“Do you still read while you eat?”
Taking a seat at the kitchen island, I watch him warily. “What?”
“You always read during lunch at school. You’d sit there with your book propped open, completely zoned out.”
“Notalways,” I say, crossing my arms. “Just when the story was too good to put down. You know,urgentreading.”
“Right, of course. Do you still do it?”
“Sometimes.” It’s a straight-up lie; I do it every single day.
“Would it bother you if I watch TV while you read?”
I blink, trying to process what he’s saying. Is he suggesting we sit here eating dinner together but not actually interacting? Just existing side by side?
“Freckles?”
“N-no, that wouldn’t bother me,” I stammer.
“Cool.” He reaches for the remote, switches on the TV, and takes a dumpling from the takeout container. He bites into it casually, leaning back as if he’s done this a thousand times before. When he notices I’m still frozen on the spot, he tilts his head. “Where’s your book, Scarlett?”
“Oh, uh…” I scramble to my feet, grab the paperback from the counter, and slide back into my seat. Pulling my hair up in a ponytail, I hesitate. “Are you sure? I mean, I can talk.”
He chuckles and shifts his focus to the TV, the glint of one earring catching the light. “Just eat your dinner, Freckles.”
“I thought you didn’t do romance,” Rafael teases.
I look up from the book in my lap, stifling yet another yawn. Dinner might have something to do with how sleepy I feel, but this crappy book is to blame for at least three of my last yawns. The story is bland, the plot dragging like a damp rag. “I don’t.”
“So why are you reading that?” He sets his chopsticks down next to the array of dishes scattered across the table. The food was incredible—garlic fried rice, wontons, sweet-and-sour chicken, and a spicy noodle dish that lingered pleasantly on my tongue. Rafael definitely overordered; leftovers are piled high in colorful bowls.
“Work. I’m a podcaster at—”
“Booked It, I know,” he interrupts. Surprised, I watch his sharp cheekbones softened by the flickering shadows, his hypnotic eyes catching the warm glow from the lamp overhead. “Small town, Scarlett.”
“Right. Anyway, my boss assigned me toPassion & Pages, our romance podcast. Which is great, because I’m finally full-time, but not so great, because…” I hold up the book, my eyes drifting to its overly flowery cover.
“Well, you’re a bookworm, aren’t you? Maybe you’ll find answers to your love problems in books.”
Maybe. So far, all I’ve found is repetitive dialogue and cringey lines that make me want to toss the book aside. “By the way, you remember Quentin and I—”
“Dated? Yeah, I remember.”
“Okay.” I guess it doesn’t matter, right? The two of them weren’t particularly close when Rafael left. Plus, it’s beenyears, and Quentin’s dated other people since our breakup. Still, the last thing I want is the whole town’s attention on me. It took a long time for everyone to treat me seminormally after my parents died. I can only hope they won’t care about my lukewarm love scandal with two cousins.
“Why?” Rafael lowers his chin, trying to catch my gaze. “Did you decide you’ll give me a chance?”
“No,” I rush out, the word slipping from my lips too quickly. “I mean… no.”
“Well, I don’t think he’d have the right to complain, anyway, seeing as he dumped you after your parents’ funeral.”
My chin jerks back as I once again wonder how he knows all of this. “Idumpedhim, actually.”
“You did?” He seems genuinely surprised, then shrugs it off. “Either way.”
Okay. So I guessthat’snot a problem.
I clean up the kitchen island, stacking plates. “And how long are you staying in town?”
