two.
“Well, I,” I stammer, trying to remember my notecard for this question, summoning it from a filing cabinet in my brain that I shouldn’t have shoved it in. “Um, I guess, I’m not sure. If I’m honest, I don't think I’m finished writing it yet.”
There’s a small gasp from the audience at my admission.
