“I didn’t blow you off. In fact—” He digs into his back pocket and takes his phone out. “Can you just give me your number?”
I grab a wonton. “That depends. What happened?”
He sets the phone back down. “Nothing. I mean, just a work emergency. I would have texted you, but—”
“What emergency?”
He watches me as I chew, biting his lip.
“I thought mature relationships were based on communication.”
He leans closer, gaze dipping to my lips. “So you admit we’re in a relationship, huh?”
I fight a giggle. “That’s some big talk from someone who doesn’t even have my number.”
He pushes the phone closer. “My boss sent me four hours away on an assignment. I hated every second, and I thought about you the whole time.” He exhales. “Now,please, give me your number, Scarlett Moore.”
“Hmm.” When it looks like he can’t take it anymore, I grab the phone. “Fine. But don’t abuse it.”
“Of course not. Just some good ol’ sexting.” He pops half a spring roll into his mouth and brings a hand to his chest. “Cross my heart.”
Once I’ve tapped my number in, I give it back. I see his fingers moving on the screen, and after a moment, my phone lights up beside me.
I pick it up and read:
Rafael
What are you wearing under that stunning towel?
“Funny,” I playfully scold.
His shoulder bumps against mine. “About as funny as keeping me on my toes all the time.”
I shift on the stool, inching away from him. “Oh, I can stop immediately if you don’t like it.”
“No, I like it.” He pulls me closer by my arm, then takes a forkful of noodles and shoves it into his mouth. “I’m just not sure I like how muchyoulike it.”
I watch him chew. The white shirt hangs open just enough to show a hint of his collarbone and the line of his throat when he swallows. His hair is as messy as ever, like he’s been running a hand through it all night. It makes my stomach twist. “Iadoreit, actually.”
He licks his lips, glistening with the noodles’ oil. “There’s some serious imbalance here. But you’ll see, one day, really soon, you’ll like me about half as much as I like you. And that day…” He huffs before he serves food onto my plate. “That day will be exactly like today, except I’ll sleep better.”
“Losing sleep over me, are you, Gray?”
“Hmm.” He nods firmly. “Not nearly as good as dreaming about you, Freckles.”
With a sense of contented giddiness coursing through me, I dig into my food. Very inconvenient, isn’t it? How just having him around would make everything feel… less daunting. I’ve been so worried over the fact that he just vanished that I haven’t let myself feel sad. Now it’s hitting me all at once that I’ve truly missed him. That I barely know him, but having him in my life fills me with a new type of energy I refuse to renounce.
It’s dangerous, and the hairs on my arms rise at the realization, but I can’t help it, and maybe I don’t want to, either. Maybe I want to like him half as much as he likes me.
“Heard about last night?” he asks, pointing his chopsticks at the window.
I immediately tense. There’s no part of me that wants to discuss this murder stuff with Rafael. Celeste knows about the situation, andshe’ll go to the police, so there’s nothing else I can do for now. If I told him my theory and he didn’t believe me, that’d hurt more than I’d like to admit. “Yeah. Another murder.”
“Second in a week. Are you worried? ’Cause I can hang around.”
“I’m not. I mean, maybe a little.” I pick at the noodles on my plate. “They’re weird crimes, aren’t they?”
“Definitely.”
