Her words aren’t exactly quiet.
My face bursts into flames as Ben straightens and looks over at us. That small smile tugs on his lips again. “Carla!”
She cackles, hip-checking me as she puts another tray of glasses into the dishwasher. “Come on, Em. He clearly likes you. And you can’t take your eyes off him.”
She deftly grabs the lime cordial in my hands before I pour it into the wrong bottle. “Shit.”
“Shit,” Carla mimics, in a truly awful impression of me. Setting the cordial down, she grabs my shoulders and shakes me lightly. “You’ve been here for over a year, and I’ve never seen you with anyone, Em. It’s okay to have a little fun, you know.”
Her eyes drop to my scar, smile softening into something more understanding. “They’re not all bad.”
She doesn’t know. Nobody does. But I grab onto her words anyway as Ben heads back to us and leans against the bar. “All done on this side.”
“And we’re done here,” Carla says, side-eyeing me when I stay quiet. “Thanks for all of your help, Ben.”
He smiles at her again. And that smile – it does funny things to my insides. Flips them around, upside down. “Thanks for having me.”
She winks. “Come back anytime.”
“Emmy?” He says it softly as Carla turns away, busying herself with something that definitely doesn’t need doing. “You good?”
And god – if his smile did things to my insides, it’s nothing to the way he says my name.
“Yeah,” I force out awkwardly. I push my hair away from my damp face before I drag it forward again to cover my scar. “Thank you.”
“How are you getting home?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“She walks,” Carla supplies helpfully from several feet away. “On her own. In the dark.”
“Carla—,”
“Do you?” Ben is frowning now. “This isn’t a great area for walking on your own.”
I force a smile. “It’s fine, really.”
Itisfine. Statistically, you’re more likely to face the worst monsters in your own home than meet them on the street.
But Ben’s frown deepens. He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I’ll walk you.”
I stiffen as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He flicks through it, pulling out his ID and sliding it across to Carla. “That’s my full name. You got a phone? Take a photo of it.”
And then he smiles at me again. “Got a pad and paper?”
Carla waves one in front of his face, and he takes it, scribbling across the page in an untidy scrawl before he holds it out to her. “And my address. Can’t be too careful.”
“Well,” Carla breathes. “That’s… very thoughtful of you.”
Itisthoughtful. Something twists inside my chest.
“You could be making that up,” I mutter.
His eyebrows raise. “That’s true. But with my ID, I’m fairly easy to trace.”
I chew on my lip again.
“Please,” Ben says, searching my face. “I won’t walk you if you don’t want me to. But let me get you a cab, at least. It’s really late, Emmy. And it’s dark outside.”
