No. Wasn’t thinking of anything specific when I typed that. That’s just my general principle.
King:
Someone is not telling me the truth.
Warmth unfurls in my chest. The words are playful and challenging yet don’t out rightly call me a liar. I smile.
My phone buzzes again.
King:
I think embarrassing memories make us human. They’re proof we tried something outside our comfort zone.
Ivy:
That’s philosophical.
King:
I can be philosophical when I want to. So what’s your definition of success?
I’m smiling when Sloane unlocks the front door with my spare key and walks in with food. She takes one look at my face and grins.
“You’re texting him again.”
“I’m working.”
“Your eyes look dreamy.” She sets down a pack of burger, chicken and chips on the side table, then starts eating hers. “How long have you two been at this?”
“Since the day he returned the phone. It’s not a big deal.”
“You’ve been texting a mystery man for days, and you don’t think that’s a big deal?” she asks between mouthfuls. “Have you called him? Facetimed him?”
“Not yet. We’ll do that when we’re both comfortable with it.”
“Well, I’ve already seen him. And girl, he’s handsome. But when was the last time you texted anyone this much, including me?”
The answer is never. But I’m not about to admit it.
“He’s just easy to talk to.”
“Mm-hmm. And what else?”
“And nothing. He returned my phone. We’re having conversations. That’s it.”
“Right. Conversations that make you smile like you just discovered chocolate has no calories.” Her voice turns serious. “Have you at least tried to find out more about him? What he does?”
My stomach twists. I haven’t asked any of those questions because part of me doesn’t want to know. King exists in this bubble where he’s just… King. No expectations or judgments.
“We’ll get to that later.”
“I hope he’s not wasting your time.”
I glance sharply at her. “He’s not…”
“Remember the type of men we want: handsome, rich, and stupid.”
My face contorts in disgust. “The type of menyouwant. Who wants that with you?”
