“Traveling, mostly,” I say.
“Anywhere in particular? Or do you just… wander wherever the road takes you?”
I smile wider. “The latter.”
“Care to elaborate, or do you do something so terrible for a living that you don’t want to tell me?”
The delightful tease on her face almost has me wanting to tell her who I really am just to see the look on her face.
“It’s better you don’t know,” I tell her.
Because you’d run.
You already don’t believe in magic. I’d never see you again if you knew.
At least not yet.
Juniper deliberately chews on a fry for a few long seconds, staring at me as if she’s trying to figure me out. “Fine. That’s acceptable. For now. Later, you’re going to let me guess, and you have to tell me if I get it right.”
A quiet huff leaves me. “Okay.”
Juniper grins wide and pushes the basket in my direction so I can have the last fry. I take it, and as I’m chewing, she gathers up all of the trash and moves it to the end of the table.
“So… did you decide?” I ask.
“On what?”
“Where you want to go on our date.”
“Ah…” There’s a nervous smile on her lips as if she can’t contain her giddiness. It’s really fucking adorable, and I take the opportunity to scoot closer to her.
“You’re hesitating.” My fingers graze her elbow, making her flinch.
“I…” She shakes her head and finally looks at me, hand landing on my thigh when she turns toward me. “Sorry, I’m just still wrapping my head around the fact that you’re interested in me.”
“Juniper, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Since I walked into Hudson’s yesterday, I can’t bring myself to think of anything else,” I admit.
“That seems like a real issue,” she taunts.
“It really is,” I say, chuckling.
She smiles softly and considers me for a beat, lip drawing licentiously behind her teeth. “What’s the solution for that?”
“I don’t want a solution.” I reach out and push away the curl lying on her cheek, fingertips brushing against the freckles on her skin. “I want…”
My gaze flickers to her lips. That little pout, the dilation in her eyes…
“How long do we have before you have to go back?” I ask.
Her eyes do a little flutter, chest rising. “Sooner than I want to.”
The alarm on her phone goes off, and she sighs her head back, groaning.
“Dammit,” she curses under her breath. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.”
She reaches for her trash and stands. A reluctant exhale leaves me watching her move. I’m not ready for her to go back, and I don’t think she wants to go either.
The moment the trash is in the bin nearby, she turns toward me again. “I have to go inside,” she says, her eyes sad.
