“Yeah, your text scared me. I thought something was wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Punk,” he says lightly. “Didn’t you want to talk to me without an audience?”
“I always want to talk to you.” I miss him, dang it, and I don’t want to play this game anymore. We talked for half the drive here and I saw him on Sam’s phone, but the events of the day are replaying through my mind. Now I’m nervous about the gig, and what if Nathan thinks we’re still together?
I’ll have to talk to him again, and that’s one more thing on my emotional to-do list.
I’m tired of being the bigger person. I’m barely five feet two, so I shouldn’t have to be, right? Feelings are exhausting. My planfor the weekend was to be a book-reading vegetable, but that’s not going to happen.
My words tumble out. “I miss you. What’s up at work? Why’d your schedule change? Is it the same job or something new?”
He doesn’t respond right away, and I worry I finally crossed the line, being a little too much and a little too real.
“I miss you too.”
Okay, maybe he’s not worried about being real. Maybe it’s me.
“Lucy?”
“Yeah?” Did he just call meLucy?
“Do you really want to hear about work?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, but I have to confess one thing first.”
“What is it?” I try not to sound like I feel, which is like an evil jack-in-the-box is cranking in my gut and I’m waiting for the creepy clown to jump out.
“Relax. It’s nothing bad.” He chuckles. “I’m kind of into this book under your pillow.”
“You’re in my room?” I croak, somehow skipping right past the book, which isdefinitelya rock star romance, because in the land of make-believe, Idefinitelyhave a type.
He playfully lowers his voice to a growl. “I’m in your bed,little girl.”
He’s probably expecting a laugh, but the swoop in my stomach chokes it out.
“Oh,” I squeak.
“You like musicians with tattoos and long hair, huh?”
“Depends, I guess. I don’t think Finn has long hair, and I don’t remember any tats.”
“Finn?” he asks with amusement.
“My book boyfriend. But I have a Bret Michaels bobblehead on my desk and a mild obsession with classic rock, so I thinkmy preferences are obvious.” That was a good response. The delivery was a tad weak, but a solid 7.5 performance. Good job,me.
“Hmm, I guess the book reminded me of what you said when you were sitting on my lap.”
Oh, for the love ...
He snickers when I don’t respond, way too pleased with himself. “Anyway, I came to change the batteries in your smoke detectors, but I had your keys in my hand and forgot mine. I locked myself out, and Jace won’t be home until morning. You got me right where you always wanted me. Too bad you’re not here to enjoy it,” he teases. “Is that okay? I can sleep on the couch if this is weird.” His tone turns uncharacteristically nervous.
Weird indeed.
I try to remember if there’s anything embarrassing lying around, but the sheets were changed a few days ago, I brought my dirty clothes to wash here, and I emptied the trash. Other than some scattered shoes and the book he found, which isnotscandalous, I think it’s all clear.
“No. I mean, sure. You already made it past my shoes. You don’t need to sleep on the couch.”
