I exhale ready for the moment to pass when his boots scuff against the floor. He stops. Turns. And walks back to me.
My pulse jumps.
He runs a hand through his short sandy brown hair. “Opal…” his voice wavers, just a little before he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “Do you—” he pauses, steadying himself, “—want to go out sometime? For coffee?”
I just stare, stunned.
“You know, Kellan… I think that’d be fun.” A smile stretches across my face. “Yeah, lets do it… get coffee I mean.”
Relief washes across his face, followed by a grin. “Okay. How about Saturday morning? At the toasted bean. Eight a.m.?”
I nod, biting back my own grin. “Sure.”
“Good.” He lingers, like he can’t believe I said yes. Then he turns and heads toward the door, the bell chiming behind him.
Alex emerges from between the stacks; a wicked smile plastered across her face.
“What?” I demand, my cheeks heating.
“You know what,” she says, lifting her brows.
I laugh, covering my face with my hands. “God, Alex…” but then reality slams into me. “Shit—I have to open the store Saturday.”
Alex waves me off. “Please. I got you. Just come in when I’m scheduled. Ten.”
I lower my hands, grinning. “You’re the best.”
“I know.” She smirks and leans against the counter. “You know I wonder what the sex is like with him.”
I choke on my breath. “Alex!”
“What? I bet its mediocre. The big hot ones are always…vanilla.”
My draw drops. And my thoughts drift to the masked sex machine. He’s big, I’m not sure if he’s hot but… I don’t even care.Anythingis better than my ex. Grinding on the floor would be more pleasurable than the sex I had with him.
“Anyway,” Alex says, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “You ready to go?”
I nod, grabbing my bag. “Yup.”
“You know, you gotta talk to shadow daddy. Just one last time. Tell him why, don’t just ghost him.” Alex says, from the driver seat.
“Alex, he doesn’t tellmeanything.”
“I’m just saying, think about it.”
I’m sprawled across my bed, cats on my lap, binge watching another cheesy thriller, the glow of the TV flickering across my room. Hours have passed—I’ve lost track of time.
I push myself up and grab my water bottle, padding quietly to the kitchen. My eyes catch the tall mirror leaning against the wall, and for a split second, I freeze.
Is that?
A shadowed figure, broad and looming, right behind me in the reflection. My heart stops. I spin around. Empty room.
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears.
What is wrong with me?
I shake my head, trying to laugh off the chill running down my legs. Of course he’s not here. I’m just imagining him. I’m just so desperate for him my brain is fabricating his image.
