“But you don’t want to fuck him?”
I grimaced. It felt harsher when put in those terms. But if anyone would say it, it’d be Carmen. Brother or not.
“There’s no fire there,” I stated, dunking a chip in salsa for emphasis. “He’s… easy. Safe.”
“But he doesn’t tie you up in knots and fill your head with steamy thoughts?” she teased.
I took a long sip of my cola to avoid responding.
“Guess what the latest one says?” Carmen let it go with a little shrug, pulling out her phone and holding it against her chest so I couldn’t see.
“Another one?” I asked, my stomach doing that confusing, traitorous flip.
Carmen smirked. “Straight from the guy whodoestie you up in knots.”
Responding to Lincoln’s attempt at self-deprecation, scribbled all over Post-its and whiteboards in his workroom, had been an impulsive decision. I hadn’t expected it to turn into… this.
My “In Lincoln’s world, stalking is foreplay” had gotten a response in the form of a green Post-it in his messy handwriting: “In Lincoln’s world, harassmentwasan acceptable form ofromance.”So I’d fired back: “I’m not saying you’re predictable, but I saw your snappiness coming a mile away at Lalo’s. Thought harassmentwasoff the table.”
Lincoln’s reply had been scrawled crookedly across two sticky notes: “Only hurting you again is off the table. Asshole Lincoln was bad at getting your attention. I’m the new and improved version.”To that, I’d said: “You can break the news in Lincoln’s world. This is a much more effective way to hold my attention.”
Carmen groaned dramatically. “I’ve essentially become a glorified gopher. Passing freaking love notes. What are we, twelve?”
I grabbed her phone and looked at the picture of the newest one, Lincoln’s barely legible handwriting spelling out: “In Lincoln’s world, the greatest accomplishment is becoming mildly tolerable in Nina’s world.”
My stomach flipped hard enough to make me dizzy. My first impulse was to tell him he was way past mildly tolerable, but instead, I blushed and covered my face with my hands.
Carmen’s smug smile said it all. “This is not just casual banter. You two are flirting.”
“It’s stupid,” I muttered, but I still sent myself the picture of the note so I could look at it later.
Carmen noticed, of course, and her smile softened. “Stupid can still mean something, you know.”
I grabbed a napkin and wrote back in all caps:ALL I CAN DO IS ADMIT I DON’T HATE YOU.
Then I pretended to focus on my tacos, but my pulse was hammering hard enough to drown out the noise of the restaurant.
20
Lincoln
The door opened without a knock, the smell of rich coffee precedingCarmen’s entranceto the lounge. Her braid was swinging in time to her hips, and she wore a beaming look in her eyes that told me she was enjoying this way too much.
She discreetly held up a folded napkin, treating it as contraband. “Fresh delivery from your favorite marketing strategist. Delivered by me. Hopefully, I’ve earned favorite ‘something’ status.” Carmen punctuated the title with air quotes.
I didn’t even pretend to be too cool to care about what the pretty girl had written. My hands were already out. “Give it.”
She passed it over, grinning. I unfolded it and read, all caps, all attitude:ALL I CAN DO IS ADMIT I DON’T HATE YOU.
Something stupidly warm cracked open in my chest. I’d been hit by a car, had my ribs fractured, had stitches without anesthetic, and forgotten a good decade of my life…, but somehow, a napkin gutted me harder than all that.
Carmen perched on the edge of the table, watching me from her front-row seats to my unraveling. “So, lover boy, what’s the comeback?”
I grabbed a pen and leaned over the table, the napkin under my hand. My pulse was thudding in my ears, part adrenaline, part something softer I didn’t want Carmen privy to.
“Let’s see…,” I said, dragging the pen slowly, pretending I was thinking instead of stalling.
She craned her neck. “This better be good. She practically gift-wrapped you an opening.”
