I reach for it lazily, expecting some late-night chatter from one of my book group chats. But the second I see the screen, my stomach does a little flip. No name. Just a bare number I don’t recognize.
My heartbeat quickens, fingers hesitating before I swipe it open.
Made it home safely, mi cariño. Sleep well.
The words blaze across the screen, and heat climbs into my cheeks. He actually did it. Emilio found my number. Part of me thought he’d brush off my challenge, leave it hanging in the air like one of those almost-but-not-quite moments. But here it is. Proof.
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it, giddy and impossible to shake. My thumbs fly over the screen, faster than they probably should at this hour:
ME:
I’m glad to hear that. Good night, Emilio.
I hit send, the message delivering with a satisfyingwhoosh, then immediately save the number in my contacts. Setting thephone back on the nightstand, I sink deeper into the blankets, my smile lingering even as I close my eyes.
EMILIO:
Good morning. I hope you have a great day Raelynn
I wake up to that message, and it fuels me more than coffee ever could. It’s been years since a good morning text has left me grinning like a fool, cheeks hot, wishing that he was here in person instead of glowing on my phone screen. And yet, here I am—giddy as hell over a few simple words.
We don’t talk much over the weekend. Just a few texts here and there, but I’m okay with that. Saturday morning, after his firstgood morningpopped up, I asked how he managed to find my number. His answer? He had another officer, a buddy working graveyard that night, dig it up for him.Cheater.I told him that too, and he laughed, saying I never gave him any ground rules, that he was only using his “police skills.” I called him a smart ass after that, but I had to give him props. I wasn’t sure how I expected him to find my number, but I certainly wasn’t thinking he’d phone a friend.
“Are you seriously still staring at that message?” Tessa’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp enough that I nearly drop my phone.
I glance up to see her and Khloe making their way across the quad, fingers laced together, heading straight for where I’m perched on the low wall that borders the arboretum. The weather’s merciful today—low nineties. Clouds covered most ofthe pale blue sky, promising rain later. Despite the humidity combining with the heat, it was bearable enough to sit outside with my lunch. On rare occasions, I decide that I’d rather indulge in one of the many other options the university has to offer for food instead of going to the Cactus Grill. Today I chose sushi. Not entirely sure why I decided on it, when Panda Express or even pizza was available for god’s sake, but it’s hitting the spot.
“I can’t help it!” I giggle, plucking a Philly roll from the tray with my fingers (yes, my fingers, because my helpless ass still can’t figure out chopsticks) and popping it into my mouth.
“She’s in looovee,” Khloe singsongs, her voice dripping with her usual mischief, before going into a fit of giggles.
“I am not!” I protest, launching the chopsticks at her like the useless sticks they are. She swats them away midair and throws her head back into a full-bodied laugh when they smack into Tessa instead.
Tessa flinches and nearly spills the cup of water she snagged from one of the pop-up booths down the front of her shirt.
“Hey! Watch it!” she yelps, glaring at Khloe halfheartedly before tossing back what’s left of the cup in one go.
“She started it!” Khloe cackles, pointing square at me. I stuff another roll into my mouth and throw my hands up in mock surrender.
They both laugh as they drop their bags against the wall, the dull thud echoing off the stone. I tug the tray of sushi into my lap just as they plop down on either side of me, their shoulders pressing into mine, the weight of their presence both grounding and comforting.
“You’re not in love, huh?” Tessa teases, her smirk sharp as she leans just far enough to sneak a peek at my screen. Her eyes light up the second she spots Emilio’s name—complete with the stupid little heart I placed beside his contact.
Heat floods my cheeks, searing hot, as I snap the phone against my chest like it’s contraband I’ve been caught smuggling. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit I like him. And maybe our shared kisses stirred up some shit. But that’s it!”
Khloe’s grin spreads, wicked and knowing. “So… when are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow,” I blurt out way too fast. “At work.”
She snorts, head shaking in mock disappointment. “No, you dumb hoe. I mean outside of work.”
“Oh.” The word slips out softer, my gaze flicking back to the glowing screen in my hand.
The unanswered question hangs heavy between us—an invisible weight pressing down harder than either of them. We haven’t made plans. I haven’t asked. And I don’t want to look overeager. But still, the thought of him—of us—lingers, curling warm and tempting in the pit of my stomach.
I snag a sushi roll from the tray to distract myself, but Khloe doesn’t let up.
“Well?” she presses, elbowing me just as I lift it to my mouth, nearly knocking the roll clean out of my fingers.
